ULOG #8 - Why I would never look at cats the same way ever again.

source

It was one bright Monday morning and I was all ready to leave but was looking for chores to do to pass the time while waiting for lunch to be cooked so that I could eat before I leave. I helped my mother hang newly laundered clothes to dry while I sang along to the upbeat music blasting from my phone. Between the beats though, a high pitched chirp kept distracting me for it sounded as though it was coming from somewhere very near me. So I asked my mother, "Ma, Where do you think all that chirping is coming from? That loud, high-pitched one?" "I think its coming from the top of the coconut tree, somewhere above you." I did not believe that of course, and told her that I was pretty sure that the sound is not coming from above but somewhere with us, under the backyard roof. She told be that I am terribly wrong surely because I have earphones stuck in my ears all the time.

I just laughed the tease off and continued hanging clothes, but I was determined to find where our mysterious chirper was. When I finished hanging all the clothes in my basket, I turned to get a new batch of clothes from the dryer while deliberately bowing my head and sensing where the chirping gets louder. I was following a path towards the sink (yes, we have a sink outside) and then the chirping stopped. I crouched low, searching and straining to hear but the chirping just stopped. My mother teased me again by saying that I was just mishearing where the chirping was, and that there's no way, a bird could be hiding there. I was about to stand then, but when I turned my head, I exclaimed, "Then what's this?"

Source

Between the pipe, the wall, and a pile of dirty socks, was a young Eurasian Tree Sparrow. It was young in a sense that, it wasn't wet and skinny as if it had just broken out of the egg, more like a young sparrow just starting to learn how to fly. Its feathers were so satisfyingly aligned and shiny, its eyes round and clear. We tried taunting it to come into a small basket so that we could take it up higher the mango tree or somewhere its parents can see it, but it started to escape out onto the ground where it jumped and jumped around (see, it was just starting to learn how to fly). I started to come towards it, but my mother stopped me, afraid that we might inflict some damage to the wings. Instead, she encouraged the bird by saying, "Yes, just jump around there, until you get it."

Though our yard is clear and wide, and we can actually guard the bird this whole time, letting the bird just jump around there with the dog and the chickens was such a bad idea to me. I immediately retorted, "But won't the cats come and kill it?". Before my mother had a chance to think of a reply though, and as the bird took its sixth struggling jump, a large white and orange spotted cat ran in front of us, took the bird in its mouth, then ran back the way it came from. It was all so fast, he looked like a blur.

Oh! I was so furious! I came looking for the cat but do my despair, I couldn't. I wanted so badly to give that cat a piece of my mind, and probably a scar to remember me by. How horrible! one moment, the young bird was there, chirping and jumping about, then it was gone! I was so angry and helplessly mad, I didn't know what to do with myself. Sure, there were a lot of birds around, because our yard is filled with old fruit trees, but ever since I was young, we have always saved and aided fallen young birds and freed them healthy. It was the first time I have failed to help a young Sparrow.

The rage that filled me was incomparable. What made the crime worse was my knowledge that domesticated cats, never eat or sometimes, doesn't even kill the animals (such as rodents and avian species) that they catch (but since that small bird was still fragile, I bet it was dead there and then). Feral cats and both indoor and outdoor domesticated cats have retained their hunting instincts as an adaptation to their once carnivorous lifestyle but female cats, especially spayed female cats have the tendency to bring home dead or injured animals from their hunts. This is because in the wild, they teach their offsprings how to hunt and kill the game but as domesticated cats, they usually don't have offsprings to show this motherly instinct. The game, dead or alive, are therefore brought back to the home of the cat owners who are now considered by the cat as her surrogate family. If you want a reference on that:

The sad thing is that the bottle-tailed cat that took the sparrow is a male cat, named Jacob, owned by our neighbor (who also once took one live, and one fried fish from our yard table while we were preparing for an event a few months back) (I just now realized this sentence is ambiguous haha). So I will never look at cats the same way again. They may be cute at times, but they just made my blood curd after that incident. They are just murderous and dumb and wont even make eye contact with you. Your eyes just lock for a second then they narrow in their eyes like you're in so much trouble for entering their psychic personal space, then nonchalantly look away. They even scientifically mimic snakes by hissing, showing their teeth and pulling back their ears to scare off probable predators.

No wonder they are always paired up with witches and evil villains in stories like in the Harry Potter series, caretaker Filch's cat, Mrs Norris.

Or Gargamel and Azarel in the Smurfs

Or in Autin Powers, Dr. Evil and Mr. Bigglesworth

I hate cats.
-joules

#unlisteemersph
#steemitpowerupph