All posts filed under: Pets

Killer cat curtailed by CatBib

THE QUEST TO CURTAIL the killer cat continues with the addition of a ‘CatBib’ The ‘CatBib’ has arrived and already, it has curtailed the killer cat. The concept is not exactly rocket science. Made out of a sort of lightweight rubbery fabric, it attaches to the cat’s collar by means of Velcro. Invented by a ‘bird-feeding, cat lover’ in Springfield, Oregon, USA, the device seems to be doing the trick. The bib’s success is explained thus: “it works by gently interfering with the cat’s precise timing and co-ordination skills needed for successful bird hunting. The ‘CatBib’ is broad at the bottom and so when the cat lifts its paws to catch the bird, it simultaneously lifts the ‘CatBib’ which is then between the cat and the bird. It works by using the simple principle of ‘getting in the way’. And get in the way it does. Fortunately, Dexter was quite accustomed to a collar but the addition of a bib did not exactly have him meowing with excitement; quite the contrary. At first, he required …

Quest to curtail killer cat

OUR CAT IS A KILLER. There, I’ve confessed. My biggest fears have been realised and he’s brought home his booty like the proud killer he is. I have taken one injured bird to the vet and another died while cushioned in a box filled with the softest shredded paper—the others, I’m afraid, were too far gone to rescue. For years, I fought against my daughter’s pleas of owning a cat—resisted the adorable charms of kittens in pet shop windows or staring with unbearable cuteness from adopt-a-kitten websites. I was proud of my steely resolve not to succumb. All along, I knew these adorable balls of fluff eventually turned into killers. Of course I gave in. It was surely serendipitous that I happened to be visiting my son’s friend at the very same time her cat had just had kittens? So we acquiesced and gained ownership of a soft, adorable ginger and white part-ragdoll, part-tabby kitten. But even adorable fluff balls eventually succumb to their instincts. A few months later, he was a fine-tuned killing machine …

Leading a Blonde Astray

I took my dog for a walk this morning. I snuck out the back way, through the bush and along the fire track. I was rather hoping to avoid Slater. Slater is the neighbourhood vagabond. We live in a picturesque little enclave where most properties ramble into each other without the concern of fences. This is not sensible suburbia, neatly fenced and gated where the neighbourhood dogs are restricted to their allotted area. In spite of the general lack of confines, however, most local dogs stay on their own turf and have no interest in roaming further than the postbox at the end of a rather long driveway. Slater has changed all that.