Two cats with very different ideas about indoor life, outdoor operations, food policy and change management — and a surprising amount of authority over the household.
Local administration. Change approval remains unreliable.Photos can be clicked to open the full-size image.
BigMac & Berta at a glance
Who are BigMac and Berta?
BigMac and Berta are Dennis Hilk's cats. Both were born in May 2020. Berta is three weeks older; they are not related, even though they are so sweet together and often behave enough like siblings that people could easily think they are.
BigMac is the cuddly, mostly indoor cat. Berta is the much more dedicated outdoor field operator. Together they handle local administration, sick-day supervision and a remarkably reliable supply of stories.
BigMac
The cuddler
BigMac on one of his less frequent outdoor assignments.
BigMac got his name because he was absurdly tiny when he arrived. The oversized name was simply too good not to use.
He is the dedicated cuddle department and generally prefers being indoors, although summer can persuade him outside more often. During his first weeks he grew up around dogs, which may explain one of his stranger talents: throw him a small stick and he can bring it back.
Meals have protocol. If I tell him to sit, he really does sit and waits until he gets a stroke and hears “Guten Appetit.” Only then does dinner officially begin.
SpeckMac (roughly “BaconMac”) appears when BigMac has already eaten and, about ten minutes later, sees Katharina and tries to explain that he definitely has not been fed yet. Unfortunately for him, we compare notes. SchreckMac (roughly “ScareMac”) is the other operating mode: normally completely relaxed, but the sudden flap of a rubbish bag or a dropped fork can send him out of the room at impressive speed. A moment later he carefully peeks back around the corner to check whether the emergency is over.
Berta
Head of field operations
Berta with BigMac during a rare joint administrative session.
Berta was named after Berta from Two and a Half Men, simply because I have always found the character ridiculously funny.
She cuddles on her own terms: when she wants attention, she arrives; when she has had enough, the meeting is over. Most of her day is spent outside. Food negotiations are much shorter and usually translate to: hungry now, and a treat would also be acceptable.
Berta behind the television — her favourite private podcast studio.
For someone who spends so much time outdoors, Berta has a very specific indoor ritual: she loves lying behind the television. When we watch Netflix or Prime quietly in the evening, she settles there and purrs away as if the low voices and background sound were her own personal podcast.
Off-duty field operations.
She also taught BigMac to climb when they were younger. He needed a little longer to understand the concept, but the training eventually worked.
May 2020
The first days at home
This photo was taken only a few days after BigMac and Berta moved in. They were still tiny, still discovering the house and already very comfortable sharing the same space.
Very early local administration, 2020.
Sick-day support
They notice when something is off.
Katharina pointed out something Berta shares with BigMac: both seem to notice when one of us is ill, even if it is only a cold. On those days they spend much more time close to us, lie beside us for ages and generally act as if keeping watch has suddenly become their most important job.
Moments like that are one of the reasons the two of them feel so much like a little team.
BigMac, Berta and Katharina — the local support team.
Berta's commute
Cat flap, house, garage, window.
Berta has developed a wonderfully unnecessary route to my office. She leaves through the cat flap downstairs, walks around the house, climbs onto the garage and continues until she reaches my window. Sometimes I notice her only because a cat suddenly appears just above the monitors.
I open the window, she comes in, tells me what appears to be a detailed report about the outside world, then leaves my room through the door and walks downstairs again. On a busy day this can happen three or four times.
Field reports
The trophy department is unevenly staffed.
Berta has brought home an impressive and occasionally alarming range of trophies: birds, a mole, a rabbit and even a fish. BigMac's portfolio is more modest — mostly the tiniest mice imaginable, plus one dragonfly whose capture method remains unexplained.
Naturally, the discoveries are presented indoors with great pride. The cleanup job usually becomes mine.
Incident response
The blackbird on the fridge.
One day I came out of the homelab and heard the cat flap go rumms. Both cats had vanished outside again. Downstairs, the entire house seemed to be full of feathers. I looked around and asked, “Are we running a zoo here?” No cat in sight.
Then I reached the kitchen. A very large blackbird was sitting on top of the refrigerator, looking considerably calmer than I was. The local administration had apparently completed delivery and left incident response to me.
Night operations
One of us snores.
For a while I occasionally got blamed at night for snoring. Investigation eventually produced a different suspect: BigMac. Apparently the cuddling department also runs a surprisingly convincing low-frequency audio service.
Local administration status: operational. Change requests may be ignored due to sleeping, outside business or snacks.
