The Whiskas Chronicles – Let Battle Commence

Posted: April 13, 2009 in animals, Life, Spain, Tenerife
Tags: , , , , , , ,

What is the point of cats? I’m serious, will someone please answer me this question; what is the purpose of a cat? What do we get in return for feeding, pampering and generally making cats’ lives one of generally living in the lap of luxury? Sleep, eat…sleep, eat…sleep, eat…oh and every so often act like mercenary, arrogant and ungrateful little gits.

Until the age of 13 I was a dog person; still am really. But cats have played a part in my life since around 1987. None, I have to say, were ever invited to live with me and Andy, they were forced upon us without our say in the matter.

Dogs repay love and their keep by working, being bezzer mates and jumping in front of you to protect you if someone attacks you. A cat in the same situation would light up a cigarette, turn its back and start looking for some other mug to feed it.

Whiskas, I’m afraid to say, has embraced the dark side. Barely a week after fretting about his whereabouts and being distraught at the thought that I might never see him again, I’m at the point of sharpening the wood axe and planning in my mind’s eye the spot on the wall where his head will be displayed as a trophy and a warning to other feline freeloaders.

The cat’s gone completely doolally. For the past few nights, for no apparent reason, he’s started to wail throughout the night. This is a cat who hardly says a word through the day apart from a bit of excited chuntering when he’s being fed.
Not only does he wail, but he wails and wanders, so we get the effect of a feline siren moving from the back door to the front. He’s also got an annoyingly effective habit of pressing his mouth to the door crack, maximising his sleep-piercing cries. As if that wasn’t enough, he also angrily rattles the door from our bedroom to the back terrace . You can imagine what someone rattling your bedroom door in the wee small hours does to the old ticker.

For the last three nights I’ve had to put a barricade of camping chairs and a fold up table against the door to deter the little bugger.

So the repayment for providing food and a comfy place to lie, until we go to bed and he gets turfed out, is to torture us with sleep depravation. Like I asked, what is the benefit of having a cat?

We’ve been here before and the T-shirt is getting very faded now, but we thought that we’d all reached a nice place and moved on. Clearly not. Andy and I are now planning a strategy which involves generous use of the cold shoulder, sending him to Coventry and the real ‘hit him where it hurts’ tactic moving his bowl back outside to remind him that his situation with us is a privilege and not a right.

For now the axe remains in the garden shed. Whether it stays there will depend on how he responds.

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Comments
  1. Catherine Sherman says:

    Humans exist only to serve our cat masters….Ours is not to reason why, ours is just to do or die (or something like that…)

    We have the same cat problems in our household, and yet I am under their spell. I think I’ve been brain-washed somehow.

  2. dragojac says:

    Yeh, I believe sleep deprivation leaves you vulnerable to brain-washing. And if it continues, somebody’s definitely gonna die or get dumped amongst the wild dogs in the Mount Teide crater. Enough is enough, it’s time to fight back!

  3. Pamela says:

    Ah, now I see what the problem is.

    You’d think, with the number of cats I’ve had that I could offer some answers, but I can no more tell you what purpose cats have (none that I can fathom) than how to reset their clocks. Nothing logical will work, that’s all I know! And, knowing cats, the cold shoulder treatment is likely to be as effective as a proverbial chocolate teapot.

    Thought of trying sleeping pills or earplugs? 🙂

  4. […] musing about the general uselessness of cats to a helpful guide on how to read between the rules in Tenerife, Jack shares his slightly mad […]

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