The Rule of Unintended Cataquences by Bob Freeman

The two cats spoke as cats do, ears twitching, signaling, plotting, slowly inching forward one muscle at a time. This was no time for meows, purrs, or broken twigs. Something interesting jiggled in the deep grass, and they needed to get closer.

Tabby and Calico, feline buddies, talk using the universal language, Catlish. Right ear twitches and left ear acknowledges, as they circle the exciting phenomena.

These two well-fed felines enjoyed the hunt, the fight to the death, and the smell of their quarry. Killing was an option, something they enjoyed but didn’t need. Prey, alive or dead, became gifts to their host, keeper of the can opener. The body count was a gift, one often left unappreciated and mangled.

The last ray of sunlight pierced through the leaves, highlighting the bird’s colors, rapidly fading as the cats displayed their latest catch.

The elderly woman looked over her extensive garden, the soft late summer light warming her tired bones. Music drifted through the open window, an old Chopin tune, its familiar notes drowning out the constant din of the nearby roadway.

She sighed, not with antipathy but sadness, as she admonished her cats, “Please don’t kill any more birds. Don’t I feed you enough? Do you want something different? Why are you like this?”

Tabby and Calico heard the words and filtered out the unimportant ones, slowly flipping their tails in time to the keywords; kill, feed, like.

“I’m going to take you to the vet tomorrow. They should know what to do!”

Vet. That keyword stopped the tails dead in their tracks.

“Never mind that, it’s dinner time. Come on inside.”

Dinner.

“And leave the dead bird where it is. I’ll bury it tomorrow.”

The pair looked at each other and spoke in catlish with head nods, ear and tail flicks. No new good words to find here. Dinner was the last important one.

Day turned to night, and after dinner, to television, computers, and sleeping cats. One cat was on her lap, the other carefully watching the computer, ready to intervene to protect their host and food supply.

The host had no close relatives, and was retired from a long career in a Public Health Lab. This night, email was sparse and boring. Stocks and bonds were her forte, and she kept amassing more useful chits by avoiding the obvious scams and falsehoods. Her skills, concentrating on good solid investments, grew a strong portfolio over her long life.

It was late as she shut down the computer and stroked Calico’s head, “No need to worry, I’m investing for your future.”

No interesting key words, but not unpleasant, Calico nodded and went to sleep.

The cats’ daily routine of stalk, catch, kill started on the wrong paw as they were enticed into their carriers and schlepped to the vet.

The kill crew was on their best behavior as the vet finished her examination and said, “These two are fine specimens. You must be feeding them well.”

“And still, they attack anything that moves. Look, Doctor, there must be some way to stop this senseless killing?”

“It isn’t senseless for the cats. It’s right up their alley. You can’t change their nature. Your cats love killing, and these two seem good at it. Unsurprisingly we found antibodies for Toxoplasma gondii in these two. It isn’t unusual, they are bound to be infected with that parasite if they eat wild meat.”

The vet continued with her infection inquiry, “Do you want us to test your blood too? This particular parasite is passed in their waste stream and can infect humans as easily as cats.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. I always wear gloves and a mask when I dump their litter.”

“Fine, as long as you’re careful. We don’t want you to start hoarding cats.”

The  woman smiled. She knew enough parasitology to scare a Vet and changed the subject to something more interesting, asking, “Isn’t there anything you can do to protect the birds?”

“Sorry. Spaying and neutering are the only options we have, but that only tones down their aggression. There are too many feral cats out there and the clinics don’t have the funds to make much of a dent.”

The woman went back home and released her brood from confinement. They returned the favor, gathering a few more gifts from the abundant cat garden.

Tabby and Calico sung their songs of entrance and their host looked over the offering and sighed. There was nothing much more to do but feed the beasts before returning to her computer and television.

Tabby took his spot on the host’s lap as Calico carefully checked for dangerous pixels.

She got up for some tea as Calico took control of the screen, setting up a few opportune trades in her absence. It was late and the trading markets were soon closed. She would have time to reverse any damage from the inadvertent strikes in the morning. Another game of cat and mouse. And only fun for the cat.

“Don’t worry, we’re doing well, and I’ve provided for your care for as many days as you need.”

Calico listened for words which might be important, finding none, purred and accepted the head rubs.

Time passed as it does, and the human passed as well, quietly in the night. The cats were parceled out to other families before they would stop waiting for the next can of tuna offal and start in on their ex-host. The woman loved her four-legged killers and took care of them in her will. They continued their deadly habits until they too became old and feeble and joined her in the Great Litter Box in the Sky. In the meantime, she left a revolving fund to support cat spay and neuter clinics.

She carefully thought through the process and included a $100 bond for each animal neutered. She figured, correctly, that a cat’s owner might be interested in neutering their pets, but inertia made it virtually impossible to pack and drag the cat to the vet, so the bribe was a crucial part of the process.

Anyone needing a quick financial boost could catch a feral feline and haul them to the clinic. Often easier said than done, but humans were ingenious when easy money is involved.

Like reverse compound interest, the environmental cat load dropped, the bird population exploded, lizards expanded their holdings, small snakes and amphibian populations grew. Urban cats became rare and expensive. Farmers ignored the bounty, preferring cats over mice any day.

This was good for some.

Conversely, mice, rats, and cockroaches were free to roam and breed with fewer cats decimating their populations.

Foxes, weasels, owls, and hawks benefited but could never match the kill rates of felines.

We love our tiny dinosaur-bird friends. They manage our insect pests, make cute songs and are beautiful. Their lizard cousins have few of those traits but are wonderful in their own rights.

Without the pressure of feline bird murderers, unrestricted hot-blooded bird populations explode and pass viruses to their cooler human cousins. Pigeons may be flying rats but avian flu in migrating populations is nothing to sneeze at. Lizards are too few in number and too cold to share viruses with the birds but often have a few Salmonella species to make up for that absent trait.

Avian flu and salmonella aren’t the only worrisome bugs in the cat/bird/lizard/rodent balance.

We need a few felines to keep tiny mammals in check. Every bite of a rodent risks a flea bite in return, hence poison-plant collars are in vogue for pets. Not so much to stop the itching, scratching, and twitching but to remove a vector for plague. Poor little Yesenia pestis, it’s just trying to make a living, although their success often kills their hosts. Fleas prefer warm bodies to munch on, and humans are as good a meal as any if their tasty fur-covered cats and rats aren’t available. Humans don’t care much about dead rats, but humans and the Black Plague are not good matches.

Fewer cats are not a butterfly effect, which isn’t flappingly real, but every change leads to unexpected reactions. Like Newton’s Law, but much more complex than simply action/reaction. Entropy and movement yields unanticipated consequences.

Bob Freeman

Image by Christel SAGNIEZ from Pixabay – close up of cat’s eyes