Head cat
Last week a friend mentioned that her neighbor’s prize chicken had been found dead, and that the prime murder suspect was the neighbor’s cat. Immediately I leapt to the defense of the feline, who by the way I’ve never met.
“How do you know it was the cat? Were her paw prints all over the carcass? Was there DNA evidence? Did someone study the blood spatter patterns to establish that the chicken had been the victim of a feline attack? In the first place, what was the prize chicken (it wasn’t a fighting cock, but some sort of breeder) doing outside an enclosure when there was a natural predator on the premises? Might the cat not have been provoked? If it really was the cat, there must’ve been extenuating circumstances. Maybe she was not being fed properly. She was hungry, so she went hunting. Or maybe she felt that her owner was neglecting her, and this was her way of getting attention.”
It turns out that the suspect had been wrongfully accused — there was no evidence to link her to the crime. Blame was shifted to a different cat, a neighborhood stray, who conveniently could not be located for interrogation. Which still did not explain why the precious chicken was not in a more secure enclosure. Later, an entirely new theory emerged: the chicken had been stolen, sold or cooked. In any case the cat has been exonerated.
I live with three cats, and consider myself a competent cat psychologist. From close observation — you will note that all my clothes are covered in cat fur despite applications of the lint brush — I know that they are complicated creatures. They may be snooty and standoffish, and carry on as if they wish to be left alone. However, if you do ignore them, they take offense. The way I figure it, cats don’t exactly want to be left alone; they want to tell you to leave them alone. You have to approach them so they can snub you.
When cats feel neglected, they begin plotting ways to get your attention. Such as attacking your prize chickens. If there are no chickens in the vicinity, they will think of some other stratagem to get noticed. It’s hard to say whether they are grabbing your attention, or punishing you for your neglect. Possibly, they do not make a distinction between these intentions. They are, after all, predators. The difference between the cat on your sofa and a tiger in the jungle is that the sofa cat has agreed not to hunt you, and only because you bring her food, toys and string.
One way cats express displeasure is by peeing on your sheets or in your shoes. Not just any old pair — they zero in on your favorite. When my cats were younger, they did not take kindly to my going away on trips. I remember an episode that occurred five years ago. At
In the last three years, my cats have moved on to more sophisticated forms of attention-getting. Saffy, my black-orange-and-white cat, is quite adept at planting and removing things from my bag. She likes extracting hair bands and playing soccer with them all over the house. Once, at a meeting, I reached into my bag to get my notebook and found the TV remote control Saffy had hidden there. I’m lucky there are no mice in my apartment, or she might enclose a souvenir. (Note: If your cats bring you dead mice, roaches or other things they’ve killed, be sure to act pleased. They are offering it to you as a gift. On the other hand, there was a time when Koosi would “kidnap” small stuffed animals and drop them in the toilet bowl. Was she drowning them, or studying buoyancy?)
Whenever Saffy wishes to make it known that I have been neglecting her, she scratches up a book. Somehow she always chooses a favorite book — can she detect my scent on the paper? — and shreds the dust jacket. For maximum effect, she does this while I am watching. Some days ago I noticed that she was being cranky. Although she is the head cat by virtue of her ferocity (when we take her to the vet for her annual shots, the vet has to take the cat carrier apart because Saffy cannot be dragged out), she is jealous of Mat, the big white cat. In contrast to the two girl cats, Mat is very sweet (probably because I didn’t raise him — he was full-grown when he joined the family) and likes to sit next to me while I work. Saffy likes to sit in front of me — on the paper I’m writing on, or on the keyboard while I’m typing. She expresses her jealousy by biting me every time I look at Mat.
I tried to mollify Saffy by giving her an extra helping of their favorite treat. She ate her treat, and then jumped up on the table and systematically barfed on my things. She didn’t just throw up — she walked over to each item and barfed directly on it. A stack of manuscript pages. A document. My notebook. After that, her mood improved considerably. Maybe I am overanalyzing my cats and it was a simple case of indigestion.
It’s a good thing I am used to feline vengeance, and my stuff was in waterproof plastic envelopes. Saffy may be the head cat, but I am the biggest cat in the house, and I automatically win all staring contests.
