Territory purr-suit

To You Black Cat, Who Took Residency On My Shed Roof

Don’t tell me you didn’t get the memo…

This cat looks as awake as the one sunbathing on my shed roof. Photo by David Bartus

I’ve watched you for weeks as you weightlessly jump up the fence and frolic over to the shed roof, with an air of entitlement, like you own the six square meter tarred surface without paying a penny for rent.

I saw you the other day when you spent hours and hours laying lazily in the sun, oblivious to the fact, that you trespassed my property. You were too engrossed in grooming your satin-like, gleaming coat to notice my eyes on you while standing in the window.

Once you finished you started it all over again, like one layer of saliva did not clean off the dirt to your satisfaction.

What a purr-fectionist.

I admire you and your exquisitely black, feline pelage, so hanging out on the shed roof is something I give you permission for.

But since your happy place happens to be located on the property ground I possess, be aware that I am the one who lays down the rules.

For one, the pigeons are off-limits. Please respect this. Many a generation has lived in that Chinese Thuja by the fence.

I nurtured their fledglings for months, and a special bond has developed between us. Ok, maybe I did not tend them directly, but fed their parents profusely, so they would enjoy perfect health and dutifully look after their offspring.

Forgive me for screeching at you this morning; my intention was only to distract you. I got a fright, when I spotted you in the grass, assuming your signature haunting pose, ready to launch at the innocent birds — or at least one of them.

I understand that my voice hit a particularly high frequency — even by my standards — that’s how much I care about my feathery friends.

Talking about friends, I’d like to bring your attention to other creatures in this garden. Please note, they’re also off the table, when it comes to your daily protein intake.

Let’s face it. You don’t need more food.

Your belly is well-rounded, and taking innocent lives for a kick is not only unethical but downright outrageous, too.

I’m a great advocate of peaceful living and equality, so please take this opportunity to adopt the same attitude when entering my garden.

The tiny mouse that lives in the shed?

The one that spends the day gathering seeds I scatter every morning for the pigeons?

It’s a friend.

Do not play with it. He’s already scared of the densely populated red kites, that seem to circle in the sky relentlessly.

He’s a diligent, little rodent. I’m rather fond of it, as long as it sticks to the shed for shelter and does not move into my house to start a family. In which case I’ll be happy to revisit this section.

But for now, it’s a no-no.

The same rule applies to Leslie, a robin who visits me as soon as spring comes. Last year, he helped me mow the grass, or so he thought while skipping around my leg. It took twice as long to trim my lawn, as to avoid his slender legs, but this is the kind of sacrifice one must be willing to make to become a robin’s friend.

He likes to rest on the fence and peek inside the house as a gentle reminder when I’m late to serve the pigeons’ breakfast. So, if you catch him lounging, hopping through the grass, or even eyeing the pigeons from afar, be warned — I’m on my way.

Lastly, I’d like to mention the squirrel couple Pippa and Fidget. Mind you, I just named them the other day. I never know which is which, but that’s not the point here. The point is that they like my Thuja and whatever the foliage provides them, even if the only thing I can think of is the thorny brambles entangled amongst the branches.

But what do I know? I’m not a squirrel.

I don’t study my findings like Fidget, with great care.

Good luck catching them anyway, nimble creatures as they are.

Considering the size of your extensive stomach, they might just challenge your agility as a domestic cat. No, I’m not judging your skills; and this isn’t purely a personal opinion. It’s a statement of fact.

So, my friend, these are the rules in a nutshell. Nothing extraordinary or difficult to adhere to. But don’t hesitate to let me know if any of the above points require further clarification.

Please feel free to sunbathe on the shed roof, and enjoy the benefits of absorbing vitamin D, but stay away from my garden crew.

They’re friends, not up for grabs.

And if any harm comes to them? I’ll take no responsibility for my actions.

Don’t tell me you didn’t get the memo.