Of cats and men

A quiet start to the weekend. The rest of the household was away so it was just me and Kitty* in the house. It was all in all rather relaxing.

Kitty has gradually got comfortable with me nowadays. In the beginning she would just hide under the sofa but gradually she’s become accustomed to me and now complains noisily if she doesn’t get five minutes of magic fingers backrubs once a day.

I say she, but actually Kitty’s a bloke cat, albeit missing the requisite nadgers. His owner/slave, for we are all slaves to cats, E thought he was a bitch (in the biological sense of the word) at first and was a little put out to discover he was a tom so had him fixed and raised him as a female cat.

This makes Kitty a tad gender confused, and pisses off her vet a lot when E refers to Kitty with the feminine pronoun. Still and all she’s a lovely cat, with beautiful tiger stripe markings and an intelligent temperament.

I’ve said it before but dogs are dumb and loyal while cats are smart but independent. I’m convinced there’s an evolutionary argument for this. Early on in the domestication cycle mankind started hunting cooperatively with dogs so loyalty became a key survival trait and keeping them fed was a priority.

But cats became (semi) domesticated simply because they were easy to tolerate and kill vermin. You didn’t train them, they hung around because houses were largely warm and dry and vermin flocked to them. It wasn’t until a few hundred years ago that people even considered cat food – that was what mice and rats were for.

In my youth I spend the odd winter week or two on a friend’s farm helping out. P’s farm, or rather smallholding, showed this difference very well. The dogs slept in the house and were devoted to, and dependant on, the family - with the exception of their golden retriever who would pop down to the pub every evening because the landlord took a shine to her and put out some beer in a bowl each night.

The cats by contrast lived in the barn and were semi-feral. We had to collect the hen’s eggs as soon as possible in the morning otherwise they’d crack and eat them. Try and pick one up and you’d be straight down to casualty to get your fingers stitched together.

Kitty retains her feral heritage but is trainable. She’s noted that any claw swipe brings about a 24 hour cessation of stroking privileges. Now all I need to do is train her to get on the sofa rather than skulking around my feet.

But there’s always the feeling that if someone invented the paw operated tin opener mankind would lose the cat completely and supermarkets would suffer catlifting rates that would make today’s losses to humans look like a golden age.

But they are seductive little devils, who get under our skin. XKCD has it right on this.

* Photo caption - "Make sure you get my best side."

Dog Days

This weekend was full of of dogs, with a bit of motor racing thrown in for good measure. On Saturday I went round to see my oldest friend and his wife for a farewell dinner. I've known V since he was a spotty first year in halls of residence at university, but a lot of beer has passed under the bridge since then.

He's a big swinging dick (BSD) in the City now but thankfully hasn't become one of those irritating ones you see in bars trumpeting their imaginary self-importance. Mind you, he has had a bit of an ethics bypass, but that's the world of finance for you. His wife R is Spanish and a sweetheart - not least because she makes strong gin and tonics by the pint glass, which is a fast way to my heart.

They breed dogs in their space time so spent most of the night trying to satisfy five small balls of fur with treats and ear rubs. I'm not a huge fan of small fluffy dogs but in their case I'll make an exception. Add into that an excellent meal and fine wines and it was an evening to remember. V is the one person I never take wine for when invited round for dinner - he's a wine buff with a stunningly good cellar and anything I'd buy would have invited good natured ridicule.

Sunday saw me round to R&B’s for Grand Prix day, Monaco this time round and Monaco in the rain, which always makes for an interesting race. Hamilton drove a very skilled, and very lucky, session to clinch the winner’s podium. But the tragedy of the race came near the end. Adrian Sutil from Force India drove a cracking race and was up to fourth when Raikkonen lost it and slammed into the back of him, taking him out. I understand he was in tears later and I’m not surprised – that crash cost his team millions and him the best finish of his career. But he drove a really mature race and I’m sure he’ll be back.

R&B have two dogs, Charlie and Toffee, and it’s always nice to see those two. Charlie’s the Alpha dog and won’t stop barking when you come into the house until he gets the chest rub he sees as his due. Toffee’s a lap dog and likes nothing better then squirming onto you and trying to lick your face. I'll miss them nearly as much as R&B and their two lovely kids - sorry G&S, young adults.

People often say you’re either a dog or cat person. This is rubbish; it’s perfectly possible to be both. Dogs are easy to understand, very affectionate and will put up with a lot, but they are kind of dumb. Cats are beautiful, smart, mostly standoffish and occasionally nasty bastards to small rodents, but you let them get away with it because of the upsides. Few things compare to a happy cat purring away beside you. The ideal house is one with both, so long as they get along.