Human harassment - is the answer exercising your human more?

Dear George,

As you already know, I celebrate my birthday on Victoria Day here in Canada because that was the day I showed up from nowhere in my human pet's garden.

This year they threw me a surprise birthday party; totally unexpected since the day started a bit rainy and grey, but by the afternoon it was sunny and nice! They invited some of my buddies but they invited some of their friends too.

George, how can I avoid unwanted attention? All their friends wanted to hold me, kiss, etc. And they all brought me colorful, little balls (as you can see in the picture).

That much for human imagination! What can I do with a dozen balls?

Do you think I should use them training the humans? Should I train them to fetch the balls?

CAT Victoria

Dear Victoria,

Your problem is a common one. Humans will harass cats. Picking us up, cuddling us, kissing us. It's good for them but some of us find it demeaning and many of us just downright hate it. What can we do about it? Well, we can wriggle. When we cats wriggle, we wriggle good. A powerful wriggle will simply extract us from this unwanted human behaviour. I called these unwanted human advances affectional harasssment.

Will giving them more to do help? Well sometimes it does. A bored human is a badly behaving human. They are terrible couch potatoes and giving them a good exercise regime will always help. Probably the best way to do this is to get their attention to a ball. They like playing games with toys. Walk up to them and look as if you are going to play fetch. When they throw the ball, you run after it but you don't pick it up. Then they will have to run after it to in order to pick it up and throw it again for you. They think they are giving you exercise but in reality you are giving them exercise. Sometimes humans are pretty dumb animals.

Training them to fetch small pieces of meat, prawns, and dried cat food is also a good idea! You are probably, without realising it, already doing this. I get their attention by rubbing round their legs,and putting on a particularly loving and expectant look on my face. I don't feel particularly loving: I often feel very impatient at their slowness to catch on to what I want. But it works

Keep up the good work. A trained human is a happier human.

George

How on earth can we get proper service?

Dear George,
I read your comments about your secretary's lack of efficiency with true fellow feeling. I have been very disillusioned by my humans' inadequate care taking. They are butler and housekeeper to me but are failing in their tasks. The food is not good - mostly supermarket special offers. I don't appreciate being fed cheap food. They have failed to fix the weather so that I have to go hunting in appalling conditions of rain and wind. And the butler has stopped opening the door for me in bad weather (just when I need to hover in the doorway deciding whether to go out). He claims I should use the cat flap.Worst of all, I overhead them talking of getting another cat. I am considering terminating their employment by finding a new home. There is a promising old lady down the road. She's not as rich as they are, but she looks the type to buy me the best even if it means she has to eat cheap human offers herself.
Yours disgustedly
Gorgeous Ginger.

Dear Ginger,
Staff are always a difficulty. The below-stairs species (to borrow a metaphore from Downton Abbey) really can't think like we do. They just don't have the education and intelligence. It has always been a mystery to me why humans gorge themselves on exciting meals, different each day of the week, and expect us to eat the same kind of cat biscuits day after day. Moreover, they spend a great deal more on their meals than ours. They eat roast beef or grilled pork chop but where is the fresh roasted mouse or grilled rat for us?

(The difficulties with my secretary have persisted. Today as I was penning (I like the old idea of cat with posh fountain pen in paw) this blog, all contact with the ISP was lost. The helpline merely said "Your call is important to us" and then promptly cut me off. I coudn't even leave an offended MIAOW. Of course, all this is a human invention so one couldn't expect it to work...)
Which brings me to weather. Why can't they fix it. Less time spent simpering on the TV while pointing to ridiculous items that look like poached eggs (sun peeping through a cloud apparently) might help them concentrate on what really matters. We cats like control and we expect our humans to extend this control to the weather. I don't know about you but I find it positively offensive to have to sit at the open door trying to decide if it is worth going out.
That moment, of course, is when proper service by the door person really matters. Yet they object. "Why do I have to open the door for you when you have a perfectly good cat flap" says Ronnie or Celia. Why? Because that is what they are there for. You don't hire a doorkeeper and then expect to have to open the cat door yourself. I like to stroll over to the open door, sit there for a bit possibly with my paws one side and my tail the other, and then look up at the doorkeeper and go back inside. You can see that it riles them!
As for another cat. Why on earth do they think we want another cat?Why should we? Some of us are total loners, and most of us are very suspicious of intruding unknown cats. I get onwith some cats andI don't get on with others. Yet my human tends to think that I would happy with just any old cat. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It's an individual thing. We are not promiscuous socialisers like humans. We cats have standards.

Rehome yourself, Ginger. That old lady sounds very promising.

Yours George

Does my tum look big on this floor? STS - the truth.

Dear George,
My name is Tom-Tom and I live in a lovely flat in Paris. I am very, very affectionate and always welcome everyone who comes to visit me. I stay with my friend, Mimi when my mum goes away and we generally get on very well but she won't let me share her croquettes because she says I am too fat. You can see she is warning me off in this picture which I feel is a bit mean. Do you think she should let me share her food?
Love,
Paris-Tom-Tom.

