We got cats last August.
One is named Roxy.
The other is named Meadow.
Supposedly we’re training them.
But of course it’s the other way around.
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First we wanted them not to jump on the table that we eat on in our living room and take our food.
We tried squirt bottles.
Sticky tape.
Aluminum foil.
Coin jar noise makers.
Nothing worked.
So we switched to a positive reinforcement program.
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Now when the cats jump on the table, Rasa hops down.
She sits crosslegged on the floor.
She lures the cats with a jar of treats.
They come.
Rasa holds up a hand.
“Give me five,” she says.
If they feel like it, each cat raises a paw and gives her five.
“Good girl,” Rasa says.
Either way, she gives them both a treat.
Rasa extends one leg.
“Jump over my leg,” she says.
If they feel like it, each cat jumps over her leg.
“Good girl,” Rasa says again.
Either way, she gives them both another treat.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m training them,” Rasa says.
“Thy’re jumping on the table and you’re giving them treats,” I say.
“That’s how training works,” says Rasa.
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Next we wanted the cats to stop waking us up so early.
What happened was they came to our bedroom door at 5 a.m.
They scratched vigorously.
They mewled loudly.
This continued until we let them in.
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For weeks, we thought the cats were waking us up because they didn’t like the food we gave them or they were hungry.
And maybe that was true.
But then we bought them fancier cat food.
We doubled their portions.
We served them dinner later.
And they still kept scratching and mewling at 5 a.m.
By now, their bodies were bigger, too.
It sounded like they were going to break down the door.
*
Crissie and I gave up trying to fix things with food or feeding times.
These days, when the cats come at 5 a.m., one of us gets up.
We open the door.
The cats rush in.
They jump on the bed.
They parade back and forth over our formerly-sleeping bodies like conquering warriors.
The result is we’re really tired at night.
Right after their evening feeding, we go to bed.
*
One of the cats lets us pick her up and cuddle her.
Meadow.
The other doesn’t.
Roxy.
If you pick Roxy up, she wriggles and squirms.
She backs up her body.
She prepares to leap down to the floor.
The “ready pose” for that escape has two parts.
First, Roxy pushes her back legs into your throat.
Then she raises her butt and rubs your face with it.
Rasa calls this “Roxy giving you buttface.”
A second later, she’s down and has darted off.
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Please don’t misunderstand me.
I/we adore our cats.
I/we wouldn’t change a thing about them.
I/we have no complaints.
It’s just a reminder that love, not logic, determines the connection between living creatures.
If a relationship seems perfect to everyone else, but it doesn’t work for you, it doesn’t work.
Conversely, what everyone else might think are dealbreakers don’t have to be.
Jumping on the table.
Breaking down your door.
Buttface.
If it works for you, it works.
This makes me feel so much better about our new malamute puppy. Although I’d say the jury is still out on whether our relationship works for me. Diddo on the guinea pigs from Xmas 2019.
I can totally relate. I just wrote a blog post about how we adopted our cat: https://wordwandering702176642.wordpress.com/2021/03/12/fenny-cat/