Cat and mouse games

Our house has made a transition from being vermin infested to cat infested. Being adjacent to a park, it had once abounded in rats. Things g...

Our house has made a transition from being vermin infested to cat infested. Being adjacent to a park, it had once abounded in rats. Things got to such a stage that my parents would take particular delight in catching them. Each time a rat was caught, my mother would give an Archimedian cry of delight. Her “Eureka!’ would have my father rushing towards the mousetrap to catch sight of the captured villain. How they both plotted by following the rat’s path and strategising the placement of the mousetrap at the right spot! With some cooperation from the Almighty, the rodent problem was solved without Pied Piper being summoned.

Suddenly cats made their appearance on the scene. Cats of varied hues and colours began marching up and down our courtyard acting as sentinels. One cat — resembling a lion with its gleaming golden mane — came to be christened ‘King of our humble abode’. Another was named ‘Cheetah’ because of its agility and adeptness in climbing our boundary wall.

All of a sudden, rats became an endangered species. Mom and Dad could not have been happier. As the cat population increased, it brought with it certain attendant problems. One could not leave the main door open for a second because with the rat population becoming scarce, the cats began trespassing our private domain searching for food.

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One particular night we were awaken up by a sudden din. On further investigation, it was found that one feline animal had been locked inside for the night and it certainly making its presence felt.

Our milkman too had to be on double guard. Often when he went to distribute the milk packets, he would return to find a cat feasting on his milk. We could not leave the garbage bag outside for the sweeper to collect it as the cats would rummage through it and create a mess.

The cats felt so much at home that they would sit and bask in the sun on the cane chairs lying in the courtyard. Our boundary wall came to bear the imprint of their footprints.

One day we were surprised to find four kittens playing and gamboling in our garden. My nephew became particularly fond of them. However, my parents underwent an attitudinal change towards cats when the kittens trampled the newly sprouted seedlings of Chrysanthemum and Dogflower that my father had painstakingly planted for the winter. His hobby of gardening came to face a crisis. There were a dozen Macavitys around and each

of them happened to be a “Napoleon of crime”.

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That was when my parents began strategising all over again. But this time it was that old chestnut: who will bell the cat?