Worshiped as deities by the ancient Egyptians, the Mau cat continues to inspire awe and respect. Clocked at over 30mph and with the fastest reflexes of any domestic cat, this graceful breed, while unusually loyal to its owner and determined to demonstrate great affection, is a formidable hunter.
Four years ago the addition of a Mau to the family home proved the above in no uncertain terms. On the affection front, only the most cunning attempts to hide under covers in feigned sleep could avert a full chin licking lovin’ session. On the hunting front the local wildlife soon knew what to expect. A dead mouse or two wasn’t really going to break any of our hearts, but all the same even unharmed rodent prey brought proudly home through the cat-flap was rescued and returned to the great outdoors to live, at least we sometimes naively hoped, to face another day. Cat-owner guilt struck home more starkly on other occasions and the rescue of a semi-damaged baby blackbird led to the conservatory being turned into a springtime aviary, and constant worm diggings duties. Mauli ruled the roost. The king of the castle way up there in the local nature reserve ranking.
They say all good things come to an end, what goes up must normally come down. Lured rather forcibly one fine day into his enemy the cage, Mauli leaves his hunting paradise behind and lands hundreds of miles away in a darker wilderness with a rather mean old king already well established. Mauli’s confident prowess, his lean mean killing machine physique is cowed, his face gaunt, his body bleeding from surprise woozle attacks. No more hunting. No more great outdoors. A period of restless indoor nervousness becomes gradually a resigned slightly bored contentment. Indoor life isn’t so bad after all. More biscuits, more sleep, more taunting the dog, more family lovin’ and who cares about a rapidly developing podge. More weight to fling at passing dogs’ noses.
We all encourage a reintegration of the hunting urge telling Mauli happy hunting stories, urging him out the house, urging him to pounce and catch, even causing a brief sore head by locking the cat-flap which Mauli unwisely charges.
Out of the blue. One dark night. Last night in fact. Flop, flop, bump, flop, bump, kerump through the cat-flat, thump, flop, bump, slick bump under the table. Mauli eyes glittering in triumph holding down a wildly flittering foot long fish.
Shrieks bring me running to find fish already installed in the kitchen washing up bowl, floating a little unevenly, breathing rapidly, a few gold-flecked scaled floating gently to the surface. The clock ticks past midnight. The cat looks a little more than mildly peeved. Minutes later the foot-long carp is idly swimming around our freshly-filled bathtub.
Options:
1- Scour the neighbourhood for owner of missing fish – internet ratings seem to place the value at anything between £30 and £300 depends on exact condition and variety. There could be somehow out there even more peeved than the cat. But where the hell did the cat hunt this fish down? All the neighbourhood ponds must surely be as properly frozen over as our own is right now with their occupants happily living in idle hibernation somewhere far below the icy surface.
2- Fob the fish off on the local pet shop...maybe even make a few quid. Or then again, maybe not. There is still a prominent tooth mark showing. Incriminating evidence.
3- Leave the fish in the bath until either the cat discovers that he is being hidden there and finishes him off, or until the plug inevitably comes unstuck ...leaving us as heartbroken as Gussie Fink-Nottle upon the loss of his breeding newts but without the presence of a Sir Watkyn Bassett to blame for the mishap...unless of course the stress pushes one of us over the edge and into midnight Bassett mode.
4- Wait for an obliging person to smash through the several inches of ice on our own pond and acclimatize carpfish to his new home. Always running the risk of recapture...
The Dog seems to have taken his instructions to guard the fish a little too seriously, neurotically refusing his food and howling upon hearing a potential crime perpetrator inside the bathroom while being locked outside the bathroom.
The Cat seems to have lost a phantom 2 pounds with his late night adventure and called it a day...or perchance a week, a month or a year. Sunk in peaceful slumber.
The Fish ...is still in the bathtub, busy generating a growing aquarium odour.
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