Dear Tom-Tom,
We cats call this STS, or Saggy Tummy Syndrome. It is an increasingly common side effect of natural human adoration. In an attempt to please us, our devotees cannot say no. They will go to any lengths to do what we want. It is gratifying. Very gratifying and, of course, natural.
Your delightful photo shows the results - the little (well not so little) pink love handles at the back of the body, the absence of "waist" or the area after the rib cage which should curve inwards up to the inner thigh). The extra weight is not evenly distributed (our humans know about that!) so the head and the paws and the tail all look unduly slim in comparison. And the bigger the belly, the less we want to move around - all that weight makes exercise hard work.
No croquettes. No. Not a single crumb of them.
Of course, I blame your human. (We cats always do). She is your enabler. But it is up to you to initiate change. Send her off to the vet (sorry, Tom-Tom) for a weigh-in and a large packet of prescription food. Don't let her forget the dispenser, usually a transparent cup with measurements on it. You might even purrsuade her to buy some baby scales. These are good at weighing cats. I am adding photo of Pushkin on his scales. You will find that if she places a little food on the scales, you will find it worth your while to sit on them.
Frankly, Tom-tom you need more exercise and it is your human's responsibility to help you get it. She must start making your appartement life more interesting by hiding your food so you have to run round the place to find it. There are also food dispensing balls she could make or make her own from an old loo roll and sticky paper. And she can just throw food for you. No more just putting it in a bowl. It might also be worth your while to learn some tricks.
I heard from Fatty Pushkin the other day (his letter was in January). He is in his new home - still slimming down, still doing his interesting tricks of jumping over human legs and sitting up to do a high five. And his new pet human is taking him for walks on a lead. He is still FIV positive so cannot live at large. Take encouragement from him, Tom-Tom and start the slimming programme.
Love
George

Is coffee addictive for cats? Is it safe?

Dear George,
Last time I wrote you (if you recall) my female human tried to match her hair color to my eyes color. It didn’t work very well since she …naturally has blue eyes and having her hair in shades of blue…it wasn’t the best choice. So, this time she did her hair to match my …..hair! Aha! That’s right; her hair is beige with darker/brownish points! She really impressed me! To show my appreciation I start keeping her company while she was having her morning coffee!
Soon enough I was very much interested in WHAT was in her cup and she let me inspect! That’s how we started sharing a cup of coffee in the morning as you can see in the picture! I start drinking her coffee and I can tell she was worried but…I LOVE COFFEE! George, coffee has the same effect on me as catnip has on other cats – see the second picture! The other day I knocked-off the coffee maker trying to get to some coffee. George, I CAN KILL for an ESPRESSO! Do you think I’m coffee addict?
Is this serious? Should I check in a rehab? What do you think? Should I stop?
Tom


Dear Tom
Please retrain your owner! Coffee isn't good for cats. The caffeine in it can make them hyperactive. A very useful article on dangers to cats from human food is available from Sarah Hartwell, an expert veterinarian, on http://www.messybeast.com/bad-foods.htm There's another article about home poisons (without mentioning coffee) on www.fabcats.org
We cats are attracted to milk but even on its own that isn't good for many of us. We get diarrhoea from it. Pusskin, the fat cat who wrote in earlier this year, had a really dirty bottom due not just being too fat to reach it but, we think, probably from being given milk. Milk and fish diets were only given to cats because in the nineteenth century they were cheap. A diet of either on its own is not good for cats. But a century ago most cats went out mousing and supplemented the food given by humans anyway.
We cats are obligate carnivores, meaning that our whole digestive system is geared towards not meat, but the flesh, bone, skin and gut contents in the full carcases of mice, rats, small birds and a few insects such as locusts. (Not many of those here in Oxfordshire, alas, even in a good summer. Just a few tiny grasshoppers. I rather fancy trying the crunch of a locust - like pork crackling without the salt.) Unlike dogs, who are designed to be scavengers and eat decaying meat, or humans who are omnibores designed for meat and veg, we cats are designed for whole mice/birds only. We lack one of the liver enzymes which helps dogs and humans cope with getting rid of difficult substances from the body. We can be poisoned by aspirin, for instance, or other drugs that are safe for humans.
Recreational drugs? Yes, do catnip. Cats enjoy it and (with more sense than humans) are moderate users who know when to stop. So do catnip all you like. But don't do coffee. And stop your human enabling you by offfering it.
Tell her to buy some nice cat milk, specially formulated without the ingredient which causes tummy upsets, and give you some of that at breakfast. Of course, it's nice for humans to share breakfast with a cat. Humans have some sort of need to share, a need that we cats don't have. If she wants to share, she can drink some of the cat milk. Why not?
Love George.
PS. Tell her with purrs rather than claws. Any owner who dyes her hair to match her cat is a gem. And thank her for allowing me to use this letter. It is so helpful to get the message out there.

What I want for Christmas by Vincent Brown

Dear George,
Reverting to Christmas presents. I think it might be wise to let all kindly people know what I really want. To avoid disappointment on either side.
I do NOT want the following items:
* Bells and squeaky toys. No. I am deaf.
* Catnip. No. It leaves me cold
* Scratching posts. No. I have an adequate supply of curtains, carpets, furniture and wallpaper.
* Pussycat pellets. No. I give these to the Cat Next Door (and may they choke him).
But please choose from the following selection:
* Chicken, raw or roasted.
* Kippers, boned.
* Salmon, fresh or smoked or as Manuka pate.
* Slivers from the joint
* Cream Fur ball medicine (for some reason delicious)
* Yoghurt, plain.
* Mild cheddar and perhaps a little Brie.
And maybe a length of string or a rumple of paper, a dangle or baubles, and ping pong balls. I know full well that most of the above comestibles are banned. But just for once. Just a smidgeon. Just for Christmas Day.
Thanking you from the bottom of my heart,
Vincent.

