The classic Disney cat; its long, slender legs, its villainous grin, its silent and stealthy movements. It stalks an innocent dog, slashes its face with its sharp claws, leaving the dog in a pool of its own blood, to then slowly slip into the night.
No, Disneys interpretation of a cat is not all that accurate. If anything, it exaggerates its gentleness. Because in real life, the victim wouldn’t be a dog. It would be you.
But, if you think about it, it’s all very reasonable.
A cat is forced to stay indoors most, if not all of its life. All of its energy preserved in its motionless body, lying on the couch, waiting for the next day with optimism. But day after day, its hopes of freedom are diminished, as it climbs on the couch, with nothing. Nothing to do. Nothing to distract itself with. Nothing to live for.
But the reasons we domesticated them in the first place is a mystery in and of itself.
With dogs, it’s simple; hunting. The speed, agility and obedience of the dog is unsurpassable. But what about the speed and agility of a cat? What about the stealth it is born with? What about the fierce claws of hunting it is gifted with?
But without obedience, none of it is useful. So, why did we tame cats then?
Cute. Furry. Comforting.
But, I had never thought of their “cute and furry” faces as, “cute and furry”. I had never even looked at their faces. I was always distracted by its eyes. The vivid color. The sharp corners. And a sliver of darkness in the center to top it off. It all seemed hypnotizing. If these creatures were gods in ancient Egypt, I wouldn’t know what to believe. Unfortunately, humans got lonely enough to allow the work of a demon to walk among us.
Evil. Villainous. Demonic.
But many think that humans didn’t make the decision to domestic cats. Many believe cats were attracted to the plants we planted, and made themselves helpful by killing rodents in our houses. And without really knowing it, we let them to roam in our home. We let them have complete freedom. Without rodents being as big a problem as before, they have complete freedom, without any uses. In other words, boredom.
And along with their boredom, comes their natural taste of blood.
We’ve already seen them kill birds. Dragging the mutilated, feathery carcasses into the kitchen, waiting for you to do something with it. The average cat hauls home 13 bodies of innocent prey. The head of a paralyzed mouse, the skinny legs of the local pigeon, the patch of fur from the neighbor cat.
But that’s only one fifth of its murders.
It eats a third of its victims, and lets half of them suffer in the street with a broken neck, torn off limb, or a gorged out stomach.

A cuddly, soft serial killer.
So wouldn’t separating them from our human lives, which we’ve adapted to, be a logical proposition? And if we released cats into the wild, more than the ferocious scratches would be cured.

Cats in the wild would allow them to be able to survive on their own, therefore making it a new priority to find food.Therefore, people can live without the rodents that are feasted on by the cat, and without our houses being infiltrated by them. Without their scurrying repulsing us. Without their sneaking haunting us.

And New Zealand is a victim of its wrath. But they require a whole different type of solution.

New Zealand has the highest humans to cat ratio, with one out of every two houses containing one or more cats. And in this case, keeping them inside all their life would benefit the community. Although, with New Zealand’s trustful freedom towards them, these guilty companions have left their mark.
The endangerment of 33 kinds of birds.
The contribution to the 40% of land birds that are now extinct.
The extinction of nine native bird species.
No, there isn’t anything you can do to change a permanent relationship between two completely different species. You aren’t able to modify our history with these animals. There isn’t a possibility in which you can alter a worldwide partnership.
But you can change the way you perceive them.