I am not a “cat guy,” so sometimes I need help understanding how “cat people” think. Today is one of those times.
A few weeks ago, Carol Pavlik wrote in this paper about her attempt to adopt a cat, only to be thwarted by a woman sitting behind a desk who peppered her with stern questions. What was her policy on declawing? Did she have a vet? What would the cat be fed? She answered carefully and thoughtfully, because she had “nothing but good intentions for our hypothetical kitty!”
And then the whole interview came to a screeching halt when the lady asked her: “Will you let your cat outdoors?”
Carol, who had owned cats as a child but was still one interview question away from being able to call herself a current card-carrying “cat lady,” answered: “Yes! Of course.”
End of interview. No cat for you, the stern lady said, because at this rescue all adopted cats had to be kept indoors.
Carol went home catless, having been deemed “unfit to adopt a cat.”
But she thought she would be a pretty good cat mom. After all, she reasoned, “Back in my carefree childhood in the 70s and 80s, our childhood cats enjoyed roaming outdoors, hiding among my mother’s hostas, pouncing on bugs, and stalking squirrels. We had more than a few dead mice delivered proudly to our front door, gifts from our fierce huntress returning from the wild.”
And here’s where my “I don’t understand cat-think” gene kicks in.
Because when I read about Carol’s childhood cat antics, and then read about that lady’s refusal to let her adopt a cat, all I could think about was the reign of terror that roaming cats unleash on the world. I wondered what the bugs, squirrels, and field mice would have to say if they were asked about it.
I read that lady’s stern refusal as a responsible concern for the welfare of other creatures, not primarily a concern for what might happen to the cat, as Carol seems to have read it.
But then, I’m not a “cat guy.” Sometimes I don’t understand how “cat people” think, so I may be misreading the stern lady’s intent. Maybe you can explain it to me and help me understand.
I didn’t have a cat when I was a kid, but the Zumstein family next door did. It, too, was an outdoor cat.
One day, when Bev Zumstein figured out how to open the little door that let into the tiny storage room under the back porch, we decided to explore. Inside the dusty little spider-filled cave was a jumble of dried skeletons—birds, mice, and who-knows-what—all murdered by their cat over the years and left to decompose. None seemed to have been torn apart or eaten out of hunger. They seemed to have been killed for no reason but fun on the cat’s nighttime rambles.
My family were dog owners, and we never let our dogs roam at will through the neighborhood, day or night. Dad was adamant about this. Pets living with us, he insisted, should have no needless impact on the natural world. They should remove nothing from the world—no killed mice, squirrels, or birds. They should leave behind no surprises for others to discover—piles of poo on the lawn or sandbox next door, or chewed-up Tonka-toys in front yards, or neighbors’ dogs’ bellies swelling with unexpected litters.
Pet ownership, Dad insisted, was more than just ensuring that our pet had a happy, safe life. It had to do with seeing to it that our pet’s life didn’t ruin our neighbors’ lives—whether those neighbors were species that lived inside of houses, or outside of them.
Oh, Dad was a hunter, and his dogs came along to help him kill pheasants and rabbits. Call it hypocrisy if you will, but no animal was killed unless it ended up on the dinner table, and the killing strictly adhered to Department of Conservation rules governing seasons, harvest limits, sex of birds taken, etc.
But that’s “dog guy” thinking about his pet’s impact on the world, I guess.
Can a “cat guy” say the same about his pet?
According to a study co-authored by scientists at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute and the US Fish and Wildlife Service, domestic cats kill anywhere from 6.9 to 20.7 billion mammals yearly, as well as 1.4 to 3.7 billion birds. Every year. Billions. With a B.
The British Ecological Society states that domestic cats are “the top source of direct human-related mortality for birds and small mammals in the United States, easily eclipsing other sources such as mortality from poisons and pesticides and collisions with structures and vehicles.”
Cats have been listed as a major player in the extinction of 33 species—so far.
And there is no telling how severely other species are impacted—owls, hawks, foxes—when they return to their hungry babies without the mice or birds that have been removed by wandering cats.
As I said at the outset, I am not a “cat guy.” I could be way off base on this. If you’re a “cat person,” maybe you can set my thinking straight.
But can you explain it to all those innocent little corpses your cat carries home?
TR Kerth is the author of the book “Revenge of the Sardines.” Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com.
