A while back, sick of the nightly trauma of chasing reluctant cats out from inaccessible hiding places behind and under furniture to put them out of the house for the night, Simon decided to fit a cat flap. Despite the initial period of nightly slumbers disturbed by the excited barking of the hounds (who took some time to grow accustomed to the fact that a) cats were now allowed to stay indoors at night, b) cats were allowed to stay in the very same room as them, WITHOUT HUMAN SUPERVISION and c) cats could come and go as they pleased 24/7, generally with a very irritating catch-me-if-you-think-you’re-fast-enough expression on their smug little faces), the venture was a success.
However, there was always one reservation lurking at the back of my cat-loving mind that hung over the oh-so-convenient cat-flap scenario like an ever-present sword of Damacles. At any moment, one of our lovely, but gruesomely successful hunting felines might decide to bring some half-chewed trophy into the house before we could do anything to stop them.