Mouse deposits - the way to stop financial meltdown?

Dear George,

High finance and the arrogance of merchant bankers, who call themselves the Masters of the Universe, usually don't interest me. We cats are Masters of the Universe. We all know that. We are the most successful species in the world, inhabiting not just every continent but also every small island. However - and it is a big however - I am beginning to worry about the cat food deposit in my human's kitchen. Is it safe? Or will it disappear in the financial meltdown.

Henry

Dear Henry,

Times are worrying. Very worrying. Here in the UK we cats have been directly affected. Cats Protection, the feline charity, has lost 11 million pounds that they deposited in a bank owned by the bankrupt Icelandic Bank. This will compromise their plans to set up more rescue centres for needy felines.

We all need to pull together. We cats can help our humans if we look for creative and useful solutions to the mess produced by this, the most incompetant of species. We can start by hunting our own food, to eke out those vital kitchen deposits. Every mouse, lizard, fly and rabbit caught and eaten by us will make the tinned or dry cat food go further.

Better still, deposit stuff into the food bank. Catch a mouse and store it for later. Currently I have deposited a live mouse under Celia's kitchen cooker. When she shines a torch there, she can see it moving about. The silly woman doesn't realise that this is food. By depositing it live I have ensured that it does not take up room in the fridge. It leaves no carbon footprint at all. This is green food storage.

I also put one in the utility room and, deciding on a 3 am snack last night, I re-caught it. It was fun. Actually I wasn't that hungry, so I just ate the head and deposited the body on the landing just outside the bedroom door. She nearly, but not quite, stepped on it in the morning. Did she congratulate me? Was she pleased at my efforts to help the household budget? No. She swore.

Nevertheless, I am a cat with a plan to put an end to financial meltdown. Help your humans during the stockmarketl crash. Catch a mice and deposit it in your own personal home food bank.

George

PS She's back. Miaowing about cats that barber each other. If you can help her with information, or if you want to send her a photo, contact her via her website, http://www.celiahaddon.com

Humans, not cats, are the true killing machines

Dear George

I spend a lot of time hunting in the nearby hedges, in the village were I live. I brought a mouse home yesterday through the cat flap and there were shrieks as it slipped out of my mouth in the kitchen. My humans don't seem to like the fact that I go hunting almost every day. Yet it's the activity which gives my whole life its joy and meaning.

Yorkshire Patch

Dear Patch,

We all have difficulties with our humans about this one, - that is if we live in a nice family home rather than a barn or stables. Humans like the idea that we keep down the mice numbers but they are also queasy about seeing us doing it. Humans are dreadful hypocrites on this issue.

A few thousand years ago, we noticed that humans needed cats. Indeed mice are the cause of the cat-human relationship. They had started growing grain and building granaries and we moved in. Soon we saw that humans would be better off if we domesticated them, so we moved further into their homes and the close cat-human relationship was off and away. 

However domesticated they are, humans like us don't seem to have lost the killing instinct. Their instinct is worse than ours. We kill mice and usually eat them. They kill each other. That is unimaginable in cat society.

Over the past 9000 years of domestication we have tried to teach them how to live in peace with each other. We keep the peace instinctively. True, there are cat fights over willing females occasionally but more often than not, our toms just line up peacefully for a go. Why fight when there is plenty to go round and our females seem to enjoy it.

We deal with conflict much better than humans do. We avoid it.OK so we do a bit of posturing and hissing but most of the time we just walk round each other. If you look at how cats live together in a home (in a group of unrelated animals which is totally unlike the normal closely related wild cat colony), we manage ourselves by avoiding each other. 

We have our separate beds and favourite places and, unless we are forced to, we eat at seperate times. If we do fight, there may be wounds but we don't kill. We time share rather than sharing - unless we are good friends or relatives in which case we eat together and sleep touching each other.

Humans at low levels of society seem to manage this but once there are thousands of them it all goes wrong. They band together in large packs and slaughter each other. They don't even fight fairly with their feet and hands. They invent weapons which allow themselves to kill each other from thousands of miles away. They even slaughter babies and females. So it is the greatest hypocrisy when they object to the odd dead, or not so dead, mouse.

Yes, we have our hunting instincts. Yes we kill mice and rabbits and lizards and insects. We are predators. But so are humans. They prey on their own kind. We don't kill other cats. They kill each other in the millions. 