Dear Vincent,
Interesting letter which I find mildly disturbing. It suggests that you wait to be given these items by your owner, Pam. Why? I have found that this is not a good idea, where human beings are involved. The species does not share. They say cats are selfish but there is nothing more selfish than a human. Normally they think in terms of giving stuff that either they think you will like but you won't (silly new beds, expensive toys that are too heavy to move, etc) or even stuff they think is good for you (organic cat treats, tooth brushes, horrid spikey brushes). You must move on to new ways of thinking....
Christmas offers interesting food items to take. Notice, I say take. Do not wait to be given. Think cat burglar rather than cat beggar. Not only are there the normal pieces of food dropped on the floor, but there are also large food items left unguarded. Keep an eye out for the smoked salmon waiting on the plates for the starter course. If you walk casually and quietly into the food area, you may find that these are just there. Hop on the table and help yourself.
On the kitchen surface, people put down food like hot turkey, cold turkey, sausages (cold and hot), little meaty nibbles for humans, fishy nibbles for other humans, little bits of spilled gravey and spilled goose fat. Then there is that old standby - the butter. Butter always tastes good. Humans use it lavishly and I have never understood why they are so mean minded that they often cover it up so that we can't get the slightest taste. They wouldn't miss just a little lick or two of it.
Now is the time to expand your idea of food. French cheese often comes in sort of squidgey, creamy forms like Brie. There is a kind of ground up meat called pate which tastes very good indeed and is easy to lick off the plate. Not forgetting cream, brandy butter, custard, and yoghurt. Don't wait to be asked. Don't wait to be given. Just go for it.
My motto, when considering humans, is what's thine is mine and what's mine is my own.
Happy Christmas
George.
Don't forget the tree. It's quite good fun to spray on it. Mark it as your own

Ideas for things to do in the kitchen

Dear George,
I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. In the winter here in the UK it is the warmest place in the house. I'm really a little feline homebody. It is also - obviously - the best place to be when food is being prepared. Luckily my owner doesn't worry about stopping me going on the food preparation areas. My main enjoyments are a) vacuuming up any fragments of food, b) enjoying the warmth of the Aga, c) making sure I know what is going on in the house (most action takes place in the kitchen). What else could I be doing.
Baby the Birman

Dear Baby,
Me too. Love the kitchen. Warmth and food. But I think you are being a bit unimaginative. Here are some ideas on how to enjoy it even more.
1. Use the sink. Have you looked at www.catsinsinks.com It's an idiotic website but strangely alluring. I particularly enjoy the photos of two cats trying to cram into the one sink. I put my picture into it but I have never seen it come up as I trawl through. This website shows that sinks are a nice place to sleep. But they are also good for games with water. Study the drips. Intercept them with your paw. Or just refuse to drink except from a running tap.
2. Take an interest in food preparation. The cutting board is of particular interest. After your human has cut up fish or meat, take a look There's usually just enough left there to lick up a few tasty fragments. Try to intervene before she washes it. Hygeine interferes with our enjoyment.
3. The kitchen table. If your human entertains in her kitchen, as now many do, it's fun to embarass her by jumping up in the middle of a meal. "She's not allowed to do this," your human will say - often a blatant lie. I sit next to my human when she is eating, and see if I cannot deflect a fork full of food from her mouth to mine! Sometimes works. Especially if I make her laugh.
4. The kitchen windowsill. That's usually a good place to look out. Useful for indoor-only cats.
Got to dash. I can hear lunch being prepared... I hope other cats will come up with more ideas
George

How do you teach humans proper Cat English?

Dear George,
I’m an 18 years old cat (almost 19) and I’ve always lived (quite happily) with my male human and his best friend, Zack – a German Sheppard. Last summer…not only that this woman moved in…but she brought along two little Boston Terriers – her dogs. I was quite surprised of this move, since I couldn’t see what her role would be in our household. I watched her for a while and came to the conclusion that definitely she couldn’t be our new housekeeper since she didn’t even cook, she couldn’t be a “bodyguard” since we had Zack….so, what was she doing in here?
One night I’ve heard my male human introducing her to his friends as HIS WIFE. What wife? Is he crazy? Since when does he need a wife and what for? George, tell me why on earth do men bring home their wives? We, cats, don’t! If we feel like getting a wife….we go out, have fun for a week or so and, then we kiss goodbye “our wife”, we don’t bring her home. We won’t lose our independence over a heart matter, right? Anyway, from that moment on…..my problems just started.
So, first thing she said? “I’m allergic to cats” – ya! buddy, lucky you! I made sure that I always slept on top of her head with my paws “lovingly” wrapped around her eyes.
I was ecstatic seeing her suffering (but, I have to give her credit that she did so in silence). Second thing she said? “There are rules in this house – why this cat doesn’t have to respect any of them?” What? Is she kidding me? Obviously, she doesn’t know that “cats rule the house”. But….my biggest problem is that she doesn’t understand Cat English! See, at the beginning I thought she’s giving me some cattitude!
I like to have my breakfast early in the morning and served at room temperature. So, first time (after she moved in) when I ordered my breakfast…..she didn’t even blink! I started being more and more vocal and loud – nothing! I’ve seen her panicking and asking herself: “what does this cat want”? At that time, my male human was already at work. See…I always make sure he’s not around when I do this. I was enjoying watching her running erratically throughout the house, not knowing what to do. But, then, it just struck me; not that she’s a bad person or having some sort of cattitude but….she doesn’t understand me when I’m talking to her! SHE DOESN’T SPEAK CAT ENGLISH!
So, here is my question to you, dear George; “how can I train her in proper Cat English”?
I mean, do you know of any books? I know these days these kids are all into computers, internet, Ipods, etc…..but I’m too old for all this. Is there any old, good method to teach? As you very well know…humans’ intelligence is quite limited (as is their vocabulary) They are not sophisticated beings as we, cats, are. My guess is that she is not very skilled at languages since the only language she speaks is …..dog English!
George, how did you train Celia? I can see that not only she understands all your orders…..but she’s good at typing your advice as well. Do you dictate to her or you give her written notes? May be I shall start carrying around little “written notes” like little flags (hopefully she’ll associate words with sounds).
With much hope,
Sebastian

