Felix Domesticus

Cod Latin it may be, but few will fail to understand the translation of my title this week.  There are an estimated 12 million of the little darlings in this country, and over a quarter of our households admit to owning at least one of them.

I readily confess to having been one of those owners in my past.  I admit, too, that I wasn't the most responsible of cat owners.  It seemed like a nice idea at the time and accommodated the needs of a friend who was embarrassed by the arrival of another litter, but he was soon relegated to the level of a household possession that required regular attention, like the hoover and the washing machine.

Cartoonists often portray believable contrasts between cats and dogs, the one being fiercely independent, purposeful and single-minded, the other loyal, loving, malleable and 'man's best friend'.  I find these amusing as well as true to life (as I see it), and readily share them on social media.  

But what's my own experience, now I'm no longer a cat-owner?  I quickly became aware that my next-door neighbour has two cats.  Even without the visual evidence, proof of feline proximity was an early discovery as I began to clear the vegetation from the garden before turning it into a 'low-maintenance courtyard'.  While I was still collecting redundant vegetation, the green bin was a convenient disposal route but sadly, once the granite chips had been installed, the arrival of excrement continued.

One day in a fit of rage I gathered the unwanted offering and flung it over the fence, returning it whence it came.  It was followed at the earliest opportunity by an apology and, in the ensuing conversation, I learned that after seventeen years of utilising this convenience the culprit was unlikely to change his habits, despite the existence of adequate and well-attended indoor facilities.  We agreed a mutually acceptable disposal procedure - a more civilised 'over-the-fence' method - and so the status quo continues.

Probably due in great measure to this situation, I feel no affection for this hairy black quadruped.  Often as I sit by my window, I find myself under the gaze of two green eyes observing my every action and giving me the feeling that my negative emotions are reciprocated in full.

Beyond two fences, the neighbour whose house is in the next street has two dogs.  They, too, follow the cartoonist's stereotypes and are quite content to adorn their owner's yard,  They're also vocal, unlike my black sentry-on-the-fence with his cold and silent stare and, if I should venture outside, they lose no opportunity to announce my emergence to the whole neighbourhood, to their owner's annoyed embarrassment.

If nothing else, my experience has made me glad that my tenancy has a 'no pets' clause, reinforcing my own preference for solitude and protecting me against any lapse in this resolve.