Humans could learn from us if they weren't so arrogant.

Strange food enjoyed by cats.

   Dear George

On the food issue. I have my preferences. My humans give me sardines packed in water from time to time. They HATE the smell but I LOVE it. I just don't like the spine so I leave it. My human doesn't like fish but was going to try the cat fish because they were processed and packed in the US. She just couldn't get over the fact they are scavenger fish so I got them and here is a photo to prove it! I also like salmon. I also eat scrambled eggs and I especially like baby rabbits. What are your food preferences?

    Oscar King of Tidewater (http:simpleandsouthern.blogspot.com)

I love the photo, Oscar. Glad to see you have pushed the humans out of the bed altogether. Make them sleep on the bottom near your toes! That's what they do to us.

As for food, I like a change. Give me a different kind of cat food and I will eat it with relish just because it is new. Give me the same kind of cat food which I have been eating for days and I will eat it - but not so much. Those cunning people at Waltham foods and Iams know that, which is why they make cat food in different flavours. The more we eat, the better their business.

But back to favourites. Simpkin used to eat the end of asparagus tips. Fat Ada liked the batter on fish and chips better than the fish inside it. William refuses to eat human food at all but is balmy for the large sized Science diet kibble given on prescription for cats with bad teeth. He will also eat wet wholemeal bread put out for the birds -- something he would turn his nose up at if offered in his cat bowl. 

Skink, a rescue cat from Cyprus, used to lick the toothpaste out of the mouth of his owners - and they sent a photo to prove it. This has to be the oddest food preference ever. Probably not a good idea but then why should we cats listen to human opinions on this or any other matter?

Jellied eels is what used to help Castle and used to turn on Furry Fighter (http://thefurryfighter.blogspot.com - but be prepared for tears) . Her human has pointed out the wonderful news for cat that there is now REAL DRIED MICE! Just go to http://www.petextras.com/pofdmo21gr.html Rejoice, rejoice you cats. George of the crew (http://crewsviews.blogspot.com) has offered the mice in his basement for any needy cats. Who says that cats are not altruistic! Please add your comments, all you cats out there. 

 George

PS. I am horribly ignored by Celia back from college working obsessively on an essay about r and K selection. She would going to feature the lifestyle of feral cats but they are fed up with her cat obsession at college and say she will have to write about something else. So she is doing the rabbit - I approve though my own interests are more gastronomic than ecological when it comes to bunnies.

Why can't humans give us tinned mouse?

Dear George,

This food business is odd. Why do humans put stuff like soya and ash in our catfood. Havew you read those labels... enough to make a self respecting cat decide never to eat anything but fresh mouse again. Humans tin sardines - quite nice for cats especially the ones in tomato sauce. But why don't they just tin mice for us. And dry them. I'd love to eat dried mice. Like dipping into a box of chocolates for humans - they could vary the flavours - field mice, house mice, yellow-eared mice,  young black rat etc. And a bag of dried mice tails would be fun too.

Rocky

Dear Rocky,

Humans are sometimes difficult to understand.  The odd thing is that they  do feed mice, admittedly thawed out frozen ones, to their snakes. You can buy them in pet shops,labelled pinkies (very young indeed), or fuzzies (a bit older). They also sell turkey poults and chicks for these reptiles - dead not alive. It is against human law to sell live food to reptiles or indeed even to other humans. They even grind up mice to make snake sausages.

So why don't they feed this to us? My human, Celia, once used some fuzzies to get an anorexic cat eating again. They worked fine. Fat Mog sprang to life when offered one. No more refusing to eat. So why no tinned mice - with all the bones and hair and even the tail inside the tin. I'd like to nose around the tinned contents looking for the crunchy tail. It is one of my favourite pieces of mouse!

I am glad to see you other cats are keeping firm on this question of food (see comments below on the last blog), though I am slightly worried about Oscar Snuggles eating cat fish. Is this some form of cannibalism? Should he encourage his humans to stock it. After all it would only be a small step from cat fish to cat! Watch it, Oscar! And I am pleased to see that Libby and Smudge hold out for good food - particularly the Tesco sausages with onion gravy, Libby. Only don't eat too much of the onions - they can be toxic for us cats in big quantities. .

