"Cruel, but composed and bland,

Dumb, inscrutable and grand,

So Tiberius might have sat,

Had Tiberius been a cat."

SO wrote Matthew Arnold (1822-88), British poet and critic. How right he was, for unlike dogs that look up to humans, and pigs that treat them as equals, cats look down on them.

Dogs protect us and guard our homes. They are faithful and loving companions that can be trained as guide dogs, farm workers, police dogs and help us find things. Even the simplest of canines will enjoy making itself useful around the house, and will ensure that its owner gets regular exercise.

Pigs are fun-loving creatures that do not require exercising or grooming; they are not fussy eaters, and as long as their troughs are filled at mealtimes, they will happily co-exist with their fellow porkers and give much pleasure to their owners. And when their short lives are ended they provide us with enjoyable nourishment.

Cats are sadistic, snooty, and independent creatures, unless they are after food and drink, then they become fawning. Unlike dogs, they have few useful qualities; they damage furniture; cause rows between neighbours by fouling their gardens and uprooting their plants; keep you awake at night with the cacophonous noises that accompany their lovemaking and territorial disputes and, although occasionally passed off as rabbits when skinned, they are not very good to eat.

Cat-lovers will argue that cats keep down rats and mice. Perhaps they do, but being pampered and well fed, as they usually are - unlike other predators, who kill for food - cats only kill for fun. Not only house mice, but also small wild animals and birds, many species of which are facing near extinction because of the depredations of these murderous felines. And come to think of it most of the victims I have seen being carried home as trophies by cats have been birds, dormice and voles.

As much as I am appalled at what cats do to defenceless animals, I could never be cruel to them, even when they invade my garden to prey on the birds that drop in for food and water. But when I see cats prowling on my property, I have no qualms about dousing them with water.

To help save our diminishing wildlife: if you are a cat owner, but want to feed the birds, please bell your cat to warn the birds of danger. For they already have predators hunting them for food, without cats tormenting them to death as playthings.

A FEW months ago, a man called at my home and asked if I would support the Wasps, York's rugby club. He told me that for £1 a week, I would be entered in the Wasps' daily cash prize draw and would be helping to support the club. I had no illusions about winning a cash prize, but having played prop forward for an RAF rugby team in Holland during my salad days, and being aware that the Wasps were languishing near the bottom of their league, I agreed.

After several weeks of my cash and that of other new supporters being paid into the club's fund, I hoped that the injection of this new money would inspire the team to better play. But when they were beaten 90-6 by Widnes, it looked as though my cash had been wasted, and that the only thing left for me to do was to invite Terry Clamp, a friend who played for Wakefield Trinity in the Fifties, to join me in offering our services to the beleaguered team. After all they could hardly play any worse, even with us in the team, and our presence might attract some other has-beens to watch them play.

But the Wasps regained their sting and trounced Gateshead 24-4 last Thursday. But alas, the Eagles proved too much for them on Saturday.

Now, where did I put my rugger boots after my last game in 1953?