Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales
Chris solves the mystery of the omnipresent big black cat…
One of the lines I hear most often when filling out my checklist on a new cat-sitting client’s preferences and their cat’s unreasonable demands, is the following sentence: “We’re having problems with a big black cat.”
The big black cat they complain of is never their own, and rarely do they have any idea where the cat comes from. The next sentence is almost always identical too: “He comes through the catflap at night, terrorises * insertSuki, FluffyorTommy*, and eats all their food.”
It’s always the same story, whether it’s one end of my 15-mile cat-sitting radius or the other, it’s always a night time raid on the food bowls, it always scares the hackles off resident felines… and it’s always a big black cat.
So, who is this shadowy beast conducting a one-cat aggravated burglary crimewave? Obviously Bodmin springs to mind, my own gnarled warrior-cat, but we know it can’t possibly be one cat doing all this, don’t we?
So is it an organised gang of furry feline felons, a cat-burglar ring, all appearing suitably attired in black jumpsuits and black balaclavas?
No – it’s actually just a poor, desperate bunch of strays, I fear. But why do so many of them fit the exact same description – large and completely black? Isn’t that just a little strange?
Unfortunately, if you scrape below the surface a little, the answer is staring you right in the face (sounding like Jonathan Creek here – I miss Jonathan Creek). Black cats have a problem, in that they are the least adopted cats in the UK. Through no fault of their own, people tend to choose stripy ones, speckled ones and multi-coloured tortoiseshells. Consequently, black cats account for a massively disproportionate number of Britain’s strays, so the fact that so many of these night-time raiders look so similar isn’t a mystery at all.
The old adage that black cats are unlucky is actually all too true – if not in the way the superstition suggests.
I have a confession to make, though. As I sat here at my desk, writing this column, I felt a strange tickle on my leg. Panicked that one of Bodmin’s prized collection of cat-fleas was attacking me, I took a blind swipe under the desk… consequently smacking Bodmin straight round the ears. His fur’s very tickly. See, unlucky. He accepted my apologies and he’s now eating cat-treats though, so all’s well.
One last thing re: the whole folklore side of black cats supposedly bringing bad luck – this superstition seems to depend entirely on where you come from or your own family traditions, because lots of people say they’re supposed to be lucky, not the opposite. My own considered opinion is, and as I’ve always maintained, one thing’s for certain – if you’re walking down a dark road, late at night, the wind howling through the trees, and a black cat appears from the bushes and walks straight across your path… chances are he’s going somewhere.
Is it an organised gang of furry feline felons in balaclavas?
www.myweekly.co.uk