Cats Aren't Affectionate? Says Who?

Hey baby, come here often?

"Cats don't care about you!", I've heard more than one hard-core dog enthusiast thunder. "They're aloof. They don't show affection! You only matter to them at feeding time and for changing their litterbox! Now, dogs....dogs are affectionate! They love everyone unconditionally, and they show it! They interact with you! They do tricks! Cats don't do tricks! Cats suck!"

I admit that I used to be counted among the multitude that thinks this way. For a good portion of my life, it had been my experience that cats were these quiet, aloof creatures that were more part of the background scenery than an actual pet. They didn't interact with anyone; they simply...were.

Fortunately, I've seen the light and have changed my views, but in the process of doing so have come up with some observations about cats and affection. And I've come to the conclusion that the disconnect may be in most part because of a lack of a common means of communication.

The Language of Love

Sing it out, Dan!

Perhaps the unfair perception that cats aren't affectionate is because cats show affection very differently than dogs do (huh huh...he said "dog do"...huh huh. Sorry, it's hard to pass up on a good poop joke. Or one like this, for matter!).  Cats, for instance, have a slow blink that they do as a way of telling someone they love them. There's also the head-butt, the kneading with front paws, and yes, the rubbing up against the legs, which in addition to contributing to you toppling over head-first, is also how they mark someone that they care about.

Dogs jump up and down, lick your face, wag their tails, bark excitedly, and run around with unbridled joy. That's what they do. Cats are more subtle, but the love they have for their people is no less genuine or deep. It seems that a lot of the disconnect between cats and people who don't like them is that cats don't respond in the same way as dogs. As a for huge for instance, a dog wagging its tail means that it's happy (and also a sure sign something is going to get swept off a coffee table). A cat wagging its tail is annoyed. Back away slowly...

There's a lesson here for human relationships too, you know. Two people in a relationship may show and express love in different ways, a result of their upbringing, nature, and experiences. Problems can arise when both people aren't on the same page, and when one doesn't see love expressed in the way they're accustomed to showing it, they may believe they aren't loved. Lesson to be learned: make sure you're involved with someone whose ideas and concepts of love match yours. That's the relationship advice of the day. You're welcome!

It's A Matter Of Trust

Go home, Billy, you're drunk!

Unlike dogs, which as a species can be physically imposing, cats are vulnerable. The presence of a dog on someone's property is enough to give a trespasser pause, while a cat is practically overlooked. After all, how many (serious) "Beware of Cat" signs do you see on property? Cats, I believe, are aware that they're vulnerable, and consequently are more careful, slower to trust.

So cats, aware of how vulnerable they are, are cautious. They have to be. Unfortunately, that caution could be confused for aloofness.

Sure, it's nice when something accepts you wholeheartedly without you even trying, but there's something to be said about earning the trust of someone or something that doesn't trust easily. It's an accomplishment, perhaps even a sign that hey, you're a pretty awesome person!

Cool For Cats

Everyone could use a little squeeze now and then.

So there's a different set of expectations for cats than there are for dogs. Bur it's kind of cool when
you see a cat exhibiting behavior one would normally only associate with dogs. For instance, my cat Kyrion waits for me to get home from work. I've had numerous first-person confirmations that when it gets dark, he can be found perched on the bookcase that affords a view of the driveway and front porch.

When I come in the door, he walks up to me, chirps, and sometimes rubs against my leg. Then, he trots off and goes and does whatever Mysterious Cat Thing(tm) he wants to. He doesn't jump all over me and slobber (although the visual is amusing). It's like instead of being all "Ohmigawd it's SOOOOO good to see you! Hello!Hello!Hello! Missed you! Ohmigawd!", it's more like "My happiness isn't complete until you're here, because you mean a lot to me. Now that you're here, all is right with my world. I'm off now, but I'll be back later to headbutt you and jump in your lap. Kthanksbye!"

In our household, it's clear which of three cats belong to each of us (or should that be the other way around?). Each cat responds to their owner, following them around, sitting with them, jumping into laps, all of that.

In The End

This is a ride at the old Lincoln Park. Think about it...

People ask, "Which is better? Dogs or cats?" That's not a good question, because the two are different entities. It's like saying "Which is better to find on the street? A $50 gift card to  iTunes, or a $50 gift card to Home Depot?" Well, they're both awesome finds; it just depends on what interests you more.

Cats are the sort of pets that give you as much as you give them. If you interact with them, play with them, talk to them, they learn and they develop personalities and an emotional bond with you. If on the other hand you don't really have much contact with them and treat them more as part of the decor, they grow distant and fade into the background. You know, sort of like what happens with people.



