I’m sitting here scratching my head as I can’t figure out how we choose our humans. I’m not talking adopting or rescuing them! I’m talking about something that transcends that stage.
Let’s assume we already have adopted/rescued them for, let’s say a month now and, of course we share our forever home with them. We all try to adjust and, if we train them well from the beginning, they’ll make good servants!
Then….boom! We find ourselves more attached to one of them! Why is that? How do we decide which one?
The only thing I can think of …..is the smell! Even so, how come?
They don’t smell like bacon or cheese or mice (I’ve heard that some humans smell like rats though) or roasted beef? What people smell like? I know my mummy’s friends buy expensive perfumes but, the perfumes smell like flowers or grass…not necessary something to be attracted to. Men don’t use so much perfume, at least not the ones I know.
So, George, what makes humans appealing to us? Why am I so attached to my dad?
Just asking,
Leo
Dear Leo,
Why are we attached to them at all, Leo? If we care for humans, is it somehow the instinct to care for kittens? Gone wrong? Or at least gone odd! Obviously we adopt or rescue them because they will house us in the manner that befits the superior species, and be good butlers, house maids, and cooks.
But why love them? Why roll in front of them, sit touching them, climb on to their laps, bunt them, and sometimes even groom them? The relationship between cats and humans has only been going on for about 9000 years: they are only semi-domesticated (and some feline scientists argue that humans are not domesticated at all).
I am sure scent plays a part in why we love one more than the other. I agree that the powerful odours that females use are often aversive to cats. Men have more of a nice cosy human odour. And, of course, who feeds us makes a difference too. Follow the food bowl and you may understand your preference better.
This is one of the great issues of our time, Leo, and I am still struggling for an explanation.
Yours
George
PS. A good job they don't smell of mice. I'd be tempted to eat one.