Dear Sebastian,
Don't get me started on the human sex life. They are revolting. No proper times and seasons. Just up for it all the time. Can't decide whether they are monogamous or promiscuous. Confused... that is what their sexuality is. No idea that the proper decent thing to do is wait till the proper time, then go out and get it, as many times and as many matings as possible so as to have a nice little genetically varied bunch of kittens. Poor humans.
But can they speak cat English? There's a huge controversy in the cat world about whether humans understand language at all. They vocalise a lot. But they don't seem to understand the language of scent or feline body language. Dogs catch on to both fast, but though they are intellectually limited compared with cats, they are not as dumb as humans. Cats have tried to train humans using exaggerated body language or exaggerated scent messages (spraying in the house) and there are some signs that the former may work with some humans. But scent language seems beyond them. (The strange thing is that humans are trying to teach chimpanzees to use human vocalisation! Odd species, aren't they?).
As a start I suggest you get my book, One Hundred Ways for a Cat to Train its Human (details on www.celiahaddon.com). It tells you how I trained Celia. Then start working with really simple instructions. My feeling is that you will get on better if you give up the idea that she can properly understand. Personally I think we attribute understanding to humans, when they are simply observing us carefully and interacting in a relatively unthinking way on the basis of simple learning - operant conditioning, as it is called. They do what works but they don't actually have mental concepts as we do - there's a bit about this, Fat Ada's canon, on the right hand side of this blog in red..
So just concentrate on simple human training - with reward and punishments. When you have established the right human behaviour, you can stop rewarding every time and put your rewards (purrs and rubs) on a variable schedule. This is known as intermittent reinforcement and works better in the long run that giving rewards every time. A bit like treat 'em mean (or a little mean) and keep 'em keen.
Best of luck, Sebastian. Remember, humans are happier when they are properly trained.
George

Help! I just can't live with my adolescent daughter.

Dear George,

I had kittens a year ago. I have now been spayed but having kittens was a mistake for me. It all went well. There were six of them and five of them went off to new homes. But, alas, my human kept one of the females back. There are now to of us in the house and we don't get on. I spend most of my time outside, even in the cold weather, because my adolescent daughter is larger than me and a bit of a bully. What can I do? 

Beauty

Dear Beauty,

This is the result of humans thinking we cats are like them. (Luckily for our pride and dignity we are not!). Or worse still they think we are like dogs, always looking for other dogs to play with and desperately in need of doggy pals.

Fundamentally at the heart of most of us cats is a solitary hunter. We don't share. We don't pack. Some cats can live with their relatives but many can't. Actually humans often find out that living with a teenager is hard work, so it is ridiculous for them to assume we are so family minded that they can just assume we want to live with our relatives without asking us. Would your human like to live with her grown up daughter? Or her mother?

If you were living in the wild, you (or your daughter) would just move on and live in seperate territories unless there was only one place of shelter. That would be the natural way of life but humans have never grasped that they are asking us to live in very artificial surroundings. As it is, you are stuck with her. Have a careful think about the house facilities. If she is sleeping on the bed, could you find room in the spare bedroom, for instance? 

Could you persuade your human to put down two feeding locations so that you can eat in peace without having to be near each other. Probably not.  Humans get stuck in behaviour patterns and are not willing to change. They imagine we like eating side by side. We don't. We wouldn't be eating our mice side by side. We cats eat privately if we live wild. Luckily you obviously have a cat flap so you needn't share the litter tray with her.

The other obvious way out of this problem is to start visiting the neighbours. This is particularly important in winter. If you can find a suitable human, who will provide good food and has enough heating in the house, this may be the moment to re-home yourself. Plenty of cats do this. Or you can compromise and simply spend most of the day with the neighbour just coming home at night. Timesharing your company with another human might work out well.

George

PS No advice for a bit. My secretary is going away for two weeks to visit her brother. She certainly couldn't live with him for longer than a week or two without quarrelling.

Strange food enjoyed by cats.

   Dear George

On the food issue. I have my preferences. My humans give me sardines packed in water from time to time. They HATE the smell but I LOVE it. I just don't like the spine so I leave it. My human doesn't like fish but was going to try the cat fish because they were processed and packed in the US. She just couldn't get over the fact they are scavenger fish so I got them and here is a photo to prove it! I also like salmon. I also eat scrambled eggs and I especially like baby rabbits. What are your food preferences?

    Oscar King of Tidewater (http:simpleandsouthern.blogspot.com)

I love the photo, Oscar. Glad to see you have pushed the humans out of the bed altogether. Make them sleep on the bottom near your toes! That's what they do to us.

