How to cat-proof your house in Australia

A house is a jungle gym that also contains bleach, paracetamol and a balcony with a view. Cats investigate with their mouths, launch from the fridge, and nap in the appliance you were about to turn on. Cat-proofing is a habit of looking at rooms the way a small athletic thief would.

If you are keeping a cat in for wildlife as well as welfare, read indoor cats and Australian wildlife. If a kitten is about to arrive, bringing home a kitten covers the first weeks. Here we walk the building.

Start at the edges: windows, doors, balconies

High-rise falls have a bland name in emergency clinics: high-rise syndrome. A cat who has lived on the eighth floor for years can still jump after a moth, slip on a railing, or overbalance while talking to a pigeon. Screens that were hung to keep mosquitoes out are not rated for a two-kilogram shove. Balcony rails a child could wriggle through are a cat-sized exit.

If you have a balcony, treat it as a potential drop. Install netting or clear screening made for animals, fixed so the cat cannot climb into a pocket and fall from the top. Do not rely on a few cable ties and optimism. Keep launch furniture — chairs, pot plants, the barbecue — away from the lip if they create a step. In summer the balcony floor can burn paws; in storms it becomes a wind tunnel. A secure catio is a project. An open sliding door on a tower in Surfers or Docklands is a gamble.

Windows need the same honesty. A tilt window can trap a neck. A security screen should actually be screwed in. Flyscreen mesh will peel like fruit leather. Ground-floor windows in a Queenslander are an invitation to the street and to every tom who wants a fight. Decide whether this household is indoor, indoor-with-enclosure, or supervised outdoor, then build the edges to match. "Mostly indoor except at dusk" is how cats meet cars and quolls.

Doors to the garage, pool fence and street need a gate or a habit the most distracted teenager can keep. Cats slip. That is their sport.

Lilies, and the rest of the botanical charge sheet

True lilies — the ones in the cheap service-station bunches, the Easter church flowers, the "get well" vase — are a veterinary emergency for cats. Pollen on a coat that later gets licked, a single chewed leaf, the water in the vase: Australian clinics see the kidney damage every year. If there has been contact, you do not wait for vomiting to "see how they go". You phone a registered vet or an emergency centre now and you take the plant with you if you can.

Do not keep those flowers in a cat house. Tell guests. Tell the well-meaning neighbour. There are other flowers. There are other ways to say congratulations.

Other plants earn a side-eye: some lilies of the valley and bulbs, oleander, yesterday-today-and-tomorrow, certain philodendrons and pothos, sago palm, and a long tail of house plants that irritate mouths or guts. You do not need to memorise Latin on day one. You need to photograph what you already own and check it, then stop bringing home mystery cuttings from a council verge. Outdoor cats add lilies in other people's gardens, cocoa mulch, and snail bait. Indoor life removes some of those and concentrates the ones on your own hall table.

Human foods that are a problem — onion, garlic, chocolate, xylitol in some sugar-free products, alcohol, raw bread dough — belong in cupboards, not on plates left at cat-head height. Cats are less dedicated thieves than dogs, until they are not.

String, sewing, and the things that look like prey

Linear foreign bodies are a cat specialty. Thread, tinsel, dental floss, rubber bands, hair ties, the ribbon off a present, a needle and cotton still attached. They swallow one end. The rest gathers. Surgery is the sequel. Keep the sewing box shut. Bin the loose hair tie instead of leaving it on the bathroom bench. Christmas is a separate audit: tinsel is pretty and stupid.

Supervise wand play and put the string away. If you knit, a bag that zips is not optional. Hide electrical cords. Do not invent a bitter home spray.

The medicine cabinet is a crime scene

Human painkillers that people treat as ordinary — the ones in every Australian bathroom — can be catastrophic for cats. So can some cold medicines, antidepressants, ADHD tablets and blood-pressure drugs if they hit the floor. You do not need a list of lethal milligrams. You need childproof storage that is also cat-proof, because cats open bags and knock bottles. If a tablet is missing and you are not sure whether a cat was in the room, call a registered vet. Do not induce vomiting because a search result sounded confident. Do not offer another human medicine as an antidote.

Essential oils, tea-tree products, some diffusers and concentrated eucalyptus have their own case pile. Cats' livers are not a spa. If you would not like the animal to lick it off fur, do not perfume the air they live in.

Laundry and kitchen chemicals go up and latch. The washing machine and dryer get a look before every cycle; kittens sleep in warm drums. Reclining lounges and fold-out sofas have crushed cats. Check before you sit with your full weight. The dishwasher door is a drinking fountain with detergent still in it.

Kittens and adults are different projects

A kitten is a mouth on legs. They fit in teacups, climb flyscreens, chew phone chargers and vanish into recliner mechanisms. Kitten-proofing is closer to toddler-proofing plus vertical space. Block the gap behind the fridge. Close the toilet if they are the kind of maniac who will fall in. Provide height that is legal — a tree, a shelf — so they stop inventing it on the mantelpiece of breakable things.

An adult cat has habits and sometimes a history of street smarts that do not include your particular balcony. A newly indoor adult needs the same edge security plus patience. They may test doors for weeks. They may eat house plants out of protest or curiosity. They may be a delicate vomiter who cannot afford a lily experiment at all.

Multi-cat homes need extra trays, height and hiding places. A puppy will eat the cat food; the cat will walk on the dog to leave. A cat-width gap in a door saves arguments.

A walk-through you can do tonight

Kitchen: no onions on the bench, bin shut, dishwasher closed, stove knobs not tempting if you have a jumper who will sit in a hot pan. Bathroom: medicines up, hair ties gone, toilet a household decision. Laundry: machine doors shut, detergent up, dryer checked. Living room: cords hidden, recliner checked, lilies gone, string gone. Bedrooms: sewing away, window screens real. Balcony: netting or no access. Garage: antifreeze is sweet and lethal — do not leave it in a tray.

Then live in the house for a week and watch. The cat will show you the shelf you missed. Fix that too. Cat-proofing is not a certificate. It is the ongoing admission that you share a building with someone who thinks gravity is optional and flowers are food. Make the building boring in all the deadly ways, and interesting in the safe ones — scratch posts, windows with screens, play before dinner. That is an Australian indoor life that does not end in a 2 a.m. drive because a bouquet was pretty.