Callie does her job
Jun 2, 2017 11:47:36 GMT -5
Post by Wes on Jun 2, 2017 11:47:36 GMT -5
Another column picked up from the paper:
In a recent column in the paper Jim Whitehouse was carrying on about the mole problem in his yard, and I am at best mildly sympathetic. My attitude is, and always has been, "Never do anything to encourage a lawn." Anyone who has read one of my rants about lawn mowing will understand where I'm coming from.
If I had a mole problem on my lawn, I wouldn't really care much about it. It turns out that I don't have one that I've noticed recently, since we have a number of semi-feral cats hanging around, and, like a couple of other neighbors, we put food out to encourage them to stay.
A number of years ago I had a real problem with chipmunks -- yes, those cute little rodents that burrow into things they shouldn't. Those furry critters managed to dig a hole in my basement wall, so that when it rained heavily I knew it from the gusher of water that used to pour through before I managed to plug it. For some reason the chipmunk problems went away when the cats started hanging around. A bowl of kibble now and then is well worth the price. I'm not sure who is paying who, but like many things a deal is best when both sides come out happy.
My wife and I like the feral cats even though they're a bit wary about people, and that may work out for the best, too. But then we are cat people, and while the cat population in the house is less than it was a year ago thanks to Amanda and Dan moving out, we still have a number of furry couch potatoes.
Back before Christmas my wife acquired Callie, a rather cute little calico cat who I have mentioned in this column before. For whatever reason, Callie doesn't get along well with most of the other cats, so just to reduce the feline tension level around the house in the evenings she goes down to the shop with me, where I can read and write and not be bothered by the television upstairs. She occasionally hops up on my lap for a pet and purr session, or to beg me for Cheerios, which seems to be her favorite treat. I'm usually glad for the feline contact.
Now, my shop has a garage door that doesn't seal too well, so I was aware I have mice down there. I always figured that it wasn't a major problem and when they got me irritated enough by running around in the ceiling I'd put out a box of mouse poison and that would be that for a while.
Callie taught me differently. I think the reason she likes going down to the shop with me is that she can catch mice. Once in a while she'll miss a night, but a couple of weeks ago she got eight in six days. Now, like many cats she likes to play with her mousies, except that hers are the real thing. Once they're dead she has no further interest in them, but it means that every night I have to walk through the place looking for dead mice laying on the floor so I can toss their bodies out in the weeds. That's a chore I don't mind!
It's not uncommon for me to be sitting and reading, minding my own business, when I'll hear the CRASH of something falling out in the main room. I know without looking that Callie is in hot pursuit of her quarry, and often enough I'll hear some proud mewling as she carries her latest victim into the office part of the shop to report, "I got another one, boss!" I tell her that she's a good cat and I'm proud of her, and I am. The mouse is usually still alive at that point, but won't be for much longer. Yes, she is a good cat for doing what cats are supposed to be doing.
We've given nicknames to all our cats over the years, sometimes a little on the rude side. Often we call our cats those nicknames rather than their real names. Callie managed to avoid a nickname for a while, until I came up with one that really fits her: Warfarin.
So, my advice to Jim about his moles is, get a cat. Not a cute little couch potato that has trouble getting off their furry butt, but a real outside cat that knows what a cat is supposed to be doing.
In a recent column in the paper Jim Whitehouse was carrying on about the mole problem in his yard, and I am at best mildly sympathetic. My attitude is, and always has been, "Never do anything to encourage a lawn." Anyone who has read one of my rants about lawn mowing will understand where I'm coming from.
If I had a mole problem on my lawn, I wouldn't really care much about it. It turns out that I don't have one that I've noticed recently, since we have a number of semi-feral cats hanging around, and, like a couple of other neighbors, we put food out to encourage them to stay.
A number of years ago I had a real problem with chipmunks -- yes, those cute little rodents that burrow into things they shouldn't. Those furry critters managed to dig a hole in my basement wall, so that when it rained heavily I knew it from the gusher of water that used to pour through before I managed to plug it. For some reason the chipmunk problems went away when the cats started hanging around. A bowl of kibble now and then is well worth the price. I'm not sure who is paying who, but like many things a deal is best when both sides come out happy.
My wife and I like the feral cats even though they're a bit wary about people, and that may work out for the best, too. But then we are cat people, and while the cat population in the house is less than it was a year ago thanks to Amanda and Dan moving out, we still have a number of furry couch potatoes.
Back before Christmas my wife acquired Callie, a rather cute little calico cat who I have mentioned in this column before. For whatever reason, Callie doesn't get along well with most of the other cats, so just to reduce the feline tension level around the house in the evenings she goes down to the shop with me, where I can read and write and not be bothered by the television upstairs. She occasionally hops up on my lap for a pet and purr session, or to beg me for Cheerios, which seems to be her favorite treat. I'm usually glad for the feline contact.
Now, my shop has a garage door that doesn't seal too well, so I was aware I have mice down there. I always figured that it wasn't a major problem and when they got me irritated enough by running around in the ceiling I'd put out a box of mouse poison and that would be that for a while.
Callie taught me differently. I think the reason she likes going down to the shop with me is that she can catch mice. Once in a while she'll miss a night, but a couple of weeks ago she got eight in six days. Now, like many cats she likes to play with her mousies, except that hers are the real thing. Once they're dead she has no further interest in them, but it means that every night I have to walk through the place looking for dead mice laying on the floor so I can toss their bodies out in the weeds. That's a chore I don't mind!
It's not uncommon for me to be sitting and reading, minding my own business, when I'll hear the CRASH of something falling out in the main room. I know without looking that Callie is in hot pursuit of her quarry, and often enough I'll hear some proud mewling as she carries her latest victim into the office part of the shop to report, "I got another one, boss!" I tell her that she's a good cat and I'm proud of her, and I am. The mouse is usually still alive at that point, but won't be for much longer. Yes, she is a good cat for doing what cats are supposed to be doing.
We've given nicknames to all our cats over the years, sometimes a little on the rude side. Often we call our cats those nicknames rather than their real names. Callie managed to avoid a nickname for a while, until I came up with one that really fits her: Warfarin.
So, my advice to Jim about his moles is, get a cat. Not a cute little couch potato that has trouble getting off their furry butt, but a real outside cat that knows what a cat is supposed to be doing.
