No posts from me for a while. There hasn't been much to say about the cats lately, and I've been a bit busy to do a couple of posts that are about wider issues around cat ownership.
All there is to say about the cats is a) they are being very naughty and b) they keep bringing things in.
On Thursday Natalie brought a mouse in for me. It wasn't dead, ran across the room towards me, inducing me to produce a blood-curdling screamm that made Rob think I was being attacked. Oops. But it was a mouse! IN THE HOUSE! She went out with it, but then came back in to play with it in their room, growling extensively at Nathan when he tried to get a paw in.
Then she ate it. Cats are such delights.
This morning, Natalie was on our bed, having a very companionable lie-in when I heard the cat flap going and the familiar "thud thud" of a cat tossing some poor unfortunate creature around. It was Nathan with a bird, and I had foolishly left my bag down there, creating a bird-my handbag interaction. Not impressed.
Natalie and I went down to shoo him out, which made him growl at her and they had a bit of a standoff, which I broke. It was scary though, as I didn't know if he'd go for me, bird and all.
Oh, and as they're on a diet, they've turned into velociraptors. Last night I ate my dinner and they actually did a pincer movement on me (after opening the door!) one going in front of me and my plate, and the other behind. I ended up barricading the door with my handweights to keep them out! Who knows what they'll do next.
Pictures soon...
Showing posts with label hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunting. Show all posts
Saturday, 20 August 2011
Monday, 4 July 2011
Lepidoptera
The cats don't usually like the bathroom. It probably smells a bit weird and has a strange shiny floor.
But it's summer now, which means that when the light is on in the bathroom, moths cluster at the window, trying to get to the light which they think is the moon.
Cats like catching moths, and Natalie, who is on a diet, likes eating moths.
She'll go to some lengths to get at one.
First, getting into the sink to ease access to the window:
Then exploring what exactly is going on behind that glass:
Are there any here?
Or here?
Here they are! And sadly inaccessible. She gave it her all though:
And what of Nathan? Well, our good little boy just stood sentry:
He also brought me a frog tonight. I wish I could be pleased about that.
But it's summer now, which means that when the light is on in the bathroom, moths cluster at the window, trying to get to the light which they think is the moon.
Cats like catching moths, and Natalie, who is on a diet, likes eating moths.
She'll go to some lengths to get at one.
First, getting into the sink to ease access to the window:
Then exploring what exactly is going on behind that glass:
Are there any here?
Or here?
Here they are! And sadly inaccessible. She gave it her all though:
And what of Nathan? Well, our good little boy just stood sentry:
He also brought me a frog tonight. I wish I could be pleased about that.
Sunday, 3 July 2011
Ranidaphobia II
Today it is R's birthday. Happy birthday R!
As we are quite a casual sort of household, R was looking up things on the internet in our bedroom this morning, whilst I watched a Lebanese film downstairs in the living room. Casual, like I say.
I heard a cat come in and do the "mew mew, I'm here" thing that they do. I called out hello and waited for the cat to come in. It didn't, but carried on mewing so I went into the hall to investigate.
What I found HORRIFIED me, and I was extremely relieved she had not come into the living room.
Natalie had come in with a frog, and was proudly proclaiming this wonderful gift she'd brought in.
I think you know the drill:
"Rob, I need you!"
"What is it?"
"She's brought in a frog!"
Weirdly, she wasn't playing with it, just lying sort of curled around it. Rob went off to the get the cat litter shovel and I waited in the living room with the door shut if the frog started having ideas about breathing and leaping and vile things like that.
Rob returned and suggested it was my fault that the cat had brought in a frog, because I had given them ideas about appropriate toys. He held this toy up to the crack in the door that I was looking through.
Seeing an ersatz frog so close to my face sent me into the screaming ab-dabs. I slammed the door, screamed very loudly and ran up and down the living room like someone who really really doesn't like frogs. Damm me buying that toy.
So then R had to get rid of the frog. But, the frog had gone. Where had it gone?! It was dead, wasn't it? No, it wasn't. Remember the cat's kidney problems? And the little cups of water around the house?
Yep, the frog had jumped into one of the water bowls.
OMG!
This little dive into water had apparently refreshed it, and it jumped into Natalie's face, scaring her into running away from her prize. Stupid cat.
Rob managed to get it back into the cup and then I had to be really brave and leave the living room to open the back door to let Rob dispose of the frog in the garden. After last time with the spade, I made sure he had his hand very firmly over the cup before exiting and helping him outside.
