Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales

Competition is fierce for feline customers – but Chris is one step ahead

If I were to say to you that cat sitting can be quite cut-throat you’d probably laugh, wouldn’t you (and please don’t laugh when reading my column – that’s NOT what it’s intended for at all).

But, in the past, I’ve had a few unsavoury incidents involving other cat sitters – and, yes, there are others. I’m not the only one whose career high points involve finding things in litter trays.

These incidents range from rivals’ attempts to poach customers to out-andout premeditated sabotage.

The aforementioned poaching of customers had elements of a James Bond movie about it, as a lot of cat sitting does… well, only if you’re cat sitting for Blofeld, I suppose.

I first suspected something was up when, leaving my first two cat visits of the day, I noticed the same occupied van parked outside. By the time I left my third visit and saw the van parked outside again, I knew foul play was afoot… especially when it followed me to my fourth visit too.

Now, you might think I should have been unnerved by this; somebody following my car with possibly nefarious intent? No, we international super-spies don’t worry about little things like that… but only because the van in question had CAT SITTINGSERVICES emblazoned all over it and so I’d pretty much ascertained that he wasn’t a KGB agent (sharp, I am).

Halfway to visit five, in true 007 fashion, I tried to lose him with some cleverly executed sudden lane changes and misleading indications at roundabouts. To give my cat sitting rival credit, he waited very patiently while a police officer cautioned me for erratic driving. Maybe, as an observant secret agent, I should have noticed the Thames Valley Police car directly behind my pursuer, but there you go. So we eventually both trundled up to my last visit of the day.

The following day, I visited all five houses again, because cats like feeding every day and not just occasionally, scooping up the CatSittingServices flyers on every doormat and carefully recycling them. It appears I’d underestimated my rival. He and I were actually very alike – he’d thought things out absolutely terribly.

So, onto sabotage. I was – unknowingly – booked by a new client who had recently warned their existing cat sitter about some odd behaviour and were trying out somebody new (me).

On my last visit, I stroked Benny the Ball (the resident feline) and headed off, happy in the knowledge the house was as neat and tidy as I’d found it.

Overnight, I was sabotaged. How do you sabotage a cat sitter? Plant dynamite in the litter tray? That’d make for a very messy ceiling but no, the ex-sitter crept in after I left, armed with a bag of used cat litter, and spread it just about everywhere – also emptying food sachets on the carpet, hoping their new cat sitting rival would get the blame.

For once, I’ve never been happier about discreetly placed security cameras!

A lot of cat sitting has elements of a James Bond movie about it

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