Speaking in cat

I just read an article about the Amichien bonding method for dogs. The author’s five-year-old dog was being aggressive around other male dogs, so she took him to a dog behavioral expert. The behavioral expert said the dog had assumed the role of pack leader, and was only protecting his pack, i.e. his human. The author was advised to demonstrate her leadership over the pack.

Cats don’t have packs, being downright neurotic about their individuality. Except for lions, of course, and no one’s about to insult a lion for always hanging out with the pride. However, I thought it might be useful to remind my three cats — Koosi, Saffy, and Mat — that I am the alpha cat, i.e. the boss in our household. I am sure the mere idea was hilarious to them, but they had to remain cool and ironic throughout the experiment. Coolness is very important to cats.

One time, when I arrived at my apartment and turned on the lights, Koosi emerged from the bedroom and started trotting towards me to greet me. When she saw that I had company, she stopped in mid-run, lay on the floor, and put on an expression of “Oh, it’s you.” She could demonstrate her gladness at seeing me, but only to me; other people were not allowed to witness this loss of cool. It’s so un-cat-like.

According to the article, “dog listening” uses non-verbal cues to mimic the alpha behavior displayed by the pack leader in four areas: eating, hunting, protection, and status.

First, eating. The expert says the human must eat first. This is because the alpha animal must stay healthy and strong, or else the entire pack is at risk. Makes sense. I ordered a pepperoni and anchovy pizza, and when it arrived, I took a slice and ate it in front of them. Koosi ignored me altogether. Saffy watched me for half a minute, got bored, and went to sit on my computer.

Only Mat took an interest in my meal, but Mat takes an interest in all food. I think that Mat has short-term memory loss similar to Guy Pearce’s condition in that movie, Memento. Mat forgets that he just ate five minutes ago, and will sit at my feet making goo-goo eyes at me until I refill his bowl of kibble. Which, by the way, is never empty, but he insists it be full to overflowing at all times. I used to fall for Mat’s Oliver Twist routine (“Please, may I have some more?” — very effective, as my cats have eyes like Japanese anime characters) until the vet pronounced Mat obese and put him on a diet. He did not lose any weight on the program because he liked the flavor of the dietetic kibble. Then I realized that the way to keep Mat’s weight under control was to not refill the kibble bowl every time he gave me that look. These days he’s chubby, but he no longer gets mistaken for a dog.

So Mat watched me eat my pizza. After a few minutes I cracked completely and offered him a piece of pepperoni. He took a fastidious sniff, then walked away. Probably too salty for him.

Next, hunting. When they’re out walking, the human must always be in control of the leash, thus releasing the animal from the “stress of leadership.”

“All right, kids, we’re going for a walk,” I announced as I took their harnesses down from the dusty box on top of the shelf. At the sight of their harnesses, all three vanished into closets and under furniture. No amount of coaxing would convince them to join me in a stroll. After 15 minutes of chasing them and attempting to bribe them with catnip, I went for a walk by myself.

Third, protection. The human must assess potential threats and deal with them accordingly. Now, what would constitute a threat to our immediate environment? There are no other animals in the vicinity. Then when I went shopping for our weekly supplies, I discovered that the price of a 1.5-kilogram bag of cat food had gone up by 50 bucks. Fifty bucks! This called for prompt action. I immediately went out and got a 7- kg bag of cat food; from now on, we’re buying wholesale. Alpha cat licks the problem.

Finally, status. The human must ignore the animals when she gets home, and greet them later. That evening when I got home, I looked straight ahead and pretended not to notice any felines that had come to welcome me. This was entirely unnecessary, as no felines had come to welcome me. Koosi was asleep on the top shelf, Saffy was ceremoniously cleaning herself, while Mat was sitting at the window watching birds.

In closing I must say that our experiment has been successful: I propose adapting the Amichien method into the Amichat method for cats. Like the author of the piece on “dog-listening,” I sense that my cats are happier — they’re just too cool to express it. Now they know who’s the master of their universe.