Photo Credit: Lincoln Park,

Dan Fogelberg

Things I've learned thus far this Christmas season.

1. Every Christmas season has its particular recurring themes. This year, they appear to be: Elf on the Shelf, Ugly Christmas Sweater Parties, and Krampus. 
2. The world needs more ugly Christmas sweaters depicting Krampus dragging the Elf on the Shelf off to Hell.
3. The proper response to the Cthulhu-inspired turduken amalgam of turkey, octopus, bacon, and crab legs is "Kill it with fire".
4. For some reason, tickets for the World Champion Boston Red Sox 2014 season are cheaper than Bruins tickets.
5. There IS no war on Christmas. Any politician telling you otherwise, is selling something.
6. On the other hand, people who are "offended" by their neighbors' Christmas light displays really need to shut the Hell up.
7. If you think the ASPCA commercials with the Sarah McLachlan song "Angels" are eye-gougingly depressing and make you want to open fire on your television, then you haven't heard the holiday version, with "Silent Night" being sung like a dirge.
8. It is possible to maintain one's vow never to set foot in a Wal-Mart ever again and yet still find extremely good Christmas shopping bargains.
9. It's never too early to start bitching about the snow and cold.
10. For some reason, the average Joe or Jane on the street seem nicer and, dare I say, merrier this season. I won't question it; I'll just continue basking in it.
11. Apparently, pine trees are poisonous to cats. But it turns out, fir trees aren't, Thankfully, we got a fir without even realizing it.

Honorable Mention: This is the best Christmas video this year.

The Great Cat Poop Crisis of 2013

Yeah, I'm writing about cats again. Bear with me; I've never in my life had a situation where I lived someplace with multiple cats, so this is new and fascinating territory for me. It's an ongoing learning experience; a fuzzy, interesting, watch-your-step, don't-leave-food-on-the-counter, learning experience.

Back when we had just one cat, Spooky, our 19 1/2 year old Dowager Empress, the part of our lives dedicated to cleaning up Her Highness' intestinally-processed cat food (aka poop) was actually rather small. Having slowed down a lot, she was a light eater (although she definitely loved her some deli sliced turkey breast and/or a little ramican of Half-and-Half, or, as she came to know the word, "cream"), and consequently a light pooper.

And yet, lacking perspective, we didn't think she was a light pooper. In fact, when her box got ripe, we started singing our own modified version of Nickelodeon's Catdog theme song. It went something like:

Catbox! Catbox!
Nothing in the world like a stinky catbox!

Well, I'll never understand
And I'll never quite git
How one little cat
Can make so much s**t!

That's about as far as we got, because I think around that time, we both passed out.

But that was Spooky for you. You know, as an aside, she had a litter mate, and we know where that sibling ended up. I wonder if that other cat is still alive. We could ask the owners, as they are former friends of ours, but we're not exactly on speaking terms this day, and it may be rather awkward to contact them and say "Hey, we don't give a screaming, flying, warthog's behind about how the two of you are doing, but can you tell us if your cat is still alive?"

Some mysteries, apparently, will never be solved.

Now, where was I? Oh yes. Cat poop.

So yes, we were accustomed to our elderly cat's slower metabolism, smaller appetite, and decreased activity level. Going from this situation to a clowder of three young, active, and voraciously hungry cats barely out of kittenhood was like going from a leisurely walk in the park while pushing a baby stroller to strapping on a pair of roller skates, getting a rocket engine shoved up you posterior, then having it activated as you stand at the top of a steep ski slope. Wile E. Coyote would be proud.

These three cats eat.  And consequently, these three cats poop.

 Oh, sure, the youngest of our four kids, the one who still lives at home, said she'd help us with the cat boxes, but tell me this: have you ever asked a teenager to do something? When they want you to do something, it always needs to be done now. They call because they need a ride home, so pick them up now. Or they need to be dropped off somewhere, now. Or they need to bring some money to school, now. Or their hair's on fire, and they want you to extinguish it now.

It's always something, I tell ya!

Oh, but when you ask them to do something, they keep putting it off, usually with the wuzgunna's. As in, "I wuzgunna do that after I got home from school!" So, you decide not to nag, and time goes by, and pretty soon they're marching down the aisle on their wedding day, and they still haven't done what you wanted! And of course, if you insist, they get all affronted, as if you're Cinderella's wicked stepmother who's having a particularly bad day as well as a jalapeno enema. Goebbels would be a more genteel parent, compared to your unreasonable demands that they do something you ask them to do without giving them a fortnight's deadline in which to do it.

So, where was I? Oh yeah. Cat poop.