As for food, I like a change. Give me a different kind of cat food and I will eat it with relish just because it is new. Give me the same kind of cat food which I have been eating for days and I will eat it - but not so much. Those cunning people at Waltham foods and Iams know that, which is why they make cat food in different flavours. The more we eat, the better their business.

But back to favourites. Simpkin used to eat the end of asparagus tips. Fat Ada liked the batter on fish and chips better than the fish inside it. William refuses to eat human food at all but is balmy for the large sized Science diet kibble given on prescription for cats with bad teeth. He will also eat wet wholemeal bread put out for the birds -- something he would turn his nose up at if offered in his cat bowl. 

Skink, a rescue cat from Cyprus, used to lick the toothpaste out of the mouth of his owners - and they sent a photo to prove it. This has to be the oddest food preference ever. Probably not a good idea but then why should we cats listen to human opinions on this or any other matter?

Jellied eels is what used to help Castle and used to turn on Furry Fighter (http://thefurryfighter.blogspot.com - but be prepared for tears) . Her human has pointed out the wonderful news for cat that there is now REAL DRIED MICE! Just go to http://www.petextras.com/pofdmo21gr.html Rejoice, rejoice you cats. George of the crew (http://crewsviews.blogspot.com) has offered the mice in his basement for any needy cats. Who says that cats are not altruistic! Please add your comments, all you cats out there. 

 George

PS. I am horribly ignored by Celia back from college working obsessively on an essay about r and K selection. She would going to feature the lifestyle of feral cats but they are fed up with her cat obsession at college and say she will have to write about something else. So she is doing the rabbit - I approve though my own interests are more gastronomic than ecological when it comes to bunnies.

How do you train your human to buy the right cat food?

Dear George,

I was brought up on Gourmet cat food, one of the more expensive and delicious kinds. That's what I eat. That's what I like. But I am currently stuck here in cat rescue being fed an inferior food. There's plenty of it, which is good. And it is perfectly nutritious. But I don't feel it is up the standard I am used to. So I worry about my next home. How am I going to make it clear to my new humans, that they have got to get out to the supermarket, ignore the tins, ignore the inferior envelopes on special offer, and buy this particular brand. Have you faced the same dilemma. Can other cats help with training tips?

Florence

Dear Florence,

This is the classic dilemma facing all us cats. We can't buy our own cat food. We have to accept what humans buy for us. This is a serious difficulty and yet, if you were a human looking at the huge variety of cat food available on the supermarket shelves, it would be obvious that cats rule in this area. We don't eat just anything - unless we are starving strays. We train our humans to get what we want. All training tips are welcome in the comments area.

The principles of all human training are to ignore bad behaviour and reward good. This is reward training practised by all good trainers. Punishment has a part in the cat-human relationship but only because we enjoy it not because it is superior to reward training. For most training, rewards, not punishments, are most effective. And, if you think about this, this is a tricky area. We have to train a human to leave the house, go to the supermarket, ignore the special offers, pass by the cheaper brands, buy the right expensive brand and pay for it. Yet we do it. What an amazing feline feat.

If the principles of reward training are followed through you must reward your human for buying the right food. Move to the food dish smartly, eat ravenously (at least the first bit), purr loudly while eating (yes it is possible) and, if you can handle it, knead as well as purring while eating. Most humans recognise purring and kneading as signs of pussycat happiness (well, they are almost right). That is the reward bit of the food training ritual.

The second bit is to ignore bad behaviour. Here you go to the food bowl, sniff disdainfully, look up imploringly at your human and move away. Just don't eat it. Not the tiniest scrap. Do this several times during the day. If you have trained your human to respond to you by leading it to the bowl, do this several times a day. The message is clear. You need food. But this is not the food you can eat.

A further training mode variation on this is to go up to the bowl, sniff disdainfully giving the human your best imploring look, Then treat the food as if it is litter. Paw it as if hiding a lump of you know what. If the bowl is a plastic one, tip the food out of the bowl and hide it under the bowl. Clear message. I think this food is s..t!

What if I am really hungry, you ask. Be firm. Don't eat it. Don't weaken. Training a human requires true consistency and persistence. Leave a minimum of 6 hours  before eating any of it - preferably 12 hours. They won't hold out, I assure you. They never do.

 If you are really really hungry lick up the gravy and leave the solid bits. All of them. But it will take much longer to train your human if you weaken.

 George

A word about me....

I am interrupting my normal business of answering questions from other cats, in order to tell you cats out there about me. It is part of a Meme tag game played by my US counterpart, George, and the rest of the crew. (Wow, that is my first link in text!). 

I hope I am playing the game correctly by doing this. My secretary, Celia, is only half competant with the blog format - something I find very embarassing. I keep her on because I don't have the heart to fire her. I am sure many of you cats will share my mixed feelings about my human - I love her, but I do wish she was a bit brighter.

My agony column exists to share with other cats these conflicts of emotion and the real conflicts of interest that we cats have with our humans. Being a human owner takes real commitment. We have to put up with their clumsiness, the inability to sense our true feelings (all that picking up and cuddling when we want to get on with other more important things), and, of course, their ridiculous idea that they own us. Deluded creatures in total denial.

I have added one of my favourite pictures of myself. You may notice that I am black. Black is beautiful, say I. Here in the UK black is also lucky as in lucky black cat. I am here looking at a dragonfly (out of the frame so I have added a small picture of it below) with a view to slaughtering it and then crunching it up. The garden pond has many of these brightly coloured insects and the larger ones make an enticing chitinous noise with their wings. They don't taste very good but the texture is delightful - like pork crackling cut thin enough for a feline to crunch up.

