The Adventures of Black Cat
The other day I was sitting in my comfy chair in the living room, when I heard Black Cat maowing out in the hall. I knew it was Black Cat, because Black Cat is a very vocal cat. Unlike White Cat, who, when really, really worked up can managed to force out a tiny, pale pink meep, or even Big Cat, who, despite his size and general resemblance to a smallish panther, has a limited vocal repertoire which basically consists of a slightly deeper and more macho version of White Cat's meep.
Black Cat, on the other hand, has a large, varied and LOUD selection of MAOWs and RAOOOWRs and YAWWWLs and OWOWOWWWWs which she visits upon us with great insistence on a regular basis. Usually I just ignore her, but this particular threnody emanating from the hall had an unusual timbre to it, with deeper, more plangent overtones than her normal, everyday complaints. She was obviously trying to tell me something important ("Come here, Monkey, I require your attention now!"), so I went to investigate.
And found Black Cat triumphantly standing guard over the corpse of a very small and very dead bird. Upon my arrival, I was greeted with another MRRAOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!, which I took to mean "Look! See what I have done! Gaze upon my mighty deeds with awe, O Monkey!", and a final coda of "WAAAAAOW!", which, accompanied as it was by a disconsolate look and a hopeful poke of the paw at the moribund prey, translated very obviously to: "It's broken!"
Now, Black Cat was a bit of a terror to the garden fauna in her youth, but she is no kitten any more and her best hunting days are clearly behind her*, so I assumed that she'd either found the thing dead already, or simply bumped into it by lucky chance. I disposed of the corpse, and related the tale to The Husband later, who also dismissed the idea that Black Cat had actually managed to catch it herself.
However, earlier today, what should I hear coming from the hall, but Black Cat's yowl, again with that unusual contralto harmonic to it. I duly trotted through from the kitchen, and there was Black Cat, with another tiny garden bird in her mouth. She dropped it on the carpet and we both looked at it. I could see that this one was still alive, but it looked as if it wouldn't be for much longer. I didn't attempt to rescue it as experience has taught me that rescuing half-dead prey from felines is rarely an act of kindness, and it's better just to let nature take its course. Nature had other ideas in this case. Black Cat prodded the motionless bird with a paw, at which point it rose into the air, flew off through the utility room Bob and into the kitchen.
The look on Black Cat's face was, I promise you, priceless.
I went through to the kitchen, expecting to find that the bird had expired into the cheese sauce or something, but no! It was sitting on the worktop, apparently alive and well. When it saw me, it flew straight into the window with a thud. Miraculously even this didn't kill it. Armed with a broom, I opened both the kitchen doors and prodded it in that general direction. Amazingly enough, it took the hint, found the open doors and flew off into the garden.
Black Cat, meanwhile had trotted off into the conservatory and was writhing vigorously on her back. Bear in mind that this cat is sixteen years old and slightly arthritic. And also mad. A couple of years ago she developed an over-active thyroid, and had half of it removed. Judging by her inappropriately-energetic behaviour of late, another trip to the vet to lose the other half seems to be on the cards!
* Unlike Big Cat, who is a serious menace to birds and small mammals alike, as demonstrated by the bloody pile of feathers which used to be a large pigeon discovered at the bottom of the garden, and the incident when, leaving in the car, we passed Big Cat on his way down from the farm with a rabbit in his mouth. Not dragging it along, as cats usually have to do with large prey, but grasped firmly in his gob, head held high, striding purposely down the hill. He gave us a quick sideways glance as we passed - "...nothing to see here, monkeys, move along now..." - and continued on his way.
Black Cat, on the other hand, has a large, varied and LOUD selection of MAOWs and RAOOOWRs and YAWWWLs and OWOWOWWWWs which she visits upon us with great insistence on a regular basis. Usually I just ignore her, but this particular threnody emanating from the hall had an unusual timbre to it, with deeper, more plangent overtones than her normal, everyday complaints. She was obviously trying to tell me something important ("Come here, Monkey, I require your attention now!"), so I went to investigate.
And found Black Cat triumphantly standing guard over the corpse of a very small and very dead bird. Upon my arrival, I was greeted with another MRRAOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!, which I took to mean "Look! See what I have done! Gaze upon my mighty deeds with awe, O Monkey!", and a final coda of "WAAAAAOW!", which, accompanied as it was by a disconsolate look and a hopeful poke of the paw at the moribund prey, translated very obviously to: "It's broken!"
Now, Black Cat was a bit of a terror to the garden fauna in her youth, but she is no kitten any more and her best hunting days are clearly behind her*, so I assumed that she'd either found the thing dead already, or simply bumped into it by lucky chance. I disposed of the corpse, and related the tale to The Husband later, who also dismissed the idea that Black Cat had actually managed to catch it herself.
However, earlier today, what should I hear coming from the hall, but Black Cat's yowl, again with that unusual contralto harmonic to it. I duly trotted through from the kitchen, and there was Black Cat, with another tiny garden bird in her mouth. She dropped it on the carpet and we both looked at it. I could see that this one was still alive, but it looked as if it wouldn't be for much longer. I didn't attempt to rescue it as experience has taught me that rescuing half-dead prey from felines is rarely an act of kindness, and it's better just to let nature take its course. Nature had other ideas in this case. Black Cat prodded the motionless bird with a paw, at which point it rose into the air, flew off through the utility room Bob and into the kitchen.
The look on Black Cat's face was, I promise you, priceless.
I went through to the kitchen, expecting to find that the bird had expired into the cheese sauce or something, but no! It was sitting on the worktop, apparently alive and well. When it saw me, it flew straight into the window with a thud. Miraculously even this didn't kill it. Armed with a broom, I opened both the kitchen doors and prodded it in that general direction. Amazingly enough, it took the hint, found the open doors and flew off into the garden.
Black Cat, meanwhile had trotted off into the conservatory and was writhing vigorously on her back. Bear in mind that this cat is sixteen years old and slightly arthritic. And also mad. A couple of years ago she developed an over-active thyroid, and had half of it removed. Judging by her inappropriately-energetic behaviour of late, another trip to the vet to lose the other half seems to be on the cards!
* Unlike Big Cat, who is a serious menace to birds and small mammals alike, as demonstrated by the bloody pile of feathers which used to be a large pigeon discovered at the bottom of the garden, and the incident when, leaving in the car, we passed Big Cat on his way down from the farm with a rabbit in his mouth. Not dragging it along, as cats usually have to do with large prey, but grasped firmly in his gob, head held high, striding purposely down the hill. He gave us a quick sideways glance as we passed - "...nothing to see here, monkeys, move along now..." - and continued on his way.