The cats are banned from the main part of the house for the rest of the day.
Happy birthday Rob!
As we are quite a casual sort of household, R was looking up things on the internet in our bedroom this morning, whilst I watched a Lebanese film downstairs in the living room. Casual, like I say.
I heard a cat come in and do the "mew mew, I'm here" thing that they do. I called out hello and waited for the cat to come in. It didn't, but carried on mewing so I went into the hall to investigate.
What I found HORRIFIED me, and I was extremely relieved she had not come into the living room.
Natalie had come in with a frog, and was proudly proclaiming this wonderful gift she'd brought in.
I think you know the drill:
"Rob, I need you!"
"What is it?"
"She's brought in a frog!"
Weirdly, she wasn't playing with it, just lying sort of curled around it. Rob went off to the get the cat litter shovel and I waited in the living room with the door shut if the frog started having ideas about breathing and leaping and vile things like that.
Rob returned and suggested it was my fault that the cat had brought in a frog, because I had given them ideas about appropriate toys. He held this toy up to the crack in the door that I was looking through.
Seeing an ersatz frog so close to my face sent me into the screaming ab-dabs. I slammed the door, screamed very loudly and ran up and down the living room like someone who really really doesn't like frogs. Damm me buying that toy.
So then R had to get rid of the frog. But, the frog had gone. Where had it gone?! It was dead, wasn't it? No, it wasn't. Remember the cat's kidney problems? And the little cups of water around the house?
Yep, the frog had jumped into one of the water bowls.
OMG!
This little dive into water had apparently refreshed it, and it jumped into Natalie's face, scaring her into running away from her prize. Stupid cat.
Rob managed to get it back into the cup and then I had to be really brave and leave the living room to open the back door to let Rob dispose of the frog in the garden. After last time with the spade, I made sure he had his hand very firmly over the cup before exiting and helping him outside.
The cats are banned from the main part of the house for the rest of the day.
Happy birthday Rob!
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Bringing things in...
Today I was sitting in the living room, having the first Saturday at home for a while when I heard a strange rustling. A very strange rustling. The only thing it could be was the cats. investigating or as I like to call it, up to no good.
Off I went to investigate myself and I found them doing this:
Same photo, more or less as the last post. That's my umbrella and my bike bag/pannier and cable lock next to them. I wondered what could be so interesting about my umbrella.
Nothing was interesting about my umbrella, there was something *in* the umbrella, most likely put there by the naughty cats.
"R, I need you"
"Why?"
"The cats have brought something in. What if it's another frog??!!"
R came down to investigate and attempt to reduce my rising panic. Natalie ran away, a little, but Nathan was not giving up whatever the umbrella contained:
I made him going away, using the tool used by cat owners everywhere. My foot.
R shook out the umbrella - what do you think it was? Another frog? A bird? A mouse?
Natalie was delighted by the easy access this offered:
It was none of the above. It was a butterfly. Now, butterflies are EXTRAORDINARILY precious and the fact that the cats had caught one, brought it in and were basically torturing it was very upsetting. We kept them away and it crawled up the side of the stairs off the carpet. We decided that, although its wings were a bit mangled, we'd take it out of the house. Here's a shot:
Those bright colours are suggesting to me that it doesn't taste of chicken. Cats are so thick.
At first, I thought it was a red admiral but it wasn't and I have no idea how to identify it.
So, we took it outside and returned to our Saturday morning activities.
Shortly afterwards, I heard the rustling again. The little buggers had got it back in!
We rescued it again, even more mangled, but clinging on to life. Poor poor butterfly! I gave it some sugar solution but its wings are so damaged, I don't think there's much hope. I can't bring myself to put it out of its misery but at least it's not being tortured any more.
Here's a little pic of it:
Cats will be cats, but I don't always have to be pleased about it. And if they'd just bring in a mouse, I'd be quite pleased.
Off I went to investigate myself and I found them doing this:
Same photo, more or less as the last post. That's my umbrella and my bike bag/pannier and cable lock next to them. I wondered what could be so interesting about my umbrella.
Nothing was interesting about my umbrella, there was something *in* the umbrella, most likely put there by the naughty cats.
"R, I need you"
"Why?"
"The cats have brought something in. What if it's another frog??!!"
R came down to investigate and attempt to reduce my rising panic. Natalie ran away, a little, but Nathan was not giving up whatever the umbrella contained:
I made him going away, using the tool used by cat owners everywhere. My foot.
