Newsweek ran an article on documenting kitty love. Or rather trying to prove that our aloof cats really do love us after all. They’re not just assholes, and we are not their servant-savants. Now, most quasi-scientific articles on cat behavior are beyond ridiculous—especially the ones that try to (dis)prove the cognitive abilities of cats. Markers of feline affection are even harder to map. Especially if you are prone to use the behavior of sycophantic dogs as a reference point.
I was always interested in cat behavior, having had cats all my life. Our first cat was a Siamese, who decided that I need a protection and slept with me in the crib. My father was convinced she would smother me, my mother said no, leave her alone. She’s protecting the baby. And so she did. Much later, I also wanted to become a veterinarian, so I was always observing animal behavior.
When it came to choosing my own kitten from my friend’s litter, this time I let the kitten choose me, not the other way around. The previous kitten I chose on looks alone. Luckily Frosty, a seal-point Saimese with white markings was a good cat. I was sold on Siamese-alley cat mix. You got the best of both worlds, blue-eyed beauty and street-smarts. And hopefully you didn’t get a crossbreed that sang the song of the Siamese cat’s tribe.
There were at least five kittens to choose from the clowder as the purebred Siamese mother proudly surveyed her mongrel litter. Luckily they mostly took after her with Siamese markings and tabby stripes. It was a hard decision, I wanted them all.
My friend’s stepmother would not let us take our chosen kittens right away, she said they were too young at six weeks, so we interacted with them for two weeks when they came of age to leave the nest. Wise decision. Less trauma for them. My kitten was one well-adjusted cat. He was both adventuresome and trusting.
Most people choose their cats based on quirks and vagaries of beauty, not realizing that the cat too would like to make a choice as to whom he trusts and wants to interact with. Though it took me a while to find his name, Ziggy Stardust chose me. He fell asleep in my lap on his back with paws splayed. My heart melted.
At College of Marin I did a social experiment with my Siamese-tabby mix kitten for a psychology class, we were studying animal behavior. Konrad Lorenz’s imprinted ducklings was my inspiration.
I taught my beautiful blue-eyed kitten to come when I whistled, to lay down, roll over, and to fetch a piece of crumpled paper and return it to me. He performed brilliantly for the class and was unafraid of strangers. We all sat in a circle on the carpet,, and he wended his way in an out of all of us, curious to the end. It was interesting to watch him work the crowd and you could see my fellow students falling in love.
When I brought Ziggy back to school a few months later, he was terrified, and would not do anything at all, except for to hide and yowl. It was a long miserable day at school for both of us. This was in the days before cat carriers were invented, so I carried him on the bus to and from school. No leash. No harness. He stuck to me like glue. I was his only hope. We were a bonded pair. I never put them in a stressful position like that again.
I trained that cat to do many other things as well. Perhaps the most unusual feat was to convince him to hop into a picnic basket so that I could lower him from the second story window to the ground so he could go potty. Then, after he did his duty, he would hop back inside the basket and ride the elevator back up to my window for his morning snuggle.
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| Figby & Ziggy adored my grandmother, much to her chagrin, & she let them inside. |
- See Figby & Pishkin a story about two brother cats, and a good example of nature versus nurture.
