Adrian Barich: Keeping the neighbourhood peace, even if accusations against our elderly cat seem far-fetched

The Barich household has given in to peer group pressure and it feels like we are back in high school.

And sadly, it was a message that was delivered anonymously that guilt-tripped us into action.

So, to the unnamed neighbourhood/wildlife warrior, thank you for your strongly worded letter, left in our letterbox at 8pm (it said the time on the note) regarding our “ginger menace”, Tom.

“Ginger menace” . . . brilliant. The author of the note was clearly not a cat lover.

They may not be very observant either, as we were very surprised to learn from the note that that our 16-year-old tabby has apparently evolved into a mass bird assassin.

This is a particularly impressive achievement given he has arthritis, requires assistance to get up onto the kitchen bench, and spends most of his day choosing between three sleeping locations.

According to our vet, Tom is currently operating well below peak predator level, somewhere between “retired” and “ornamental”.

He has never brought home a dead bird. A few mice in his younger, more ambitious days, yes, but “terrorising wildlife en masse” feels like a late-career resurgence we somehow missed.

We are considering rebranding him as Genghis Cat, although based on his current mobility, “mildly annoying cat” may be more accurate.

That said, we are taking the community concerns seriously and trialling a bell collar, although there is some hesitation after witnessing a cat get itself into a rather unfortunate situation involving our picket fence.

We’re also having a tough time imagining a human wearing a ball the size of a golf ball dangling around our neck and ringing with every movement. And our hearing is not anywhere as sensitive a cat.

Keeping the cat inside at dawn and dusk was another helpful suggestion from the unnamed writer, who must also think we have poor eyesight as his or her handwriting was huge.

Still, if it helps restore peace to the neighbourhood, Tom may soon be the least stealthy predator in Subi. We have been told about a Cat Bib or BirdsBeSafe collar covers which I must say look hilarious but super trendy.

We would also gently point out there are at least two (possibly three) other orange tabbies in the area, all of whom may be enjoying Tom’s newfound reputation while maintaining solid alibis.

If you happen to have photographic evidence of Tom in full “killing machine” mode, we would genuinely love to see it. At this stage, the most aggressive thing we’ve witnessed him to is refuse to get out of a warm patch of sunlight and from time-to-time play-fight with Frank the cavalier cross.

For context, just yesterday we had seven crows lined up on our side fence, eyeing off Kevin, our elderly, frail lop-eared rabbit, and casually swooping in to eat his food. Kevin was trembling, hiding in his hutch. If Tom is the apex predator described in your letter, our murder of crows doesn’t know about it.

For the record, Tom is microchipped, desexed and aside from his alleged crime spree, an otherwise law-abiding citizen.

We do appreciate the love for local wildlife. We share it. In fact, our front yard, especially our jacaranda tree, may be the greatest bird sanctuary in Subi. I doubt that would happen if Tom (now known as Hannibal Lec-purr) was “terrorising and killing en masse” as has been described.

Whoever you are, we love your passion — even if we feel our Tom has been a little unfairly branded a silent assassin.

Still, to these modern-day Gladys Kravitzes and Mrs Jessops of suburbia, we would gently suggest these matters are probably easier discussed face-to-face than via anonymous night mail.

I’ve also checked with the local council and apparently, we are following all the rules.

Which brings me to this fascinating article I recently stumbled across about how pets view their owners.

Apparently research suggests that dogs understand humans are an entirely different species, which is why they treat us like pack leaders. Cats, meanwhile, think humans are simply giant, slightly incompetent fellow cats.

When they rub against your legs, they’re treating you as one of their own — albeit a large, hairless and somewhat awkward moggie.

Which explains why Tom ignores every household rule, sleeps 20 hours a day and still behaves as though he owns the place.