My day starts with waking up Celia at the time of my choosing. Usually that is 6.30am. Her timetable starts at 7.30am which is why I have to go through the bother of waking her. She's particularly difficult to wake at weekends. Indeed she is lucky to be allowed on my bed. She takes up a horrifying amount of room, she breathes and snores very loudly indeed, and keeps changing position trying to find more room for her legs. In some ways I wish I had trained her to use the sofa downstairs but when I first arrived in the house I was a kitten and unable to anticipate the fact that I would need more space.

The rest of my day goes like this - get up, eat food out of bowl, go out, patrol territory and hunt, come back, eat food out of bowl, sleep, go out, patrol and hunt, come back, eat food out of bowl and sleep - repeated numerous times. Occasionally I pause to greet the family - maybe wake Ronnie when he is having his afternoon nap, jump on Celia's word processor or press the keyboard. That sort of thing. Just to show the humans that they matter to me.

And once a week I answer queries about human behaviour from other cats. I would like more of them particularly those reflecting on the silly side of humanity.

Here is my me-me. I've just seen another of those very large dragonflies flitting by so I must go now.  

A COMMUNICATION FROM THE HON. MISS RUBY FOO

Greetings Underlings!
We are please to communicate with you and inform of the momentous events that have overtaken one in recent days. Having been callously evicted from one's Oxford lodgings by persons who failed to heed one's lineage, we found ourselves in deeply distressing circumstances.
We feel it appropriate to drawl a veil of discretion over this period of our existence, but suffice it to say it involved a thankfully brief encounter with local male of the low, working class variety. We consider this momentary association to be of a painful memory, as were its consequences. We consider it would be wiser for all concerned if one "moved on", as the contemporary term would have it.
Followng the "incident", one was graciously aided by the kindly offices of a human from an admirable organisation the purpose of which is the rescue of members of my species who have fallen upon hard and distressing times.
Following a period of recuperation in comfortable quarters, one allowed oneself to be transported to a new place of residence set in the heart of the Oxfordshire Cotswolds. If one is to voice a small criticism of this journey it is in regard to the condition of the conveyance used. We found it a battered and aged mechanial brougham, one that had clearly seen better days. Those of one's background are more used to transportation of a more stately nature. However, we will let it pass.
The new place of residence proved both comfortable and one's new servants, a Mr and Mrs Callan (married couples are always so much better, don't you think?), are amiable and kindly. Mrs Callan, in particular, is affectionate and gentle of touch. Mr Callan is similar, although one wishes he would desist from making what he, doubtless, considers is a Siamese cat call. But that is a small matter
We also greatly commend the food offered in the new abode. This included a choice of gourmet meals and, on several occasions, carefully sliced breast of chicken. We were greatly encouraged by such kind treatment and felt that, following our aforementioned unpleasantaries, would prove a residence worthy of our presence.
The only drawback to this residence is that there is clear evidence of other, and lesser, members of my species. Further investigation has revealed that one, is known locally as "Gorgeous George". He is, one cannot be fail to observe, a bit of a thug who boasts of his violence to other species and is a self confessed drug user - sniffing not injecting, he claims. We could not help but feel certain qualms about the possibilities of fights, corpses in the shrubbery, the thumping sound of rap music, noisy, late night parties, and the wafting smell of catnip.
His companion, however, seems to be a friendly tabby and white gentleman known as William. He is what one believes in popularly known as an "old buffer" with white whiskers, of the kind to be seen snoozing in the afternoons at the Cat Traveller's Club. One shall, needless to say, keep a dignified distance from both these gentlemen, in particular the one called George.
Following another journey in the unsuitable vehicle, we found ourselves in another residence from which there was no view of the countryside and which is, one believes, known as "an apartment". Sadly, our nerves being somewhat frayed, we have yet to fully adjust to our second set of new surroundings.
At present, we have taken refuge behind what one believes is called the "built-in kitchen unit" and will only emerge for nourishment and other personal requirements until such time as one's confidence returns.
Dated this nineteenth Day of July, Two thousand and seven.
(Signed) The Hon.Ruby Foo

The female prisoner next door ... William writes

She did it again. Banged us up without mercy for several days. George, for whom I have little time, behaved a bit better this time. He seemed more resigned and spent less time involving me in unworkable silly escape plans that would have made my life in prison even worse than it was. I didn't have to bite Gill the Cattery once, because he didn't set me up to it like last time.
George spent most of his time prancing up and down striking attitudes to impress the white and black cat next door. She seemed pretty unimpressed, I thought. She was bigger - and fatter- than him. I think he found it difficult to accept that a female wasn't interested. Obviously we are all - me, George and her, neutered and therefore on the side lines of the sex war. But there is a frisson of sexuality none the less.
She seemed more impressed by me, I thought. Something in the way she would stretch up full length when she saw me. Some females fancy the older tom. We are calmer, more tolerant, less reactive. I let George strutt his adolescent stuff which included some very rude goggling. I concentrated on more sophisticated eye contact. I didn't stare. Staring is bad mannered as all cats (and a few knowledgeable humans) know. I just did a quick eye flash and then lowered them, as if to say "I am the sort of cat that might be friendly, if you played your cards right." I think we came to an understanding - distant but warm.
There was another neighbour cat. I didn't think much of him. He had a moustache like Hitler. But I must let George have his say.