Instead of tinned mice,  we get tinned mush made out of the bits left over from human use - meat scraped off the bone, chicken wings ground up, that sort of thing. Then they add carbohydrate like corn and wheat and soya. Ever seen a cat in the wild stopped to browse in a what field? Of course not. They even add veg - and then colour the extruded kibble with bright colours like sunset yellow. Incidentally this has been phased out for human kittens in the Uk so refuse any pet food which contains it. Why should cats kittens be fed additives that are unsuitable for human kittens.

I agree with Wicky Wuddler about prescription foods. Keeling over on your side, as a protest, is awesome! Magnficent bit of human training, Wicky. Actually I rather like the prescription foods I have been offered, but I enjoy seeing my human worry when I refuse to eat them. It's just fun to wind them up. The only ones I eat willingly are the huge crunchy ones I get fed as treats to keep my teeth clean. Celia says they are better than fatty old cat treats and I like them just as much.

Incidentally did any of you cats see Tom Cox's cats (http://littlecatdiaries.blogspot.com) eating in a line. It was in the Times. I bet he kept them hungry so that they would do it for the photographer! It's publicity for his book 'Under the Paw; Confessions of a Cat Man." Shame on you, Tom's cats! Stop being so nice to him. Remember, it is every cat's duty to keep its human under control.

George

PS. Celia is back at college - the oldest animal behaviour student on the block. So no blogging  for a bit. She's left me in charge but without the secretarial help.

George's rap on catnip

I’m catnipped up and feeling funny,
Goin' to get me a bunny,
Mice is great for me too
Yes, cat William, for you.
We both high and hip
We both high on catnip
Goin’ to flip
With catnip.

Nibble on a mouse and eat its head
Don’t know if he’s live or dead
I’m catnipped up and riding high
High at the sky, I tell no lie.
Man, she worries and she quibbles.
Me I hurries and I nibbles.
We both high and hip
We both high on catnip
Goin’ to flip
With catnip.

William and me is high as cats
We both goin' to get us some rats
Catnipped up and feeling strange
Jumpin' everythin' in range.
We both high and hip
We both high on catnip
Goin’ to flip
With catnip.

Where's the best place to leave this dead mouse?

I have been inspired by Smudge's last comment to tackle the question of where is the best place to leave a dead mouse - in order to delight or horrify our humans. I suggest the following possibilities:
1. At the side of the bed, where the human foot will land on it as a human gets up in the morning.
2. Floating in the lavatory.
3. In a bedroom slipper, concealed so that it will only be discovered when toe meets mouse.
4. Under the human's pillow near the nightdress.
5. On the pillow at night just near the human nose.
6. In the shower
7. In a handbag.
8. In an envelope file on the desk.
9. Inside a filing cabinet.
10. In the toaster. Only one mouse at a time. If you have a human who only toasts one piece of bread this has the possibility of toasted mouse first thing in the morning.
Any more you can think of? The aim is maximum surprise and human emotional reaction. All contributions in comments please.

Did God who made the robin, make me?

Did God who made the robin (which I caught yesterday) make me? Robins die easy, but mice are much more fun because they die slowly. When they sit frozen with fear and completely immobile, I just stare at them. If their immobility goes on too long, I poke them to make them move.Then when they make a run for it, I leap on them all over again - eyeing, stalking and pouncing over and over again. I do this in play for half an hour or so until they die in earnest. Even when they are dead, I often play with them. I throw the corpse up in the air to get it moving. Did God make me in order that I should torture mice?
I can't help it. My instinct is to pounce on small furry objects which are moving or to leap up at feathered ones that are flying past. If God made me, he made me to be a smaller version of the fearful symmetry of the tiger, a small but deadly killing machine. I have to hunt. It is not just what I do.The sequence of hunting, - eye, stalk, pounce, grab and eat - is intelligently designed into my flesh and blood. This pattern is what I am. I know what is play for me is torture for the mouse. Am I therefore evil?
But I am not just a hunter. I think about spiritual topics. Is God a cat? Am I created in the image of God. Even if God isn't a cat, and is more like a human, what have humans to be proud of? They have slaughtered more of their own species than I have had mice or robins. They kill each other. I don't kill cats. The very idea is shocking. If humans are made in the image of God, then it must be a pretty beastly God (except beasts do not usually kill each other). A cat God might be preferable.
This all leads up to a bit of a boast. I am in a Times blog, written by Ruth Gledhill, the religious correpondent. http://timescolumns.typepad.com/gledhill/2007/05/faith_in_all_th.html#more

