When my indoor-only cats kill something, it’s in my house. Most of the time, they are members of the feline leisure class. When rodents (and bugs, for that matter) dare enter my house, killing them is their damn job, and they do it well. I praise them for keeping my house vermin-free, because otherwise, I’d have to deal with it. They recently killed a pretty large rat that I am glad I did not encouter while it was alive. Thank you, Shadow and Harley.
I agree that, in most situations, cats should stay indoors. They have a significant negative impact on wild populations. I can offer cites if people want, but I doubt anyone will try to argue this point.
I dunno. I kept getting confused about which gender was spayed and which was neutered, so I just say “neutered” now. “Spayed” sounds like I hit the poor thing with a shovel.
In any event, the animal can no longer reproduce.
The common term around here is “fixed”.
Yes, we have them straight. Cats are killing machines – that’s what they do.
They will politely pretend to listen to your arguments about the sanctity of life, then they will pounce on the next thing that moves in just the right way, be it a leaf, a cricket, or a bird.
Cats with bells kill birds. Cats inside homes kill birds. Not as many, granted, but they’re quite capable of it.
I won’t be putting a bell on my cat because collars on cats are not a good idea… cats tend to get the collars hung up on things and strangle. Vicki is an inside/outside cat. She will remain one.
My cat stays outside because she sprays on the walls. I tried everything-had her spayed, used Feliway, nothing worked. Ever smell cat piss? Try having it all in your carpet and having to replace it. I’ll never have another cat inside my house.
IIRC, that ain’t piss, it’s piss and musk, mixed. And yeah, it’s nasty.
That’s rare in femles, especially “fixed” females. I had a baby tomcat sleeping on my bed when he felt the need to try out his musk glands for the first time in the middle of the night… OH! MY! GOD!
Ah, [mode=Aziraphale]an Australian[/mode]. See, in some other parts of the world cats aren’t viewed in the same vein as rats. Call it a foible if you like.
Time enough to worry about cats when the rabbit population’s been managed, surely?
In a previous thread concerning cat behaviour I copied out two chunks of a passage from Catwatching by Desmond Morris. In this thread I decided to paraphrase the author. This has perhaps given the erroneous impression that I agree with him.
In addition to ‘owning’ a cat I put out food and water for birds. The birds take priority over the cat.
In my case I am fortunate in having a particularly lazy female who spends all day, by her choice, upstairs in a cupboard. (Please note that I am still referring to the cat rather than my female human partner).
Therefore a cat/bird conflict does not apply in my case. In the 10 years I have had this cat (and provided for the birds) I have found two dead birds in the garden. She has never brought home dead presents (or live ones) during this time. Cat behaviour varies and the means of dealing with this behaviour will vary accordingly.
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PS. I will take this opportunity to urge people who are concerned about birds to make sure they have clean water to drink and bathe in during this extremely hot weather.
My cat (who is a rather large “lady”) managed to get herself and a pigeon through our cat door and bring it into the living room. How on earth she did it, I have no idea.
My cats (and I don’t think they’re unique in this regard) shake their kibble. Get a mouthful and violently shake their heads, breaking the little kibble’s kibbly neck.
My dog brings me socks as offerings. She’ll find one under the bed, or take one from the laundry basket and bring it to us, tail wagging furiously. I thinks he does this because she got confused when I used to take socks from her as a pup-- I’d tell her to drop it and then when she did, praise her. It stopped her from chewing on socks, but now she thinks that I like it when she brings me socks and drops them in front of me.
She’s doing it because she wants to please me, and that is something that always deserves reward. I always say, “Thank you,” and give her a scruff-rub. If I just scooped up the sock and tossed it into the basket, I think she’d be dissapointed. Thus, I can see where cat owners are coming from when they want to praise their cats for the bloody little gifts.
In a sense, the cat is anthropomorphising (felipromorphising?) the human. It it bringing to the human what the* cat* thinks is a great gift. Whether it’s doing it to teach the human to hunt, or to feed them, or even if it’s just to impress upon the fur-less what a mighty hunter he is, the cat is seeking human approval. Nasty as I may find the gift, I would never reject a creature reaching out to me with a sincere desire for my praise and affection. That’s just mean.
But I won’t pretend to eat it like my aunt did. That’s just gross.
Are cats little humans to be treated with all the manners that entails, or little killing machines that take no notice of you anyway? There seems to be some confusion.
Actually, the rabbits are more of a problem further south. We don’t have much of a rabbit problem in Queensland. But we do have a huge feral cat problem. You don’t hear much about it, but it’s there. Many of the native marsupial species are on the verge of extinction, and feral cats are one of the biggest causes. They are fencing off huge (many square miles) preservation areas with cat-proof fences and spending years killing all the cats inside. They also try and take out any rabbits and foxes, but it’s the cats that are the biggest problem.
Also rabbits got hit really hard with the mixamatosis virus. If they come up with a similar plague for cats, just watch the arguements over whether to release it or not.
This reminds me. When I was about 8 I crawled out of bed one Saturday moring before anyone else to commandeer the TV and steer it towards my preferred cartoons. I knew our cat would be at the back door waiting to be let in so I went to open it.
When I opened the door I saw The Offering.
Across the top three steps were scattered a rich array of treats. A dead bird. A collection of twigs and sticks. A pot plant’s severed tag. Half a tennis ball. A mouse (wriggling). Rubbish. Soft drink cans, chip packets, bits of egg carton. Bottle caps. Clumps of earth. Strips of bark.
And a matching pair of gardening gloves laid carefully beside each other.
In the middle of it all was Pickles. Our Neuroti-Cat. Mewing and purring softly, looking up at me.
Her whole attitude screamed. ‘OMG - you’re here!. Look. What. I. Have For. You. Love me.’
I just looked at her for a minute. Noticing my lack of significant reaction, her eyes became pleading: ‘D’you like it…? You do… like it… don’t you?’
I fetched Mum with ‘Um, the cat’s doing weird stuff’. My parents weren’t impressed but I don’t think she was punished.
