Killer Cat
Posted under Witterings
I’m beginning to hate one of our cats, Parker. He’s always been a delight, friendly, full of character, a bit quirky, so tolerant of the boys and very handsome to look at. He has amazingly long whiskers and, as a result, MrSpud calls him our ‘wizarding cat’. Truly they are a MAGNIFICENT set of whiskers! He’s quite stupid and can’t balance too well, thus ensuring many comedy moments as we watch him tumble off the fence/sofa/chair yet again. And likes to drink water from our glasses, the birdbath, the paddling pool etc rather than his water bowl. So far, so lovely.
Parker - with killing on his mind
We moved to the country from London at the start of the year. Until then he’d been an utter wuss, never leaving the confines of our small city garden. To be honest, I’d assumed he’d hardly leave the garden once we moved here. Wrong. He’s like a cat possessed! He’s out nearly all day, in the garden, down the fields, up the fields, across the courtyard. He has become an adventuring cat. Alas he’s become a killing cat too.
Parker - thinking about sleep
Mice, voles, birds….alive, dead, partly dead, flapping…regardless he brings them in. MrSpud has become adept at creating ‘runs’ for the live ones to make a dash for the great outdoors. Slightly stunned ones are captured in Tupperware boxes and dispatched outside – the ones which aren’t going to make it are ‘done for’ with a cricket bat. Sob. Flappy birds are horrendous. Once he brought in a newborn baby vole, so new it was translucent. Very, very upsetting.
Parker - without killing on his mind for a change
This week Parker stepped up his campaign of horror by sneaking in with a vole without me knowing. The first thing I knew was the sound of a tambourine from the play room. Most odd as I was alone in the house. He’d dropped it in the toy box, poor thing was running around and tapping out a jig. So outside with the toybox, and out with the Dettol yet again to clean the toys.
Parker - thinking about the lack of dusting that goes on around here
How can I stop this? I know it’s his instinct but it’s awful , and it’s almost daily. Worst time is the morning so I’ve taken to blocking the cat flap. He had a collar with a bell for a while, but it didn’t make any difference. Every time I hear the cat flap ‘bang’ my heart sinks, as I’m convinced Dr Death has popped back in with his latest offering.
He’s so stupid that when he gets a live one he has NO idea what to do with it – he doesn’t kill it, he just looks at it. What can I do? Boot camp for cat killers? I’ve become so cross with him that I encourage the neighbour’s dogs in to the garden to give him a fright, just to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Rare shot of our other cat who is desperately shy. And non killing…we might not be able to get near her, but at least she doesn’t kill stuff. Also my first, ever shot taken on manual!
Little Miss Shy - Phoebe
So, any thoughts on cat killers? Help me please!
i think it’s cool when cats get in touch with their little cat instincts. and frankly, there should be less mice and voles around, so they are providing a service of sorts. i just wish the cat would leave them outside. our cat repeatedly has let only mildly stunned mice loose in the house of late. but she seems to have a need to present them to us. i wonder what’s up with that? just let parker be his little cat self.
Sadly this is what country cats do. It can be very upsetting, I know. Our old cat Paddy – sweetest thing in the world, soppiest cat in the universe – was mad for baby birds. He’d raid nests. Utter carnage.
Parker’s blood lust will probably abate in a few weeks or so. It’s this time of year. Baby critter paradise.
Think of it this way: he’s probably the happiest he has ever been in his whole entire life. :)
sorry no idea, but i have a funny story about cats. long story short my father remarried a women with a cat- who makes your cat seem like mother teresa. in the 20 years it lived i never pet it and it would attack me every time i´d get too close. one day i was rummaging through my parents closet and found a pretty gold box with a ribbon. my immediate reaction was”chocolates!” uh… no… it was the cat´s ashes… i swear they loved that cat more than me…
the offerings mean he loves you in cat language. i have no ideal why they have to torture them so.
Thank him, make a fuss of him, and get rid of the gift when he’s not looking. Otherwise he’ll think it’s not good enough and bring you more/bigger presents. Not a problem with my boys. One’s too rickety and geriatric, the other too fat and idle, but I’ve had killers in the past and it’s not nice. (There’s a story involving a rat, my brother’s dressing gown and the kitchen carpet. I might tell you sometime.)
[...] am really going off Parker. I’ve moaned before about his killing tendencies but he’s really stepped up his campaign of terror in recent days. We found a trail of bird [...]