Inkie is sulking because his humans took away his bird. Photo: Ellen Whyte
It was just before dawn, and I was on the phone to a dear friend in Cambodia, sorting out the problems of the world, when there was a frightened shriek. Recognising trouble, I ran upstairs to find Inkie with a mouth full of bird.
Seeing me, our tuxie boy's yellow eyes narrowed. I've taken a catch off him before, and this time, the glare signalled, he was not letting go.
As he is just 18 months old, and I have years of wickedness in me, I don't play fair. I picked him up, walked him to the open bathroom window and blew in his ear.
Utterly shocked, Inkie let go. The bird fluttered into the air, righted itself, and flashed off, yellow belly shimmering with relief and terror.
Inkie was spitting mad. When I put him down, he looked up at me and let rip. I speak a fair bit of Cat, and I know he was calling me a dog, among other things.
I apologised, although we both knew my heart wasn't in it, and went back to my call.
Two minutes later, the birds outside screamed emergency calls and exploded out of the tree. Looking out, I saw Inkie on the little roof.
At first I didn't believe my eyes. The cats have the run of the main roof, but it's three storeys up. As the little roof runs down several metres below, there is no way they can get there. It's a dead drop. The kind that breaks bones.
But there was Inkie, bum wiggling as he calculated the trajectory from the little roof to the tree. It was well over a metre, and at a weird angle. An impossible leap if you're human. But Inkie is not human. As I watched in horror, he leapt.
He soared in the air and landed with all his claws out, adhering sleekly to a branch. Then, eyes fixed firmly on the birds that flew round and round, he swiftly panthered along.
While Tom went to get the ladder, I put down the phone once again and rushed out, determined to prevent my pet from falling, getting lost or otherwise hurting himself. He's an indoor boy, not used to fending for himself outside, so I was terrified for him.
Well, I might have saved my breath. Our super naughty boy ran up one branch and down another with all the grace and professionalism of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat.
As I stood on the ground, gazing up anxiously, Inkie figured the birds were too savvy to come near him. Running back along the tree, he soared into the air once more, landed on the little roof and vanished.
Craning my neck, I couldn't figure out where he'd gone. Stepping back, I checked the neighbour's carport. It was empty.
Thankfully, Inkie had taken another leap, jumping a full metre and more up and into the bathroom window.
While Tom and I ran around like headless chickens, naughty Inkie was in the kitchen, enjoying a second breakfast of biscuits.
Honestly, I didn't know whether to laugh or scold. So, I picked him up and kissed him.
He was still annoyed but he headbutted me back. Reluctantly. And scolded me with loud insistent meows. From his annoyed tones, he too was struggling between love and annoyance.Later, after finishing the call, we met upstairs and conducted a post-mortem. Our bathroom window is narrow and high up. We couldn’t figure out how Inkie had gotten out.
The mystery was soon solved: Inkie couldn’t jump from the ground to the windowsill. He’d never bothered before, but with the bird going out the window, he’d put his brain to work.
I made it easy for him by flipping down the toilet seat cover during the rescue operation. I did it in case the bird flew back and down, diving into the bowl, because birds can be daft that way.
Inkie is clearly far from daft. He worked out he could reach the window by jumping onto the seat.
Having done it once, our brainy boy knew he can jump from the floor to the toilet tank, or the bathroom sink, and jump again to teeter on the window ledge. From there, it's an easy drop to the little roof.
He enjoyed his adventure in the tree, because while I was checking for paw prints on the toilet tank, he came in, fuelled with biscuits, and immediately attempted a rerun. Leaping up onto the tank, bottom wriggling with intent as he did the calculus, he was ready to fly.
I sabotaged him by shutting the bathroom window.
Ever since, the window has stayed shut. It means it's super steamy when we shower, but it's better than having our naughty tuxie running around outside. Inkie's not street smart. Also, there is a giant python on the loose.
After complaining loudly about my interference, Inkie kept an eye on the bathroom, prowling about and checking the perimeter several times a day, just in case I slip up.
Thankfully, he's not too upset. I bribed him with a massive plate of treats, and to top it off, the other two cats are making a huge fuss of him.
Target acts cool because he's senior cat, so it's just a lick on the ear and the quiet assumption that they are two pawsome man-cats together. But Tic Tac is going all out. She dances around Inkie with excited chirps, kissing his ears, rubbing her whiskers against his face, and flattering him shamelessly.
Inkie is lapping up the treat and adulation with sweet contentment. But if I get the look in those yellow eyes right, he won't be letting me near his catch next time.
Inkie, our indoor house cat, is determined to embark on a career as a big wild hunter.
Adopt Me
Toffee is almost nine months old, neutered, vaccinated and flea-free. This handsome boy loves people, is curious as a cat should be, and is also an active boy.Interested adopters, please contact SPCA Penang, Jalan Jeti Jelutong, 11600 Jelutong, Penang (phone: 04-281 6559/ website spca-penang.net).
Photo: Lily Leng/SPCA Penang
