Tag: witnesses

  • Case File 0577: The Fish Tank Incident

    Case File 0577: The Fish Tank Incident

    The policyholder returned home at 6 PM to find the living room carpet saturated, a fish tank empty, and the cat sitting on the sofa with a look of tidy innocence. The fish, remarkably, were found alive in a mixing bowl. Someone, it seems, had rescued them in a hurry.

    Initial assessment

    The assessor noted a paw print on the edge of the tank. It was wet. It was also, by the shape of it, a cat’s. The cat declined to elaborate.

    Complicating factors

    The tank was a decorative model with a thin lid, a feature the policyholder described as “stylish.” The lid was found on the floor. The cat was found beneath a blanket, apparently asleep.

    Outcome

    Claim approved, less excess. The policyholder has been advised to purchase a heavy lid, and the cat has been advised to apologise to the fish. The fish have not yet forgiven her.

    Statements

    The policyholder was asked whether the cat had ever shown an interest in the fish. “Only every day,” he replied. A neighbour was asked whether she had heard a splash. “I heard a thud, then a splash, then a very long silence,” she said, “and then I heard someone say, ‘Oh, you did not.’” We have accepted this as the clearest account of the afternoon.

    The fish

    Both fish, one orange and one rather offended grey, were assessed by a vet and declared fit. They have since been given a larger tank, with a heavy lid, an alarm and a small sign saying “Please.” The orange fish has become something of a local celebrity.

    Financial summary

    The claim for the carpet was paid in full, less excess and a small deduction for the policyholder describing the lid as “stylish.” The claim for the fish was declined on the grounds that fish are not insured against being rescued.

  • Assessor Handbook Extract: How To Interview a Suspect Cat

    Assessor Handbook Extract: How To Interview a Suspect Cat

    Before you begin

    A cat interview is not a conversation. It is a negotiation, and the cat holds all the cards, most of them in her paws. Prepare a calm room, a comfortable chair, a notebook and a small plate of something fishy. Do not bring a tape recorder. Cats consider recorders rude.

    Opening the interview

    Begin with a casual greeting, such as “Good afternoon.” The cat will not respond. This is normal. Wait for a count of ten and then say, “I understand there was an incident.” The cat will look at the wall. Make a note.

    Key questions

    • Where were you at the time of the incident?
    • What were your intentions?
    • Is this your tail, or is it a colleague’s?
    • Would you say the vase looked ready?

    Interpreting the answers

    A cat who answers by washing her face is saying “I decline to comment.” A cat who walks away slowly is saying “I have already been cleared.” A cat who falls asleep is saying “You are not very good at this.”

    Concluding the interview

    Thank the cat. Do not shake a paw. Leave a treat as a gesture of goodwill and do not mention it in the report.

    Common pitfalls

    Do not interview two cats at once. They will reach a private agreement within seconds, usually based on a look, and you will be left with two identical silences. Do not offer a cat a seat that is lower than yours. She will take it as an insult and sit on your coat instead. Do not ask a cat to describe a vase in her own words. She will use the only word she has, which is a very long stare.

    Notes on body language

    • Slow blink: a sign of trust, or of boredom, depending on the hour.
    • Ears flat: a sign that you have reached the end of the interview.
    • Tail wrapped around the paws: a sign of composure, and probably guilt.
    • Standing up, stretching and walking away: a sign of a full confession, delivered in the only language she has.
  • Assessor Diary: A Week of Staring at Things That Fell

    Assessor Diary: A Week of Staring at Things That Fell

    Monday

    Arrived at 8:15. The first claim of the week involved a lamp, a rug and a very confident ginger cat. I knelt down to measure the distance between the lamp and the rug. The cat knelt too, in the sense that she sat directly on my notes. We both stared at the lamp. I wrote “inconclusive” and she purred.

    Tuesday

    A flowerpot, a window ledge and a fear of heights. The policyholder insisted that his cat was afraid of the ledge and would never go near it. I found paw prints on the ledge, in dust, in a pattern that formed what looked very much like a signature. I took a photograph and was asked not to be dramatic.

    Wednesday

    Lunch was a sardine sandwich, which I ate at my desk while a colleague named Thimble asked if I was going to finish it. I was not. I do not believe a case has ever been solved without a sardine sandwich nearby.

    Thursday

    I attended a household in which every object on the lowest shelf had been moved, one centimetre at a time, over six weeks. The owner called this “a pattern.” I called it “a patient cat.” We agreed to call it Loss 17 and move on.

    Friday

    A quiet day. Only one claim, for a glass of wine and a cat who did not drink wine, but who did appear to be enjoying the aftermath. I filed the report under “mild and fragrant.”

    Saturday and Sunday

    The Bureau is closed at weekends, in theory. In practice, I spent both days looking at my own mug, which sat on the edge of my desk at home, placed there by someone who I now think was me. I moved it back by six centimetres. It remained there for an hour. Then the cat came in.