R shook out the umbrella - what do you think it was? Another frog? A bird? A mouse?
Natalie was delighted by the easy access this offered:
It was none of the above. It was a butterfly. Now, butterflies are EXTRAORDINARILY precious and the fact that the cats had caught one, brought it in and were basically torturing it was very upsetting. We kept them away and it crawled up the side of the stairs off the carpet. We decided that, although its wings were a bit mangled, we'd take it out of the house. Here's a shot:
Those bright colours are suggesting to me that it doesn't taste of chicken. Cats are so thick.
At first, I thought it was a red admiral but it wasn't and I have no idea how to identify it.
So, we took it outside and returned to our Saturday morning activities.
Shortly afterwards, I heard the rustling again. The little buggers had got it back in!
We rescued it again, even more mangled, but clinging on to life. Poor poor butterfly! I gave it some sugar solution but its wings are so damaged, I don't think there's much hope. I can't bring myself to put it out of its misery but at least it's not being tortured any more.
Here's a little pic of it:
Cats will be cats, but I don't always have to be pleased about it. And if they'd just bring in a mouse, I'd be quite pleased.
Ranidaphobia
I don't recommend reading this post if you are of a nervous disposition.
Every now and again, the cats do something that looks a bit like this:
You and I might call that investigating. And when they are doing this, very little good can come of it.
Earlier this week, I was going from my bedroom to the bathroom to brush my teeth. It was quite late at night and the cats had been in for about an hour. During this two foot journey, I looked down at the foot of the stairs and noticed the cats investigating something. At first, I thought it was one of their catnip mice. But they're bored of them, what was it that was fascinating them so much?
It seemed to have a long tail, like a mouse - perhaps they'd finally caught one of the mice we hear scratching about in the walls every night?
Then I noticed it had two long bits. Like legs. Legs with two knees.
IT WAS A FROG.
Now, we must digress for a moment to explain about me and frogs. As a child, there were neighbours who had ponds in their gardens, and in these gardens resided frogs. And as we all know, frogs feel the need to have HUNDREDS of children. Known as froglets when they stop being tadpoles. And these froglets must leave the parent pond and go forth in to the world, only returning to create more evil spawn. So our garden became something of a froglet highway. There they'd be, night after night, hopping erratically across our garden. One of our friends once picked up a frog and brought it into our house and it leaped at me. A FROG LEAPED AT ME. This is not allowed. And ever since then, I cannot have a frog anywhere near me. I don't like looking at pictures of them, I don't think they're cute and I definitely do not want a frog anywhere near me where possible (strangely "foreign" frogs are fine, and I do think poison arrow frogs are quite sweet, being all blue and orange. In the zoo. Behind glass.).
So, let's go back to that evening, where the cats were investigating a frog. IN MY HOUSE.
I called out, "R, I need you". I must've sounded quite frantic as he appeared straightaway.
"What is it?"
"The cats have a FROG! Do something!" (there was swearing, but this is a family show)
I stood at the top of the stairs, wringing my hands like someone who doesn't want frogs in her house. R got the catlitter spade and scooped the frog up. On closer examination, it proved to be alive.
There was a LIVE frog in the house. Dead frogs are one thing, but one that's breathing? Breathing frogs JUMP. This was just getting worse!
Then I had to go and help by corraling the cats away from the back door so R could flick it into the garden. He explained what he wanted me to do, by gesticulating with the spade. The spade with a frog on the end of it.
There was more swearing. Finally it was over.
We then debriefed the incident with me explaining not to stick spades with frogs on the end of them in my face as I will scream and do swearing. R understood. We also mulled over how a frog appeared in the house, an hour after the cats had last been outside.
I realised they must have brought the frog in earlier in the day, it had hidden somewhere, then revealed itself for further playtime. Naturally, the thought made me feel sick. What if there were more frogs in the house? What if every nook and cranny was hiding a traumatised frog? It was enough to make me want a very long hot shower and a flamethrower.
R calmed me down, but the cats are now excluded from the house when we're not in. That hasn't stopped them though...
Every now and again, the cats do something that looks a bit like this:
You and I might call that investigating. And when they are doing this, very little good can come of it.
Earlier this week, I was going from my bedroom to the bathroom to brush my teeth. It was quite late at night and the cats had been in for about an hour. During this two foot journey, I looked down at the foot of the stairs and noticed the cats investigating something. At first, I thought it was one of their catnip mice. But they're bored of them, what was it that was fascinating them so much?
