There have been a number of recent massacres in the sleepy beachside town of Orewa, north of Auckland. None of which have gained national media attention or even a visit from the police.
That’s because the victims were mainly from an underrepresented minority group – lizards.
The prime suspect is my cat, Bungy.
When I say prime suspect, what I actually mean is undoubtedly guilty, caught red handed, absolutely the culprit, had a mangled corpse pulled from her mouth, no doubt about her culpability, no lawyer in the land could get her off, completely to blame.
I bought and moved into a house in Orewa with my feline friend a couple of months ago and the first six weeks passed with relative calm.
This filled me with dread.
You see, Bungy is not a normal cat. Not by a long shot. She is, without doubt, the naughtiest and also the smartest cat I’ve ever owned.
Not that owned is even remotely accurate for a cat-human relationship. We rent at best.
As far as being intelligent is concerned, the bar isn’t high.
One of our previous long-serving moggies, Pherro, may have actually been brain damaged. There was an incident with a scratching post and a ball on an elastic string when she was a kitten. She was batting it around like crazy. I left the room for a few minutes and when I returned she had the cord wrapped around her neck and didn’t appear to be breathing. I immediately ripped the elastic off. She recovered reasonably quickly but as time passed and mutant behaviour increased, we began to suspect that oxygen may have been cut off to her brain. It would certainly explain a lot.
Of course, she may have just been as dumb as a bucket of mud to begin with.
Of course, she may have just been as dumb as a bucket of mud to begin with.
Bungy is a completely different beast. She’s cunning and a complete menace but gets away with some truly deplorable behaviour by being super-friendly. This is particularly evident at Open Homes.
Bungy loves a good Open Home. It doesn’t even have to be ours.
My Orewa neighbours have their house on the market. This happened not long after I moved in but I’m sure it’s just a co-incidence.
Anyway, according to reports from their real estate agent, Bungy has been greeting prospective buyers at the door and taking them on a guided tour of the premises. Remember, this is a property she doesn’t live at or has even been invited into.
When this was conveyed to me I wasn’t at all surprised. Similar behaviour had been recounted at various property showings over the years. In fact, after one particularly fine performance which involved playing with viewer’s kids and shameless belly revealing for the purpose of scratching, the agent was asked if the cat could be purchased with the house. Had anyone spoken to me, the answer would have been a resounding yes.
Back to the massacre.
I had noticed quite a few Northern grass skinks (fortunately an abundant species of lizard) zipping around the garden, doing whatever it is skinks do and I thought to myself.
‘What a happy scene. I hope nothing horrible happens to ruin it.’
Several weeks later the hammer dropped. I don’t know what started it. Maybe one of the lizards questioned Bungy’s parentage. Whatever it was, the flood-gates opened.
In the space of one day I discovered five mangled reptilian corpses spread throughout the kitchen and lounge-room. It was like a scene from Kill Bill, had ‘the Bride’ embarked on a vendetta against skinks.
Bungy was rounded up, half a lizard still in her mouth, and stern words were had. All of which, she ignored.
Since that fateful day I’ve rescued several skinks that were being batted about like billiard balls and another three bodies have been uncovered, one while I was mopping lizard blood off the kitchen floor.
Good times.
If this continues I’m going to try and organise a sit-down between Bungy and the leader of the lizards. See if some kind of armistice can be arranged.
It’s either that or move again.
At least the neighbours wouldn’t have to sell their house.
.
Is it just me or does Bungy just look like a culprit?