    A thought for the week

    Every loss has a story, and every story has a cat in it. Our job is not to blame the cat. It is to write down, in tidy handwriting, that we know exactly who did it.

    Sunday evening, a postscript

    Having re read this diary, I note with some alarm that I have written very little about the actual assessing. This is because the assessing is quite short. One arrives, one looks, one measures, one writes the word “cat.” The rest of the week is waiting, snacks, small talk and a growing feeling that the shelf is watching.

    Things I carry in my bag

    • A tape measure, silver, which cats love to chase and I love to retrieve.
    • A magnifying glass, used mostly for looking at paw prints but sometimes for looking at nothing in a thoughtful way.
    • A notebook, stained with tea and the occasional fishy thumbprint.
    • A spare notebook, for the notes the first notebook was sat on.
    • A small bag of treats, for bribery, diplomacy and morale.

    A recurring problem

    Every second claim contains the sentence “she has never done this before.” I have heard it so often that I have it embroidered on a cushion. In my experience, a cat who has never done something before is a cat who is about to start. The phrase is not a defence but a forecast.

    Rules I have learned

    First, never stand directly under the item in question. Second, never stand directly behind the cat. Third, never agree to hold the cat’s tail for her while she thinks. Fourth, if a cat looks at you and then at a glass, step back with the grace of someone who has made the right call.

    What I would tell my younger self

    Work gets easier, but not by much. The vases do not become any less fragile, and the cats do not become any less certain. One simply learns to bring a thermos, and a second sandwich, and a quiet feeling of respect for a profession that has the cat as its central figure and the floor as its main character.

    Final thoughts

    If you are ever in doubt, remember that I am always here, in my small grey coat, writing the word cat in a neat hand. It is a job, and it is a calling. It is also, I admit, a great deal of fun.

  • Case File 0412: The Vase, the Cat and the Sudden Breeze

    Case File 0412: The Vase, the Cat and the Sudden Breeze

    Summary of claim

    The policyholder, a Mr. Thaddeus Pimm of no fixed opinion, submitted a claim for one blue vase, “ceramic, large, formerly on the sideboard.” The claim form listed the cause of loss as “a sudden breeze.” The attached photograph showed the vase in eleven pieces and a cat in the background, washing a paw.

    Under the terms of our standard policy, breakage caused by weather, tremor or an act of nature is covered. Breakage caused by a cat is covered only if the cat acted without intent. This assessment explores the question of intent.

    The scene

    Our senior assessor, Inspector Marmalade Quill, attended the property on the Thursday following the incident. She found a sideboard of dark wood, a window that did not open, and a doorway through which no breeze had passed in recent memory. A draught excluder lay across the threshold, undisturbed.

    The vase had stood two centimetres from the edge. The assessor measured the gap three times and recorded, in her report, “two centimetres, which is not nothing.”

    Witness statements

    Four witnesses were interviewed. The policyholder said he had been in the kitchen and had heard “a noise like a bell falling down a well.” A neighbour said she had seen nothing, but added that she had always thought the cat looked “ready for something.” A small child said that the cat had looked at the vase, then at the child, then at the vase again. The cat declined to be interviewed, but was observed licking a paw in a manner the assessor described as “unhelpful.”

    The breeze, when contacted, did not respond.

    Analysis of intent

    Our assessment guide defines intent as “any act preceded by visible deliberation.” The cat was observed by the child to undertake three distinct stages of deliberation: the stare, the paw raised, and the pause. In our experience a pause is the clearest sign of intent, since an accident rarely hesitates.

    However, the policyholder contended that the cat was only “stretching,” and that the vase had, in a sense, been in the way of the stretch. We have considered this argument carefully. We have also considered that cats stretch in the direction of things they intend to push.

    The doctrine of the guilty tail

    The Bureau recognises a long standing principle in cat claims known as the guilty tail. If a cat’s tail is lowered, curled or held still in the minutes after a loss, this is taken as evidence of awareness. In this case, the tail was observed to flick twice, then lie flat, then flick again, which our report classifies as “mixed.”

    Determination

    After thorough review, we have concluded that the loss was caused by a cat acting with partial intent. Under Clause 14, partial intent attracts partial cover. The Bureau will pay forty percent of the replacement cost of the vase, less the excess, plus a small sum for the policyholder’s distress at being told the truth.

    Follow up

    The policyholder has been advised to move his valuables to a high shelf, preferably one that requires a ladder. He has been further advised to take the ladder away afterwards, since the Bureau regards a ladder as an invitation. The cat has received a formal warning, which she is understood to be using as a bed.

    Appendix: the policyholder’s reply

    Mr. Pimm responded to the determination within the hour. His letter ran to two pages and used the word “unfair” nine times, the word “breeze” eleven times, and the word “cat” not at all. We have framed it. It hangs in the Bureau reception area, under a small sign reading “Draught Denial, Grade A.”

    Note for trainees

    New assessors should study this file closely. It shows the importance of measuring the gap, interviewing the child, and never trusting a window that does not open.