It seemed to have a long tail, like a mouse - perhaps they'd finally caught one of the mice we hear scratching about in the walls every night?
Then I noticed it had two long bits. Like legs. Legs with two knees.
IT WAS A FROG.
Now, we must digress for a moment to explain about me and frogs. As a child, there were neighbours who had ponds in their gardens, and in these gardens resided frogs. And as we all know, frogs feel the need to have HUNDREDS of children. Known as froglets when they stop being tadpoles. And these froglets must leave the parent pond and go forth in to the world, only returning to create more evil spawn. So our garden became something of a froglet highway. There they'd be, night after night, hopping erratically across our garden. One of our friends once picked up a frog and brought it into our house and it leaped at me. A FROG LEAPED AT ME. This is not allowed. And ever since then, I cannot have a frog anywhere near me. I don't like looking at pictures of them, I don't think they're cute and I definitely do not want a frog anywhere near me where possible (strangely "foreign" frogs are fine, and I do think poison arrow frogs are quite sweet, being all blue and orange. In the zoo. Behind glass.).
So, let's go back to that evening, where the cats were investigating a frog. IN MY HOUSE.
I called out, "R, I need you". I must've sounded quite frantic as he appeared straightaway.
"What is it?"
"The cats have a FROG! Do something!" (there was swearing, but this is a family show)
I stood at the top of the stairs, wringing my hands like someone who doesn't want frogs in her house. R got the catlitter spade and scooped the frog up. On closer examination, it proved to be alive.
There was a LIVE frog in the house. Dead frogs are one thing, but one that's breathing? Breathing frogs JUMP. This was just getting worse!
Then I had to go and help by corraling the cats away from the back door so R could flick it into the garden. He explained what he wanted me to do, by gesticulating with the spade. The spade with a frog on the end of it.
There was more swearing. Finally it was over.
We then debriefed the incident with me explaining not to stick spades with frogs on the end of them in my face as I will scream and do swearing. R understood. We also mulled over how a frog appeared in the house, an hour after the cats had last been outside.
I realised they must have brought the frog in earlier in the day, it had hidden somewhere, then revealed itself for further playtime. Naturally, the thought made me feel sick. What if there were more frogs in the house? What if every nook and cranny was hiding a traumatised frog? It was enough to make me want a very long hot shower and a flamethrower.
R calmed me down, but the cats are now excluded from the house when we're not in. That hasn't stopped them though...
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Hunter
We sat down for a meal (unusual, it's normally TV dinners round here) and I noticed Natalie looking like she was about to pounce on Nathan. I called to R to look out of the window, and we realised that he had something in his paws. A whitish, furryish something.
A mouse! One of our cats has finally caught a mouse!
We have mice, and can hear them scratching around in the walls. It would be good if the cats could catch a mouse, from time to time.
But then, mice aren't really very white, are they?
He began tossing and throwing this furryish object in the air, Natalie standing nearby looking extremely jealous.
I decided to go and investigate. Fortunately, he didn't run off with his prey and I got close enough to see that it wasn't a mouse. It was a little brown bird.
We have lots of birds in our garden, and we're particularly proud of the blue tit babies that are fledging and a pair of bullfinches that stop by from time to time. So far, we've not noticed the cats even paying much attention to the birds. Until now.
I think it was a sparrow, and it was dead. Nathan seemed to be quite enjoying gnawing it and playing with it, which was rather vile.
We were sort of impressed he caught something, as we didn't think he'd have it in him, and also really quite sad that a bird had died. I just hope the baby blue tits stay off the ground as they have been. Fingers crossed.
A mouse! One of our cats has finally caught a mouse!
We have mice, and can hear them scratching around in the walls. It would be good if the cats could catch a mouse, from time to time.
But then, mice aren't really very white, are they?
He began tossing and throwing this furryish object in the air, Natalie standing nearby looking extremely jealous.
I decided to go and investigate. Fortunately, he didn't run off with his prey and I got close enough to see that it wasn't a mouse. It was a little brown bird.
We have lots of birds in our garden, and we're particularly proud of the blue tit babies that are fledging and a pair of bullfinches that stop by from time to time. So far, we've not noticed the cats even paying much attention to the birds. Until now.
I think it was a sparrow, and it was dead. Nathan seemed to be quite enjoying gnawing it and playing with it, which was rather vile.
We were sort of impressed he caught something, as we didn't think he'd have it in him, and also really quite sad that a bird had died. I just hope the baby blue tits stay off the ground as they have been. Fingers crossed.
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