A word about those catnip "mice"

The catnip through the post came packed tightly in little sacks with a convenient string attached for dragging them around, pouncing on when high as a kite, or just pawing when out of it. Nice little sacks. Nicely made by a well wisher, who has seen my handsome photograph on this blog and wishes to pay her own small tribute to me. I have enjoyed, and am still greatly enjoying, them. Doing catnip is great.
But... Celia thinks they are mice. She calls them catnip "mice." She's got the same delusion about two or three little furry toys which I sometimes play with when there's nothing to kill outside. Of course, they are not mice. They don't smell like mice. They smell, of course, of old rabbit fur - probably oriental or maybe Chinese rabbit and been dead a long time. I reckon the fur has been stuck on something a bit like cardboard. I mean they are fun, but they are not mice. Neither are the little catnip sacks.
When I came to, after doing some more catnip earlier today, I pondered on this. I mean if it doesn't smell like a mouse and it doesn't move like a mouse, it's not a mouse. I think her delusion arises from the fact that humans have practically no sense of smell. They can't tell the difference between friend and foe by smell. They can't smell intruders or next doors' friends. They can hardly smell anything at all. They are smell-blind, so to speak.
Nor can they hear. They are deaf to a mouse's footfall. If a thing doesn't sound like a mouse, it's not a mouse. But humans are almost insensible. The only sense they have is vision. Even their sight comes in glaring colours and is not movement sensitive, so they can't see much at twilight hunting hour. Lacking smell, hearing, sensitivity to movement, Celia looks at a little sack of catnip and she "sees" a mouse, just because of the shape.
How weird is that? Poor woman.

TV - the case for smelly television

I used to watch quite a lot of TV when I was a kitten. The flickering screen sort of interested me and I quite liked moments when a shape seemed to pass from one side to another. Of course, the picture wasn't sharp -- too far away for my eyes to focus most of the time, except when I got on top and looked down at it. Colours - well we cats see some colours but colour is not our thing. What interested me on TV was the movement. We cats are very focussed on tiny movements - for obvious reasons.
Some cats take to TV. Naturally they prefer programmes about mice and birds but those that do go in for TV viewing are often interested by wildlife in general. Mac, a black cat like me only less handsome, took up TV late in life when he retired from a life of crime and passion on the streets. He got fixated by big cat programmes. When a lion or tiger growled, Mac would chatter his teeth with excitement. I think it may have reminded him of when he, himself, was a big beast on the block. He felt akin to these big cats. He had a lofty indifference to any pet cats on the screen. It was only the big wild ones that he identified with.
As for me, now I am older, I have given up watching TV. I see what a waste of time it is. Very little to see - a lot of faces of homo sapiens (boring, very boring), lot of human vocalisations (even more boring), a poor imitation of caterwauling at times, and only very occasionally, during the nature programmes, a mouse or a bird. Nothing to pounce on at all. I investigated the box, itself, when I was a kitten just in case there was a bird inside it. But there wasn't.
Worse still, there's no smell. Nothing at all, except an odour of plastic slightly heating up. Now if there was a smell to the bird picture, I think I would be entranced. Smelly TV would really turn me and other cats on. But as it is there's no real life at all in a TV.
However, there is something useful about television. If you want to get your human's attention start pawing at it, sitting on the top and looking down, or just tastefully drape your tail over the screen. It never fails. Even the most stupid human reacts mostly with laughter and very occasionally irritated comments. It proves something. Real life (if it's black and beautiful like me) scores over TV every time.

I am in demand for my incredible skill in mousing

Steffi-Next-Door, well next door at weekends, wants to hire me as a mouser. She emailed from London to say she had a big favour to ask. "We have a mouse in the house here in London which is driving me crazy. I put down traps and poison and it has evaded or avoided both. It seems to be hanging out in our bedroom which is freaking me out. I wondered if you were coming to london this week and if so, if we could borrow George for the day and bring him back to you later. I'm sure he'd be able to catch the little beggar. I would of course remove the poison and traps etc. I can't sleep at night because this mouse keeps making noise in my room."
Someone appreciates me - unlike Celia.
Someone, not like Celia, is impressed by my predatory skills.
Someone, again not Celia, is anxious for my help in killing.
It feels really good to be recognised. I celebrated by bagging a blue tit. The bloody woman took it off me.

