I would never wish bad publicity on a fellow member of the animal kingdom, but the fact is the wildlife service folks are just catching up to what is common knowledge among the four-legged set. What exactly, did humans think cats were doing the 99 percent of the time no one can see them? They’re on the prowl, of course.
Even though I only knew my mother for a few weeks, it was long enough for her to tell me that if you don’t have something nice to bark about, don’t bark at all.
And you thought only your mom said that.
Still, I must say that I purred a tiny bit to myself recently at the not-exactly-stop-the-press news that dogs have known for a long time – that cats are “stone-cold serial killers and slaughter billions of animals each year.”
Cat owners, please, do not flood me with cute pictures of your pet playing with twine, or cuddling up on your lap. Send your catty comments to the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute and the US Fish and Wildlife Service who have compiled nationwide data, that cats are responsible for the deaths of up to 3.7 billion birds and 20.7 billion small mammals every year, including mice, rabbits, voles, and shrews.
Some of my best friends are voles and I can assure you that they are gentle souls who prefer to just live underground and let the world pass them by. And while I have been known to unearth a few, it was only to play with, – not swallow – them which would be bad taste in so many ways. Same with shrews, where I have always followed the advice of Shakespeare’s dog to tame, not eat them.
I would never wish bad publicity on a fellow member of the animal kingdom, but the fact is the wildlife service folks are just catching up to what is common knowledge among the four-legged set. What exactly, did humans think cats were doing the 99 percent of the time no one can see them?
They’re on the prowl, of course.
And don’t tell me it’s just their nature. Sure we’re all descended from hunters. Go back far enough into any dog’s DNA and you’ll find a wolf. But the fact is that somewhere along the evolutionary line we realized that chewing on a stick was just as satisfying as chewing on a leg and that puppy chow tastes an awful lot like chicken. What’s more, we discovered that if you have enough charm, you don’t really have to kill your food. Give your owner the big eyes and circle the dish a few times and dinner will come to you.
Frankly, I always thought that cats knew that too. They’ve got charm enough to live off the kindness of humans when they want to, but so often they’d just rather not. You can’t figure cats. The first cat I ever met was friendly enough until my master’s back was turned and out came the claws. I still have the scar on my forehead to remind me of a certain feline fact of life: Just because they can’t kill you doesn’t mean they don’t want to.
So what to do? Well, if you’re a dog it’s probably enough to thank your stars that you were born without a voice in the back of your head that says, “kill, kill.” If you’re human you can just ignore your cat’s dark side and keep deluding yourself into believing that cats were put on this earth to pay attention to you, rather than the other way around.
And if you’re a vole, or a shrew, you’d better head for the hills.
Or better yet, get a dog.
See you around the evolutionary ladder.
Theo Chipkin doesn't do email, but you can reach him in care of his agent at rchipkin@repub.com