Chris looks after a bunch of bruiser cats with Siberian roots
I’ve just finished looking after a group of Siberian Forest Cats, affectionately and correctly referred to by their owner as The Mob.
This has been my toughest job as a cat-sitter yet. These cats are huge! Their size is closer to that of a small dog than your average domestic feline. In fact, I’m fairly sure that, with their heavy frames and pure muscle, they could upset most dogs just as much as my own dog-baiter-cat Bodmin. And there are lots of them – at least half a dozen. It’s like living with a gang of double-sized Bodmins.
I first ran into problems on day one. Serving their meals proved... challenging. This was mainly because, as I tried to transfer food from cans to bowls, all seven cats launched up at me like pointy-eared missiles.
Cat food flew everywhere. They were jumping to catch sloppy chunks in mid-air, and propelling half of it up the walls. Then there were the litter trays. The volumes of cat litter spread across the floor gave the cottage the overall appearance of a white-sand Caribbean beach... but without the charm. And smellier.
On top of all that, the amount of prey being caught on a daily basis was breathtaking. And the size of that prey! Not your common or garden variety tiny mice and voles for these lads. Oh, no – I was treated to giant rats, pigeons and a few others. I half expected to arrive one day to find a six-foot hole torn around the catflap and a cow lying on the kitchen floor.
Every day, once fed their half ton of cat food, The Mob would make a beeline for me and I’d go down fighting in a furry mass as all craved stroking and attention for half an hour. It’s just a good job that they didn’t see me as worthy prey. Too fatty.
