I’m being terrorised by a Bengal cat

Over the past year and a half, I have been victimised by my neighbour’s cat. Bollinger the Bengal weighs just seven pounds and has a silly dangly bell around his neck, but he manages to terrorise both me and my two cats. He fights my male cat, George, so viciously that I fear he might kill him.

Nothing irks me more than watching people cooing around Bollinger when they see his ocelot-like frame. While some Bengal cats can be wonderful pets, their wild instincts make them territorial and aggressive, as well as horribly effective hunters that can ravage bird populations.

This summer, the town of Walldorf in southwest Germany introduced a cat curfew to protect the breeding season of the endangered crested lark. The measure was lifted a few weeks ago but is intended to run every summer until 2025. Pet owners in breach of the curfew risk being fined between €500 and €50,000.

In the US, Bengal cats are banned in four states, including Seattle and New York, and there are restrictions in six others. Most states demand a permit or that cats are several generations removed from the Asian leopard breed. No such legislation exists in the UK, although there have been calls for owners to require a licence under the 1976 Dangerous Wild Animals Act. Bollinger often stalks me down the road, growling and hissing. He seems to spend half his time in my garden or on my windowsills. He torments my cats through the glass. He knocks over flowerpots and leaves scratch marks on the panes. I now close my curtains when I go out. The flat looks more like a nuclear bunker than a relaxing home.

Other cats in the area are regularly attacked and their owners are permanently stressed. One neighbour has kept his cat inside for more than a year. Plenty of people have had to chase Bollinger out of their flats and into the street to break up fights. Before he came along, life was more harmonious. The odd cat fight settled any disputes. Now I have a modest collection of weapons to deter him: a high-pressure water pistol, a bag of potatoes and a washing-up bottle filled with sugary water.

Cats have a right to roam in UK law, unlike dogs and livestock. Extreme nuisance can, however, lead to local councils issuing antisocial behaviour orders. A few years ago, a group of cat owners in Roehampton proved that a local Bengal was wreaking havoc by going into people’s houses and savaging their pets. The Asbo meant its owner had to keep the cat inside. If they didn’t comply, they’d be committing a criminal offence.

Bollinger wants to roam and hunt, which is fair enough – but perhaps Pimlico is the wrong terrain for him. My mother’s cat, Hector, is a quarter Bengal but is lovely to both cats and humans. He is, however, known as the Robin Hood of Putney, because he likes to slaughter squirrels, who otherwise would be ransacking birds’ nests and stripping bark off trees. My aunt, on the other hand, has a pair of Bengals who seem quite miserable. They aren’t allowed out and instead exert all their wild energy on torturing the dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback bred for hunting bears and lions. It’s all rather sad.