Love Thine Enemy
One reason some people have a cat or two, is to deal with pesky rodents. That’s not something we expect from our cat Chester who would rather eat grass than chase a critter.
A reddit user who goes by the handle, vladgrinch, probably thought his cat should be a mouser. But a mouser doesn’t guarantee the feline is a ratter. Rats are much bigger than cats and apparently vladgrinch’s pet decided it would be smarter to love a rat rather than fight one.
Vladgrinch posted a video of his cat’s encounter with a large rat; what ensued was not the outcome the pet owner expected.
Instead of hissing, pouncing and battling the large rodent in a deathmatch, the cat decided it would be better to wrestle, hug and lick the rat. For its part, the rat looked to thoroughly enjoy the cat bath, to the point of even appearing to giggle at being tickled by the would-be foe.
“When you get a cat hoping it will help you get rid of the big rat in your yard,” was vladgrinch’s comment posted with the video.
I showed the video to Chester who immediately went into cardiac arrest. I wasn’t too concerned as I had seen this act before. We just happened to have a cat defibrillator with paddles made of tuna cans. A quick jolt and a whiff of catnip and Chester was back to his incorrigible self.
“I’m I dead or did I just see one of my own kissing a rat,” Chester said in disbelief accompanied with heavy breathing to add to the effect.
“You’re correct on the second part,” I said.
“I think I’m going to have a kitten,” Chester said staggering across the room as he channeled his inner Fred Sanford.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I deadpanned “But I’d like to see you try.”
“Make that a whole litter of kittens. Call an ambulance,” Chester wailed.
“Why are you so worked up over that video,” I asked.
“Because that poor excuse of a felis silvestris catus just violated rule one of the cat code,” Chester exclaimed.
“Go on,” I said.
“A cat shall not cavort with a rodent of any type, especially a rat,” my now fully recovered pet yelled.
“So, it’s wrong,” I asked.
“WRONG? Are you kidding me? It’s historically wrong. Ever since us cats helped the Egyptians thousands of years ago to take on their rat problem, we’ve been at war with those beady eyed, disease carrying rodents,” and exasperated Chester said.
“Anything I can do to help,” I inquired.
“Yes! Help me wash my eyes to get that horrible vision out of my head,” Chester said with force.
“I thought you cleaned yourself,” I said.
“Yes, I can lick just about every part of my body, but not my eyes. Do you think I’m a lizard,” an irritated Chester scowled.
I started to say something like, “What about when you lick your paws and…..”, but I thought better of it.
I needed a break from my over acting pet, but I made things worse when I called up an old Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse cartoon on YouTube for some entertainment.
“What the heck is that,” Chester declared.
It’s a show about a cat and mouse working together to fight crime. You have a problem with that,” I asked, waiting for detonation.
“You’re sick,” Chester grimaced. “I just had a near-death experience watching that cat-rat thing and now you put this on? I have an idea. Let’s watch lions eating people at the Roman Coliseum? That always brightens my day.”
“You’re equating cats and rodents getting along to your bigger relatives eating humans,” I asked.
“Of course. You like horror, and that’s what a cat befriending a rodent is, and I like horror but with a happy ending. Let’s call it even and never show me a video like that again,” Chester explained. “Deal?”
“To shut you up, sure,” I said surrendering my will to continue with this nonsense.
“Now let me eat like a lion and bring me my kibble,” our king of beast roared.
Speaking of rodent-hunting cats. A recent study determined that owning a mouser during childhood led to an increased probability of psychotic experiences as an adult.
This illuminating finding, published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research noted that the psychotic episodes happened with the male subjects, not the females.
As a teenager my family had a cat named Elizabeth. I also had in my bedroom a three-dimensional tic-tac-toe game consisting of heavy hard plastic balls. Every morning while I was sleeping soundly, Elizabeth would walk in my room, jump on the shelf where the game was, stare at me for a minute and then one-by-one, flip a ball onto the floor where it would make a loud sound. As much as I tried to not pay attention to the noise, Elizabeth would keep knocking over each ball until she got the desired effect, my waking up in a foul mood.
This daily torture from my cat helps explain why I’m sometimes called crazy.
Oh, did I mention that Elizabeth was both an indoor and outdoor cat. That meant she would have a fun night out killing rodents and getting pregnant. Two more things she was good at besides waking me up when I didn’t want to be.
The researchers gave their paper a fancy long name (Conditional associations between childhood cat ownership and psychotic experiences in adulthood: A retrospective study) which is typical of such people and maybe another form of psychosis. A more direct title would have been “Man, what was your mother thinking getting you a cat as a child: A ridiculous study”.
My daughters grew up with our great cat, Emma, and now my youngest is the reason we have our current feline, Chester. Having a cat during their childhood didn’t turn my kids into unhinged adults. Having me as their father accomplished that, but I’ll blame it all on Elizabeth.