Monday 28 January 2013

The Food Chain

Little Man asked me yesterday what Eco Friendly meant, and this necessitated a whole lecture from his obliging mother on the Eco System, the Environment and the Food Chain.  He was bored within twenty seconds of my starting, and his mind quite visibly jumped out of his head and ran amongst the bushes with the puppy, but he nodded knowledgeably as I rambled on. Realising that I had lost my audience, I then offered him a manky mini mars bar that I found in my pocket and he was alert again – offering me the wrapper because it was ‘Eco-friendly to do so.’  Job done.

Pre- Muttley (or 2012 PM as we like to allude to it – G with some fondness for the good ol’ days…) the cats had the run of the house, and were pretty much fed on demand as none of us could ever keep track on who had fed who, when.  The on tap food was so good that they began to invite in their friends, and often we would stagger down in the morning to make the coffee to find an uninvited guest kipping on the sofa or staring miserably at the empty food bowls.  It was worse really, to see their gratitude at this munificent time of feasting – as it inevitably involved the bringing of presents… Now those of you who have cats will know exactly what I mean…

It all started with a leaf.  A very excited kitten chased and caught a leaf and brought it indoors after parading it outside in front of his sister.  Of course we all cooed and praised him and took pictures of the leaf. Then one night we woke up to the wet whoomp thwack, whoomp thwack across our wooden bedroom floor of a startled frog trying to get away from the cats.  We have had dead pigeons, half dead pigeons, pigeons trying to make a break for it as one opens the door, and of course, hundreds of mice.  My dining room curtains have been pulled down three times by excited cats trying to get a mouse escapee who is hiding in the lining.  Lap Cat will sit for hours focusing her intent stare on a corner of the room –which we all instinctively avoid.  I have had mice leap into my lap, run over my feet and there is absolutely nothing worse than standing on a dead mouse in your slipper first thing in the morning. 

They even managed to drag a chicken carcass through the cat flap.  Unless they have mastered cookery, one assumes it was the remnants of someone’s Sunday Roast, but it wasn’t ours and wasn’t pleasant… Then there was the day when I was searching for a shoe under our bed, and amongst the usual detritus of sluts fluff and bits of lego, there was a animal in full rigor mortis – its face set in a rictus snarl.  It was huge.  All senses leaving my mind (it was, after all, dead) I screamed to G that they had brought in a rat.  In actual fact it was more amazing than that – it was actually a dead grey squirrel, bushy tail and all.  We still don’t know how it got there – alive it would have put up quite a fight and our cats were as glossy and unscarred as normal, and dead it would have been quite a two cat job trying to negotiate the solid beastie through the cat flap.

So there is a benefit to Muttley joining the crew.  The cats now live upstairs and come down first thing in the morning and last thing at night for food.  They punish us for bringing the dog into their lives by not bringing us presents any more, and Muttley loves nothing more than cleaning out the cat bowls once he is allowed up to start the day.  TomCat views him with dislike from behind the stair gate as the familiar clack clack of a metal cat bowl being rammed against a skirting board in the quest for the last lick begins.  And then it is Muttley’s turn for food, and after speed eating his biscuits he hovers hopefully in the kitchen for extra bonuses throughout the day. 

He is partial, as you know, to cheddar, absolutely loves peeled clementines, and goes potty for the leftover meat that Middle Son suddenly seems to have left on his plate after every dinner.  He eats the raw bits of broccoli that kamikaze off the chopping board on to the floor, the toast crusts that fail to land in the bin and puppy school is the best ever – because of the treats. So understandably the cats are getting miffed, but accept that if they won’t come downstairs, they don’t get the previous benefits.

But they have been cooking up a plan… and this came into fruition last night.  After an evening of pure cat love, where we were jumped on, batted playfully and purred at constantly, we woke up this morning to a dead mouse lovingly placed just outside our door.

Going down to feed them, they ate with little evil smirks on their faces.  Muttley came charging out and they hovered by the bannister of the stairs watching.  He finished off their breakfast, as I staggered over to fill his food bowl.  He backed off with a yelp, me with a shriek.

There in his food bowl was a dead mouse. 

I imagined the cats doing a high five and sniggering all the way back upstairs…




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