Escape plans

William and I have been doing some serious planning while we are banged up. We dropped the idea of building a Trojan Mouse (hoping that Gill The Cattery Owner would take it home with both of us inside it). There were two major problems. One was just the problem of how to make it. Cat biscuits obviously weren't going to be as easy as planks and nails. They wouldn't really stick together. I tried chewing and spitting out a few, to see if they made a kind of glue. They didn't. The other problem, a graver one, was the humiliation we both would feel, having to cower inside a hollow Mouse. OK, so it would be a Trojan mouse, designed as an escape unit for prisoners. But it would still be an assault on our dignity as cats.
We have dropped the idea. Even as prisoners, we felt our dignity should be preserved. They cannot take that away from us. And moreover, we have eaten all the cat biscuits placed before us, and the cooked coley for lunch, and the tinned stuff and the large biscuits which are good for our teeth and anything else set before us. The only bright spot in our days here is the food and we eat heartily to keep up our strength for further escapes. It is our duty to do so. The food is quite different from what we get at home and we relish it. We may have to work on Celia's shopping choices if we ever make it out of here.
William spent the first two days hiding in the litter box. He said he wasn't hiding. He claimed it was an undercover strategy to make Gill The Cattery Owner take pity of him and get him out of here. If it was a strategy, he blew it. When she was combing his ruff, which is coming out in chunks, he bit her yesterday. That has put an end to any hope of his appealing to her better nature. She has noticeably cooled towards him.
So it was left to me. Charm the birds off tree, I thought. Use the smarm'n'charm strategy. I wound myself round her ankles. Looked up appealingly. Rubbed against her. Chirruped. Tried sliding out of the door as she opened it. Wiggled my attractive whiskers. No luck. Nothing worked. The struggle for freedom will continue!

Get me out of here...... from prisoner, cell block G.

Help.....
I am imprisoned in a small cell somewhere in the Midlands. I was betrayed utterly by my so-called friend Celia. Judas I call her. I was having an enjoyable time hanging round the hedgerows, thinking of nabbing another rabbit or perhaps a pheasant or just a nice young rat, when she called me. She called me and I, trusting her completely, came. I walked into her arms. She picked me up, stuffed me in the cat box, and drove me off, with William in the other box.
At first I thought it was just the vet. Just the vet. Just the pain of being stabbed and the horror of the surgery. But it was much much worse. She thrust me into a prison cell. With my cellmate, William, we have been locked up behind bars. We are completely and utterly shattered by the betrayal. She just walked away.....
Me and William are considering various escape plans. Perhaps we could start building a Trojan mouse out of old cat biscuits - if we hadn't eaten them all.

My very own take away bird bar

Celia has installed a take away bird bar for me in the garden. It was never very well designed because the lure-feeders are too high but otherwise it worked more or less OKl. Scores of little birds arrived there and it was up to me to choose which ones to eat. Because of the design fault, I couldn't reach the high up ones, but a lot of the bait falls on the grass, which was my killing ground. Obviously no birds ventured there when I sat below in full sight but I enjoyed just looking sometimes - staying, as it were, in the first stage of the hunting sequence which is eye, stalk, pounce, grab, tear off feathers, eat.
Ordinary food in a bowl is just the last bit of the sequence and while satisfying hunger leaves all the other parts of the sequence not done. So just eating the food in the house leaves me filled but unfulfilled, so to speak.
So back to the take-away bird bar in the garden. When I was not just looking by sitting underneath, I used the shrubs for the hide before real hunting thrill. I sat in them and eyed the birds. I chose one, I did the stalk and bottom wiggle, then I sprang out, ran in and grabbed one before taking it in and tearing off the feathers on the carpet in the house, then ate it. I used to leave a little bit - perhaps a claw or a beak - for Mr Manners. Good fun.
But lately Celia has overdone the challenge. She had already put the feeders too high for me but yesterday she placed scrumpled up wire netting under the shrubs so that it interfered with my ability to do the run in. Now I run in up against the wire. That woman has not got any common sense. She's well meaning and I appreciate her thoughtfulness in taking the trouble to build the take-away installation. But she's now got the whole thing wrong. I can't reach the take-aways.

Cats one: humans nil.

Well it didn't take long. In the battle of wits between human and cat, it was always going to be a human defeat. But I thought Celia would hold out longer. She caved in after only 24 hours. No more roasted bits were served. She upgraded to the pate type food - not my favourite but acceptable for the time being. The sachets of roasted bits were taken away to be put in the Cats Protection unwanted food bin at the vets. Rather like handing out scraps of food to the poor in Victorian times. They will be properly grateful for them, poor strays.
How did I do it? Well the picture shows how. I simply tipped my unwanted roasted bits into the water bowl. Neat, eh? I have to confess I licked up the gravy first. A sign of weakness, I know, but not weakness that mattered in the overall strategy. Celia came down to find the bits deposited in the water. When I don't like something I usualy rake up the floor round the unwanted items in my bowl. Some humans call this caching food and say I am trying to hide them, as a kind of storage to eat later. I don't dispute it's an instinctive thing but it's not about storing the food for later. Oh no. It is about disposing of it in a litter tray way. If food is shit, then I bury it. Only this time with a deft backhander of a handsome black paw, I upped the bowl so that it fell in the water tray. Rather skillful, I thought.
William came up trumps too. I don't say he acted out of solidarity because that dog-like behaviour would be demeaning for any cat. He ate one of the two bowls of roasted bits left down over night. But then he sicked it up on the living room carpet.
The day has started well. Cats one: humans nil.

