Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.

24.5.07

Cats.

Of course, we shouldn't have congratulated ourselves after having successfully gotten rid of the feral cats infesting the neighbourhood and destroying birdlife along Merri Creek. Although it was an immensely difficult task.

There are two ways to do things, the official way and the way that works.

The official way was to 'apply' to the council for a cat cage, 'apply' meaning ring up about a hundred times to get put onto a 'list'. Ringing up and actually being put on the 'list' are not things that happen on the same day or at all - lest you think someone at the council has a pen and a piece of paper and a telephone all on the same table at the same time. Every time we rang up to find out how the 'list' was progressing, our name was no longer on it.

During this time, the council was engaged in holding meetings to Free David Hicks, meetings at which his father, Mr Terry Hicks, was feted. Speaking of freeing things, I suggest we free the council of all of their appointed tasks, allowing them to work full-time on Freeing David Hicks. This would be a win for council, since councils are basically incapable of carrying out any practical task whatsoever; and a win for ratepayers, for exactly the same reason. Object to your rates being used for political purposes? Hell, no. I'd pay well over my annual thousand dollar rate bill just to get council off my back. If that results in David Hicks walking around lowering - or maybe raising - Adelaide's average IQ, fine by me.

Anyway, eventually a guy rocks up with a cat cage. It was a lovely cat cage. It was battered and the gate didn't close properly and it still had a filthy decaying old chop bone in it from the last ratepaying feral-cat infested house. Council hadn't cleaned it. Nice. Maybe they thought leaving the bone in it was 'recycling' and that my feral cats would enjoy having a bit of a chew on it.

To cut a long story short, we caught a cat in due course. Then they took away the cage and the cat. So it's Goodbye Pussy #1, but what about the other eighty-five? You have to apply again for the cage.

Where's my gun? Just kidding. We took matters into our own hands. A neighbour is a veterinary nurse and she obtained a multiplicity of cat cages - clean - and over a period of several weeks, we managed to trap enough cats to keep Andrew Lloyd Weber in musicals until he thinks of something worth watching.

3 comments:

Terry Oglesby said...

Maybe if Jihad Dave is sprung, he'll be eaten by feral cats.

"Circle of life," and all.

neil said...

Nice work, I'm so not a cat person. Now if only we could get the farmers to stop shooting endangered bird species.

kitchen hand said...

Terry, there's a use for everything.

Neil, I do like cats but not sixty-five of them under the house.