Inkie has a strong hunting instinct. Photos: Ellen Whyte
Inkie ran down the stairs, growling impressively. I was on my feet in an instant; this was trouble. Yes, two small terrified eyes and a teeny tiny cheep. Our cat had caught a bird.
Inkie was born inside and has never put a paw on the street. However, the roof is his territory. He prowls there every day, acting out his panther kitty fantasies.
About a month ago, he caught a bird. As he ran in with a smug growl of triumph, I scooped him up as he scooted past me.
He was so proud of himself that he meowed. Freed from the feline jaws, the bird flew up – straight at Tic Tac.
To her eternal shame and chagrin, Tic Tac ducked instinctively. Her roll and recover would have earned gold in the Olympic gymnastics event but she was too late.
The bird flipped over her head, banked a swift right into the bathroom and exited through the window.
When I released Inkie, he gave me a filthy look before bounding after his prey. It was all form, he knew it was hopeless, but he and Tic Tac policed that window like two furry sharks.
I thought it was a one off, but the next day Inkie killed a bird and dumped the body at my feet. One bird is lucky. Two mean there's a problem.
We have one of the very few trees left in our street. It's filled with dozens of birds, feasting on berries and building their nests in comfort.
Inspecting it carefully, I spotted some branches overhanging the roof. And as I was looking up, our naughty Inkie was lying in the gutter, ears peeking over the edge, keeping out a beady eye for birds.
So, I called our mate Abdul. He rocked up an hour later on his bicycle, parang at the ready. After exchanging waves with Tic Tac, he trimmed back our tree.
Inkie was not happy. As for Tic Tac, she scolded Abdul and then turned her back on him.
I thought it would fix it, but our birds are daft. They fluttered over the naked roof tiles with complete abandon.
So, a day later, when Inkie ran downstairs growling again, my heart sank. Seeing the pitiful eyes and scared shivery feathers, I scooped Inkie up and took him straight outside.
Honestly, I hoped that being in a new space would scare him. But Inkie knew very well that I won't ever let anything happen to him.
The naughty boy blinked yellow eyes at me in insolent confidence. Then, to push the message home, he brought up both front paws and stuffed his captive even further into his mouth.
Inkie thought he was winning but I have a tough streak too. Push me and I shove back.
I inserted a finger at the back of his mouth and blew in his ear. The combination of gag reflex and tickly ear fur worked. Inkie coughed out the bird.
The bird sat in the writer's hand, too shocked to move.
In the split second, while cat and bird were stunned, I swept up the bird with one hand and Inkie with the other. He weighs a tonne and he wriggled in fury but I cat-handled him back in the house.
His prey was a little dove. It had lost some feathers, but as I checked her over carefully, there was no blood. Also no scratches or scrapes.
Seeing she was in shock, I put her in the bushes on top of our postbox and left her to recover. Then I went back inside and faced the music.
Inkie was furious. Tic Tac hovered by his side, giving him supporting kisses, and Target offered manly condolences, but even a treat didn't melt his heart. All I got was stink-eye.
The writer set the dove in the bushes so she could recover in peace and safety.
It took him over an hour to get himself together and forgive me. But the very next day, he caught another one!
I was texting a friend when I heard the telltale growl. As I ran up the stairs, I found Inkie and Tic Tac by my desk. I pushed them aside, lay flat on the floor and spotted a bunch of shivering tail feathers. A tiny bird was head down in a dark corner, pretending to be invisible.
Inkie chattered with excitement and Tic Tac meowed, both establishing that this was their bird and I had no right to it.
I ignored them both. Reaching in carefully, I picked her up. The furry sharks complained loudly as I walked their victim out, and their shrieks of outrage followed us as I shut the door on them.
The bird was grey and brown with a long beak. A seed eater. Thankfully, there was no blood and no grazing. No drool, even.
When I put my thumb under her feet, she gripped it. But when I opened my hand, she just sat there. At this point I realised I still had my phone. I took a (blurry) photo, thinking she'd fly, but she didn't move.
As we stared at each other, Inkie was at the window, yelling insults. Tic Tac had run upstairs and was on the roof, meowing down at us.
"You should go," I told her. "And for goodness' sake, tell the others to stay in the tree and away from the roof!" I carefully moved my hand and she opened her wings instinctively. Then, finally realising she was sitting on a dreaded human, she flew off.
That was five days ago. Inkie continues to prowl the roof covertly. But Tic Tac is out there too, a streak of very visible white fur on black tiles.
Our tree is full of twittering birds, but we've had no more victims. I did spot a roughed up looking dove on the gate the other day, and I like to think she was looking grateful.
But mostly, I hope the message has finally sunk in and that Inkie's daft birds have finally declared our roof a no-fly zone.
Dorami is the sweetest little lady. This adorable one-year-old kitty is spayed, vaccinated, and in tip-top shape. She's a real sweetie who just loves curling up for a good cuddle.
Photo: Serene Yiwah