Felix roasted bits - it's war between me and my human

More Felix roast bits. I don't like them. I will eat the gravy around them but I don't like the bits themselves. So I eat the gravy and then William, who is less fussy than I am, eats the bits or at least some of them. At the moment there are two half eaten bowls of this particular Felix. Visible evidence that I don't like them at all and William doesn't much care for them either. Now it is a battle of wills. Me against Celia. She bought them on special offer. Cheapskate behaviour. She didn't save on her free range roast chicken by buying a special offer frozen one from Thailand. Why buy my food on special offer? And why were they on special offer in the first place?. I think I know why. They just don't taste as good as the more expensive Felix food.
If William had a greater sense of solidarity with me, we could present a united front against her. Then there would be two bowls of roasted bits minus any of the gravy just sitting there. Alas, he has eaten some of them. Of course if he had a sense of solidarity with fellow felines he wouldn't be a cat. He'd be a dumb stupid dog with too much altruism for his own good. We cats don't do the pack perversion bit. We have the selfish gene. (Well dogs have the selfish gene too but it is routed via their altruism - great for wolf packs, not so great for Labradors, poor saps.) So I can't rely on William to hold firm any more than he could rely on me.
What I can rely on is my own inner persistence. If there's one thing we cats pride ourselves on, it is persistence. Humans don't know the meaning of it. Celia has never sat waiting at a hole for a mouse for two hours in wind and rain. She gives up when something doesn't work and tries something different.
So if it's war of waiting over the Felix roasted bits, I think I can hold out longer. Maybe I can't win today. I notice she has failed to fill up the bowl of dried food which I have been eating in preference to the roasted bits. She thinks she is going to be firm. But I know she isn't going to be. Sometimes tomorrow, or the next day, she will weaken. Watch this space.

I have been stabbed.... cat abuse at the vet's.

I am spitting with indignation, hissing with rage and still shuddering with fear. My beautiful black pads are wet with anxiety. I am NOT happy at all. Humans seem to think they can do anything, anything at all, to us. The only reason why I didn't launch into instant reprisal was that she was much bigger than I am and (shame on her) Celia was on her side. Indeed it was she who put me through this awful ordeal. She has betrayed our friendship.
It started with the cat box. I often sleep in mine and Celia puts little goodies in it for me to discover. So when she threw some nice food into it, I naturally went in without thinking twice. She whisked up the box and put it in the car and drove off. I shrieked with indignation, of course, but she took no notice. Obviously I tried to dig my way out but even when I had crawled under the furry lining, I could not break out.
When the car came to a stop, it became worse. She took me into a room smelling of misery and pain and disinfectant and (of all things) dogs and other strange and intruding cats. I was horrified. A couple of the female humans there looked vaguely familiar from the days when they cuddled me as a kitten. I wasn't in the mood for social niceties so I ignored them both. Besides, they smelled horrible too. There was a lot of human vocalisations and I got taken into a room, rooted out of my cat box, and forced to submit to handling harassment from the human vet. Veterinary surgeon my tail and ears. More like a thug of the worst kind. She stabbed me with a needle inflicting bodily harm on an innocent animal. I HATE this vet woman. I hope she is tortured by a thousand rat bites, smothered by a herd of rabbits, bitten by a very large dog, or just mauled by a big cat, big enough to make her feel as angry and fearful as I do.
And Celia needn't think that a few cat treats will make me feel better. I ate them but she is a Judas of the worst kind.

If only I shopped for my own cat food.....

If I chose my own cat food, I would settle for tinned mouse. In jelly, I think rather than gravy. Goujons of mouse in aspic would be delicious. Maybe occasional tinned sparrow breasts or even smoked sparrows with a jus d'oiseux. Or perhaps dried extruded rat biscuits in a box with a few savoury dried rabbit biscuits included. Then as treats, raw mouse tails or even dried mouse tails. The tails could be individually wrapped and sold like After Eights, for the end of a meal. After I have eaten a mouse (head first to make sure the fur is smoothed down not ruckered up), I rather like crunching up the tail at the end. It's a bit like pork crackling for us cats, only healthier because there's no salt. Sometimes I don't crunch. I just suck it in like spaghetti.
As it is, we cats make our menu choices at one remove. We know what we like, but we have to train our humans to purchase the correct items. I have to rely on Celia's choice of food. The woman is dreadfully lacking in imagination. I started her off buying Felix cat food, because that was what Cats Protection fed me. I mean if they'd fed bananas, I'd have liked bananas. I like Felix, don't get me wrong. Indeed I prefer it to other brands thanks to my kittenhood experiences. But I rather hoped I could persuade the woman to go a bit more upmarket with her choices. She keeps trying to give me the cheaper Felix, or the roasted pieces Felix which I don't much care for, rather than the more expensive pouches which come with a slogan "It's as good as it looks". It is. She comes back laden with human goodies from Waitrose and what is in the bag for me? Felix. Again. Bog standard pouches of Felix. She doesn't eat the same thing week after week. Why does she expect me to?
I am trying to train her. I purr loudly and look hungry when she gives me the more expensive stuff. And I walk to the bowl and turn away looking sad when it's the stuff I don't like. Admittedly I eat it in the end but reluctantly without purring and with the pathetic look of an abused cat. She does notice. Sometimes I see the guilty look flit across her face. She knows she has failed me. She knows she has been saving money at my expense. She knows that she is being selfish. She is still holding out on me...