h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

But that is what being a predator is all about.

But predators are cleverer than prey species, so they make better companions.

Their predatory hospitality, always willing to share any surplus from their hunting, is a trait they share with foxes, canids and many other predatory animals.

Its the thought that counts!

They're both very thoughtful believe me!

Ask Elektra about the trail of feathers that went from our roof in Athens...down the stairs, under the bed... and

Or my parents...'Honey, the cat left a dead, disemboweled mouse on the walk.'

My dad: 'I guess she didn't want it any more.'

My mom eyerolling at me...

A desert rain storm, flushing the local kangaroo rats out of their burrows, the cats, a litter of four, three robust and motley males and a petite female tabby, all full grown, having a field day dashing out into the rain to catch a (mouse sized) kangaroo rat, bringing it back inside, the front door open for the fresh air, devouring their rodent, everything but the colon, and dashing out again for another one.

(Total, at least 5 each and maybe as many as 7 or 8 each.)

After a while I got tired of picking up the discarded colons off the kitchen floor, approached the female on one of her forays indoors, picked up her deceased kangaroo rat by the scruff of its neck, addressed her, saying, "You're entitled to your small rodents, but please keep the action on the front porch." (which was sheltered from the rain).

She followed quietly along as I walked toward the front porch, calmly snagged the rodent with her claws as we crossed the threshold, taking it from my hand (didn't touch me), stepping ahead of me as she did so on to the porch and from then on kept the action on the front porch, she and the other cats only coming indoors to dry themselves and groom occasionally over the remainder of the event.

I'd repeatedly seen that small female shatter glass vessels up to a quarter inch thick with a casual paw-pat, the vibrating paw, capable of doing some serious damage if she wanted to.

I called that one Princess.




Another cat of a much later generation of the same feral troop, a maned, Russian blue tom, did something else surprising.

One night, I saw him rummaging through the waste baskets (3) on the front porch.

He'd turn them over, look underneath, rake the contents out, look them over, then, much to my amazement, raked the contents back into the waste basket and stood it back up again.

I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it.

I called that particular male Dust-mop.

It was amusing, cold winter nights, watching the short haired members of the clutch (not necessarily of the same litter) curling up around him to take advantage of his shaggy coat, basically using him for a blanket.




The cats in that particular clutch did something similar with 6 to 8 inch rocks in the rock garden, turning them over for a look underneath, then rolling them back again, unless interrupted at the task, critical wilderness survival behavior for feral cats in this desert environment, the Coachella Valley, about 50 miles (80 km) east of Palm Springs.