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  • Writer's pictureSully

Cats Protection League and RSPB to meet at dawn

It’s a feud which has simmered for almost a century. There have been isolated encounters in the past – a few drive-by spayings and a regrettable incident involving a clockwork mouse and some gelignite - but now the two organisations are going to war.

‘There’s no point us trying to stop bird species going extinct while they’re protecting cats’, a spokesman for the RSPB told us while applying camouflage paint. Mike (not his real name, it’s Samuel) works as a librarian in Colchester. ‘We had hoped to enlist the help of some dog people but they’re staying neutral. Bastards’.

Jenny has volunteered with the Cats Protection League for almost thirty years, and has no children. ‘It’s just “Cats Protection” now, she hissed. ‘We dropped the word ‘League’ twenty years ago. Why can’t you people get anything right?’ She seems miffed about something so I retreat carefully, scanning the floor for random furry friends. Jenny stands in the doorway watching as I stumble down the unkempt path and fumble with the car door. I can’t really explain why I feel nervous but then I look up and every wall has a cat sitting on it, staring directly at me.

‘Their feathered friends won’t help, you know’. Jenny looks smug, confident. ‘Bird people are weak’. A cat jumps down from the nearest wall and brushes past my leg, purring. Then another. I wrench open the door and a ginger tom leaps onto the roof of the car, hissing aggressively. As I drive away the battalion of cats nonchalantly passes in front of me, sauntering out of my path in a display of arrogant mastery of time and space, and I worry about Samuel, sorry, Mike, and his friends. There are going to be a lot of empty bird feeders tomorrow.

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