A United Kingdom of Cats

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Now most human beings have some affection for animals. Not all I grant you, but most human beings value having a ‘pet’. It may be a dog or a cat or a gerbil or a hamster or a rabbit or a rat or an Armadillo.

A random cat in the UK which may or may not resemble any of the author's cats.  Pic courtesy of adpost.com.
A random cat in the UK which may or may not resemble any of the author’s cats. Pic courtesy of adpost.com.

Well. OK. An Armadillo might be unusual but, most humans have a ‘soft spot’ for animals – well, at least the one’s they aren’t eating at the time.

Over here in Blighty we are known as, or consider ourselves as, a ‘Nation Of Dog Lovers’ and, indeed we are. Unlike North Korea we don’t eat the buggers at any rate which, from the dogs point of view is probably a plus. Deep fried Chihuahua is not generally high on the British menu – well it could be if there were enough Yorkshire Puddings and Roast Potato’s and gravy but perhaps I shouldn’t venture there in case anyone thinks I’m actually Kim Jong-un pretending to be Norman Rampart and only writing for MMA to find out your weaknesses prior to launching a pre-emptive nuclear strike.

“What??? They don’t eat dogs???? Western Imperialists!!!! NUKE THEM NOW!!!!”

Anyhow, where was I? I’ve no idea so no change there then, I do tend to digress a bit don’t I? I do apologize – OH YES! CATS!!

Now cats are ideal pets. As long as you feed, water them and empty their litter trays they, frankly, couldn’t give a monkeys. You can live in THEIR house – and yes, you have the mortgage but don’t think that makes the house yours you idiot – If you have a cat your home is their home and your home is, actually, THEIR home. It isn’t yours. In no way, shape or form is your home YOUR home it is THEIRS!!!!

As a part of the British National Charity ‘Cats Protection’ I have, not surprisingly, had many dealing with cats. Some of said ‘dealings’ have been bizarre at best.

We, our Branch of CP, once went off to sort out a feral colony. We had to trap, neuter and return them – providing there is a food source and there was. ‘Rescue’ kittens under 5 weeks can be ‘domesticated’, but over 5 weeks and you’re pushing your luck. Domestically 8 weeks is the ‘weening period’, but in wild cats it’s 5 weeks max. Over 5 weeks and they’ll rip your eyes out.

I wore protective goggles, thick gloves and a heavy coat. I started to crawl through the undergrowth towards the spot we believed the kittens were. I spotted them and called back “I’ve got ’em”

At that point the ‘Queen’ – the kittens feral mum dropped out of a low lying branch above my head and went ‘PSSSSSSSSSZZZZZZZZZZ!!!’ – She then lashed out at me with her claws and made a serious adjustment to my heavy coat by slicing through the shoulder of it – so deeply she actually drew blood and it was a heavy coat!

“Er – I think I’ll crawl back out now” I said in a cowardly but, none the less, self preservation fashion.

“Oh no you won’t!!” responded the wifey, who clearly had mistaken the situation as a pantomime.

Anyhow, I managed to grab a few of the kittens whilst the feral mother continued to go ballistic and slash any bit of me within reach – at one point she moved behind me and I suggested to the wifey that my reproductive skills may be about to be compromised.

“We’ve already got a kid so don’t worry about it!” she replied – I presume in an encouraging way but, I admit, I felt minimal encouragement.

Britain prides itself on being a ‘Nation Of Dog Lovers” and indeed it is – if you forget the morons who let their dogs run wild and kill teenage girls as recently reported over here.

DJ was a ‘rescue cat’ who stayed with us rather than being rehomed. Not our call. It just sort of ‘happened’. He lived until the age of 20. Not at all bad for a cat. His brother Scampi made it to 21. They would have been feral cats and would almost certainly have died of FIV or FELV by about 10 or 12 at best.

Cats Protection saved, loved, fed, watered and cleaned their litter trays – well, the bit of CP that is our house did anyways.

As a thank you DJ and Scampi allowed us to live in our house – er – their house – and gave us so many years of pleasure and laughter and furry hugs and hairballs and decapitated mice on the kitchen floor and half eaten pigeons on the doorstep –

Dogs adore their owners – assuming their owners are sensible.

Owners adore their cats because, otherwise, they’d be living in the street.

God Save The Queen and God Bless the memories of DJ and Scampi – never forgotten guys. Never.

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About Post Author

Neil Bamforth

I am English first, British second and never ever European. I have supported Oldham Athletic FC for 50 years which has made me immune from depression. My taste buds have died due to too many red hot curries so I drink Kronenburg beer and milk - sometimes in the same glass. I have a wife, daughter, 9 cats and I like toast.
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