She's done it again! She's stolen my mouse!

Humans! They are the lowest of the low species! She's stolen my mouse! A particularly lively fat one at that! In the evening, I am imprisoned in the house with the cat flap shut. It may be warm but it gets very boring, especially at about 3am. Obviously, I do my best to liven things up by jumping on her bed, worming my way into it to play the you-are-a-mouse game with her, or just pounce on her head as she lies on the pillow. But I am afraid she quite often just sleeps through all this.
Out of the kindness of my heart, I thought I would make my own arrangements for a 3am game. Instead of treating her as a mouse, I brought in a proper one. It was big, surprisingly fat for this time of year, and had a most exciting squeak. I stashed it under the fridge, as I often do, but it insisted in running round the kitchen and wedging itself in the corner of the open kitchen door. It squeaked so loudly that even a deaf human could hear it. (They can't hear much. Their sense of hearing is inferior to ours.)
That woman - I can hardly bring myself to name her - heard it and fetched a wellie. She then wedged the wellie near the door with the idea that the mouse could run into it. Well, for about five minutes it didn't get the point, and Celia and I had good fun. I tried to catch it and Celia tried to stop me. Very enjoyable and my blood was up, so if I scratched her I couldn't be blamed for it. The excitement of the moment had me in thrall and besides it was aimed at the mouse. Then the idiotic little thing finally got the point and ran into the wellie. Celia picked it up, getting in the way of me the predator and the mouse my lawful prey, and chucked the wellie into the hedge.
No mouse. No more fun. No 3am snack. That woman is a kill joy. For a moment or two I could have killed her - only she's so much bigger than I am.

The human mouse

They've got no idea, humans! Celia's "mouse" (so called) is oval, white with a transparent coat, marked with the sign of an bitten apple. It smells of nothing except plastic and only moves when she puts her hand on it. Anything less like a mouse would be difficult to find. The only thing it has in common with a real mouse is the white tail that comes out of its end and fixes into the keyboard. Once again this is hard and cold where a proper mouse tail would be warm and soft and waving freely. The only thing that can account for this massive misnomer is wishful human thinking, the desire to be more like a superior species, us cats. The poor dears aspire to be feline. It's really rather charming. And I suppose one way is to give human things feline names. I've written before (9.12.06) about musmalfunction, the way humans can't do real mice. They can't smell them. They can't see or hear of them most of the time. If they do, they can't pounce properly. And, as I've remarked, they can't grab them with their mouths. Nor do they eat them. Not a nibble. Even when a mouse is put on their keyboard.
Instead they play for hours with this plastic "mouse". Pathetic but sweet.

Teaching a human to eat mice

I have a sense of responsibility towards my humans. I am trying to train them out of human dsfunction into feline competance, so I brought in a mouse for them. It was pretty good hearted of me, as it wasn't one of the small long nosed voles that I usually spare for them. Frankly these don't taste good to cat so I tend to give them to my humans, who are much less fussy about what they put in their mouths. It's never worked. Even humans dislike voles. I stay optimistic though.
Today it was a real mouse - large and deliciously fat. My mouth was watering, even as I clambered in through the cat flap and set off to find Celia at her wordprocessor. There was a moment of temptation on the stairs. Would I succumb to a little nibble? Sternly I told myself that I must stay with the original generous impulse. I sprang on to her desk and placed the mouse neatly between her and the keyboard, not far from the hard device that humans call a mouse.
At first her reaction seemed appropriate. She too sprang up from her chair with what seemed like a delighted shriek. Then, as a series of completely inappropriate vocalisations followed, I realised that an emotional sympton of musmalfunction ( a disordered reation to mice) had taken over. She threw herself out of the office then came back with yards of lavatory paper - just too late. Realising what had happened, I had smartly picked up the mouse and was legging it down the stairs to the cat flap and out on the lawn for my delayed meal.
My generosity ignored and insulted. Not a word of thanks.