Little Yucky

[baroque_mongoose]

When I lived in Sheffield, I had four cats, and they were all very different. I've already posted a few times about the remarkably intelligent Minsky, and I think I've at least mentioned his poor dim brother Chomsky a few times (a lovely cat, but most embarrassingly misnamed). The other two, who were both ginger, were originally called Klinsmann and Bierhoff, because I thought I had a couple of ginger toms, as you do; however, it soon became very apparent that Klinsmann was definitely a little boy, whereas Bierhoff showed no signs of any, er, similar development... so I looked more closely and discovered I'd done the poor kitten an injustice. She was, in fact, a girl. So she was hastily and apologetically renamed Heidi, after her tendency to disappear into Heidi-holes at every turn, while her brother remained Klinsmann.

All I can say is that if Jurgen Klinsmann had known exactly what he'd had named after him, he'd have been appalled. Klinsmann just seemed outgoing and curious at first, but, as I got to know him better, I rapidly discovered that he was, in fact, Chaotic Evil. He constantly bullied his sister, which was how she ended up with something like +6 on Hide (to everyone's relief except Klinsmann's, even when she was fully grown she was still able to pour herself through the very narrow gap under the chaise longue, which he could not do, so she frequently hung out there for safety). He hassled poor Chomsky, who, despite being much bigger than Klinsmann, had no idea what to do about it. He tried to hassle Minsky, but Minsky knew exactly what to do about it; there was one especially comic moment when Klinsmann went a bit too far, and Minsky reared up on his hind legs and dealt the little hooligan a swift one-two like a boxer. It wouldn't have hurt - Minsky wasn't that sort of cat - but it very much made a point; I've never seen a cat look quite so shocked as Klinsmann did at that moment.

Klinsmann also liked to get his kicks from scaring the ad-dabs out of the largest dogs he could find. Our neighbourhood wasn't that nice, so quite a few people let their dogs roam freely rather than taking them for proper walks... which left the poor dogs vulnerable to Klinsmann's evil sense of humour. He'd scope out the wandering hound, flatten his ears back, and charge. And the dog would invariably panic. You could see it thinking "what even is this thing, it's psycho, I'm out of here!" And I'd think, "yes, sorry, dog, you're quite right, it is psycho, get your humans to take you for a nice safe walk next time". The really big ones he was content merely to terrify, but anything about his size or a little bigger he'd generally attempt to either fight or rape (the latter despite the fact that I had him neutered as soon as I could, to avoid the neighbourhood being overrun with little ginger thugs, and also, I'm sorry to say, to protect his sister - he really didn't give a hoot about things like incest). I soon decided that what must have happened was that Greebo had briefly escaped from the Discworld into our world, where he begat Klinsmann and then departed whence he came. It seemed the only sensible explanation.

So Klinsmann rapidly earned the nickname "Little Yucky"; and Minsky, I'm quite sure, had to spend quite a lot of time apologising for him to the other animals in the neighbourhood, or at least felt that he had to, even though Klinsmann obviously wasn't his fault.

My cats were free-fed most of the time on good-quality kibble, but at weekends (and very occasionally at other times) I'd treat them all to "squishy food". While they liked the kibble well enough, they were very enthusiastic about the "squishy food" and would come running for it. There were four cats, so there were four bowls, and that should have been fine... except that there was Klinsmann. Klinsmann simply could not pass up any opportunity to annoy someone; so the other three cats would all pick a bowl, and then Klinsmann would start eating out of one of the other cats' bowls. So the cat who had been picked on would move to the vacant one... and Klinsmann would follow. Rinse and repeat. This behaviour, inevitably, became known as "yuckling", and I soon took to stopping it by picking the little villain up as soon as he started it and restraining him till everyone else had finished eating, after which he was allowed to have his treat. He did, of course, protest considerably about this; but for all the rest of his flaws, he did like humans very much, and never in all his fairly long life did he hurt one. He'd just wriggle like crazy and try to escape.

And then... I can't remember exactly how I discovered this, but I found a far better solution. It turned out that Klinsmann couldn't stand beef. In fact, he hated it in the same way as I hate vinegar, which is to say he could detect and avoid it in pretty nearly homeopathic quantities. After that, it was very easy. There's beef in quite a lot of "squishy food" for cats; so I'd just make sure that the ones I bought for the others had beef in and the one I bought for Klinsmann didn't, and we were sorted. No more yuckling! As long as I put down the other three first before I put Klinsmann's down, it was all fine.

Inevitably, he cost me a fair bit in vet bills, given that he was always getting into fights. (I shall never know how much money Minsky saved me; as the local boss cat, one of the things he was exceptionally good at was stopping fights, and I dare say quite a few of those incidents involved Klinsmann.) He really didn't have a lot to commend him, looked at from a logical point of view... and then later in his life he decided to start collecting humans, which was no doubt good fun for him but it was a headache from my point of view. I'd pick him up, give him a cuddle, look at him, and go, "Klinky. Remind me. Why do I love you again?" And he'd just purr, ever so smugly, because he knew I did, in spite of everything.

He was rough, tough, and utterly disreputable. But, as it turned out, there was one hilarious irony about the little villain.

He was terrified of mice!