Biting The Hand That Feeds You

......And then there were two. Last week my fellow neighbour Kin, Appollo (or Polly) died. He was to buried with his brother Zeus (who died in July) but due to some rather worrying signs of exhumation by the local Fox community, his owners decided to have him cremated and scatter his ashes instead. So that just leaves me and their brother Achilles (Bill to his friends) as neighbours.

After such proof of Catty mortality, I have been reflecting that if I can carry my inner Kittenhood within me at all times I will never become older. From now on I will refer to myself as Master Patterson and revert as often as possible to Kitten antics.

Talking about Kitten antics, when feeling favourably disposed towards my owners, I will often delight them by rolling on my back and exposing my ever-so-fluffy underbelly for fuss. Invariably only minutes later, instinct seems to overwhelm me, and I open my eyes to find my back paws, front paws, claws and sharp teeth wrapped around one of their unwitting hands. Somewhat embarrassed, I realise that within all Kin is the conflict between the emotions about being fussed (where we release our  "Kitten side" with our owners seen as some sort of Mummy-Cat-parent figure) and our "Wild side" where we are the hunter (and the said hapless hand, the prey!).

This week Ukrainian lion tamer Oleksie Pinko learned about this conflict when working with Big Kin. He was attacked by two of his lions, which had to be kept at bay by steel rods and water canons! Fellow Big Kin can be heard roaring before they lunge, strike and bite down on the trainer's left arm (this attack follows another dangerous incident a month ago at Las Vegas' MGM Grand Hotel when a lion turned on its trainer, although that time the audience were separated by protective glass, whereas only a netting appears to separate the lions in Ukraine from the circus audience!)

Now it could be that Big Kin were having a bad day; or were somehow frightened momentarily; or maybe they sensed an "intruder" to the ring and redirected their automatic territorial response by attacking the closest moving target (the said trainer)?

But I would submit that their Kitten Side was overwhelmed by their Wild Side for one mad moment! The trainer made the rookie mistake of pulling his arm away, and because this behavior is similar to prey trying to escape, it triggers a Big Kin's natural response to bite even harder. He should have moved his hand toward the back of Big Kin's mouth – rather than jerking away. No self respecting mouse would ever move toward it's predator, and this would have caused confusion and a loosened grip.

My male owner's hand is a particularly juicy favourite of mine. Unlike my female owner he has not perfected the high pitched “OUCH" that makes me instinctively loosen my grip (since it is the sound my fellow litter-mates would make when I used to play fight with them!).

There is a potential happy ending to this story - like me, Big Kin attacked the non-dominant hand - in this case the left hand. 

Kin Commandment Number 10 - Never Bite The Hand That Feeds You/Opens Your Tins/Controls The Cat Flap!