If You Don't Ask, You Won't Receive - Cat-itude

Last week I wrote about how our dogs tell us what they want and have learned to communicate their needs and intentions (and vice versa).  These week the cats get their turn.  The cats have whispered to me that they should have gone first because, well, the are cats, but sometimes it's good to keep them humble.

Anyone with a cat knows that they have a great and varied system of communication.  The problem is that this system is often cryptic, and you can consider yourself quite clever and lucky if you manage to figure some of it out.  Some of it is ridiculously obvious, like crapping on your bed after a trip to the vets.  Okay, I get it, you didn't enjoy having a thermometer shoved up your butt.  Can you just scratch me instead please?

Clawde is a lovely, people (and dog!) oriented cat.  While he may not always be stuck to your side, he does like to be near the action and just know that you're around.  Since his adoption day, he and I have learned to communicate with each other, and to be honest, I think we do quite well.  He probably did most of the training, but that's beside the point.

Clawde loves his family and loves a bit of attention.  If he doesn't want a cuddle, he can quite happily ignore you as you carry on with your day.  But if he wants a cuddle....well, he has a good repertoire of communication tools.  The most subtle, and I think the cutest one, is that he half turns onto his back, squints his eyes and pushes his whiskers forward while propping his front legs into what I call 'rabbit'.   Clawde has also reached professional status with the 'slow blink'.  A slow blink in cat language means that he loves and trusts you, and he wants attention.  Sometimes the rabbit pose is accompanied by a silent meow as well as the slow blink.

Rabbit pose - works every time.

 

Clawde?

Clawde has never been a loud meow-er (the vet begs to differ as they have actually had to move him to a back kennel on one of his many stays there. He is so loud that they can't hear their clients in the consultation room).  He either does a silent meow, or his vocalisations are quiet and kitten-like.  Nothing tugs at the heart-strings like a quiet kitten meow.

I must admit that this strategy works for Clawde about 99.99999% of the time.  If my bladder is about to burst and I'm desperate to get to the toilet, other priorities take over.  But it does work most of the time.

At other times, if I'm racing around the house trying to get chores done or getting ready to leave, I will suddenly find a supine cat blocking my passage, in rabbit pose of course.  And if I dare to step over and ignore Mr Adorable, I get a smack on my ankle.  Fortunately he's a pretty nice cat and keeps the claws in, unlike other cats I've had.

Clawde is communication two things here.

Can you guess what they are?

Clawde's intentions are also made obvious when I'm preparing food.  If I happen to be cutting up meat, his first attempt to have a morsel tossed his way is to sit behind or beside me, purring loudly (slow blink thrown in for good measure).  Daring to ignore His Highness results in him getting between me and the counter, and reaching up his full length, claws out, and stabbing me in the thighs and/or other unmentionable areas.  Wearing loose clothing then becomes a detriment as his claws lock in and he drags his front paws back down to the floor.  There go my pants.  This behaviour continues until I either pick him up and throw him outside (too much effort and involves leaving food unattended on the counter - and I do have another cat who leaps at such opportunities) or throwing down a piece of food.  So once again I am reinforcing bad behaviour.  Is this how serial killers start out?

I'm a tree!

As mentioned before, the cats have a cat door that is open almost all the time.  If the cat-slaves are home (the humans), it is deemed an unnecessary means of egressing the house, and all doors must be used.  Clawde's desire to go outside (or inside) is communicated by him walking front of me, stopping to turn his head to look at my feet to see if I'm following, and then leading me to a door.  Being a cat, he then makes sure that his intentions are not all that clear, as he stands at the door trying to make me guess if he really wanted out or not.  That usually gets him a helpful nudge to his derriere with my foot, as I make my intentions clear to him.

Another communication tool that Clawde uses (unfortunately quite effectively, I might add) also has to do with going in or out (often within half an hour of each other).  He will sit at the screen door and do a yoga stretch up to the heavens (upward cat?), latching onto the screen with those sharp needles on the ends of his toes.  Then, slowly, slowly, each claw is removed from the screen, making the most awful sound.  In case we are unsure if this is a purposeful act, a slow and deliberate glance over his shoulder at us is employed just to make sure that we are paying attention to his needs.  Yes, Clawde, we notice you.

We love a slow blink.

Clawde likes to escalate this behaviour at night.  We have a full-size patio screen door in our bedroom.  Clawde doesn't sit and do yoga in the middle of the night at this one - he jumps up and uses all four of his God-given feet to climb up and down, excruciatingly placing and removing each paw up the door, and then down the door.  This is when he also uses a louder yowl for emphasis.  Because apparently the sounds of claws ripping in and out of bug screen isn't annoying enough.

Now I am very aware that every time I get up to let him in or out, I reinforce this behaviour and embed it more deeply in his psyche, but I challenge anyone to ignore it.  Just to keep my illusion of power and dominance in check, if I can wake myself enough, I will grab him, walk to the cat door and push him through it (sometimes with more force than is probably necessary...).  I'm not sure he gets my point.  Or cares.

More rabbit

Purrkins is also a creature of great communication skills.  For one, he has the most expressive face and he cracks me up all the time.  That cat makes me laugh out loud at least once a day, and that's a slow day.  Purrkins is not a quiet meower.  He has a gruff, throaty voice which he uses constantly, from the great grunt that he makes jumping up or down off things (this may have to do with the weight of his belly and gravity?) to the constant chatter as he enters a room.  I love his vocalisations and sometimes we have great conversations, although I am stumped as to what my part is, but I play along.

Purrkins during a quiet moment....but
still communicating!

We have a saying in our house - if Purrkins wants a cuddle, he gets a cuddle.  You can't ignore a Purrkins when it wants a cuddle.  He will get on your lap with his squeaky loud purr and possibly with a bit of drool, madly making bread (usually on your semi-full bladder) and then flops down, all sweet and full of love.  And that's it, you are cuddling before you know it.

Purrkins soon after adoption letting his dad know
that he likes to hang out.

Purrkins has also conveyed his great disappointment with my off-key singing abilities by sitting up, staring at me and putting a paw on my mouth.  I mean really, where's the subtlety in that?

Purrkins is also my cling-on cat, my special Velcro cat, because he is always with me, and one of his favourite times to hang out is when I'm doing housework.  Weird, I know, but that's Purrkins.  Heaven forbid that I start cleaning toilets if he's outside.  He'll come out of a deep slumber when he hears me cleaning, and then decides that it's play time.  I know this because he starts running at full speed around the house, and skidding around corners on our floors.  If I don't come and chase him, he starts trilling and making high pitched sounds until I find what room he is in, waiting with great anticipation.  Then it's on and we start chasing each other around the house.  I always have to factor this into my housework.  I'll be honest, it's way better than scrubbing a toilet.

Purrkins using more of his communication skills.

Purrkins loves food more than Clawde does, and the sound of the fridge door opening or a plate being taken from the cupboard will bring him running from anywhere.  He doesn't need silly little pant-pulling antics like Clawde, he just tells me with his loud voice and a stare at the pantry or fridge door. Purrkins is all about using his voice.

I know it is painfully obvious that I love communicating with my cats.  I love the subtleties and enjoy the challenge of trying to figure out what they want or need.  When you get it right, it's a beautiful thing and just enriches the relationship even more.