So the rate of cat poop creation was increasing exponentially, with all three cats generating so much crap that all of them would be over-qualified to work as FoxNews commentators. In fact, it gets so bad that the cats barely have enough room to do further business, so the cats begin to express their displeasure in the universal language known as "taking a dump outside the box".

Can you imagine if we humans expressed our displeasure at others in this way? Dissatisfied with your job? Walk into a meeting where your boss is talking with other higher-ups, jump up on the meeting room table, drop your pants, and let your duodenum do the talking.

Or if your boyfriend or girlfriend cheats on you, you go over to their apartment and leave a little (or a big, if you've had a large meal) surprise on their living room carpet. It gives the phrase "carpet steamer" a whole new meaning, I tell you.

Are you angry at the psychos from Westboro Baptist "Church"? Take a dump on their lawn. See how they protest that!

So, yes. Cat poop. The cats began leaving what Carol and I call "protest poops" just outside the litter box, to indicate their displeasure. Humans think outside the box. Cats poop outside theirs.

But, thanks to the acquisition of another large litter box, we think the crisis is at an end. This is a covered box, incidentally, which 1) makes sure that the rest of the cellar isn't subjected to an ammonia-smelling, poop-laced sandstorm when the cats use the box and scratch at the litter, and 2) it offers the cats privacy. Apparently, cats don't like people watching them when they do their business, unlike dogs, who'll blast a ten pound turd right in front of you, then turn around and enjoy it as a hot hors d'oeurve, and then jump up and lick your face! FUN!

It looks like, at least for the moment, that the House of Terra has weathered the latest cat poop crisis, but knowing this clowder, they'll have another challenge waiting for us sooner rather than later.

Our Cats, Part 3: Avishan

It's a well-known made-up historical fact that Al Gore created the Internet for the purpose of facilitating us talking about our cats. This is the third in a three-part series of the Cats of the House of Terra. Enjoy.

AVISHAN

AKA:  Little Bit, Avi-Girl, Avi, Kitty Ninja, Paddlepaws, Flopishan, Fluffishan, Count Kittytoes
AGE:  9 Months

So Kyrian is "my" cat, and Felix is "Rhiannon's" cat, but that left Carol without a cat (or a kitty overlord, let's just call it what it is!). Even though Carol was without question the hardest hit when Spooky passed away, she wanted to first make sure that the other two of us had "our" cats, so that we both could savor the whole special bond with one cat thing.

But as last Christmas loomed, it was apparent that Carol was ready. We needed that third (and final!) cat for the House of Terra. So, on Rhi's birthday, coincidentally enough, we headed off to the Bedford Animal Shelter, since we had so much success there with Kyrian.

Carol has always had a soft spot for black cats. After all, they are beautiful cats, emblematic of Halloween (her favorite holiday), as well as her tendency to stick up for the underdog..er...undercat, since many people are prejudiced against black cats. Although she wasn't ruling out any color cat, if there was a preference, she'd go for a black cat. Also, she really wasn't interested in a kitten.

After checking out a few adult black cats, the attendant invited her into the "kitten room", a special place set apart where the kittens could roam and hang out. The attendant pulled out a black kitten, shyly hiding, and Carol placed the kitten in her lap. The kitten then flopped over, relaxing in her lap like it was something she'd always done. I was watching Carol from the glass window, and when I saw the sheer look of a heart melting, I knew she was hooked. She had found her black kitty.

Avishan had been born in a feral colony, captured, checked out, spayed, and had her ear clipped, so she could be adopted as a barn cat. Someone apparently decided that she was tame enough to actually be adopted into a regular home.

And about that ear clipping...

In order to identify a barn cat as having been spayed or neutered and checked out, vets remove a small portion of the cat's ear. Someone apparently got a little too enthusiastic with the clippers, because her left ear is missing quite a chunk. One hopes that the person who performed the procedure never goes into the hair-cutting industry.

Oh, and her original name was "Horse". We have no idea why. And just when we thought that Kyrian's original name of "Nugent" was strange enough.

The name had to go. While Carol helped me out by suggesting the name "Kyrian", I returned the favor by suggesting "Avishan", the name of her half-elf Druid from one of our older Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. Avishan it is!

As a feral, Avishan proved to be shyer than your normal kitten. In fact, as soon as she got the measure of the house, she dashed through the cat door and down into the cellar, where she remained for most of the day and night. After a few attempts to keep her up here, I suggested we seal the door and bring the litter boxes upstairs (gag). We enacted the plan and kept the door sealed for two weeks. She eventually got the hint and her habits changed.

Avishan is a poly-dactyl. She has 24 toes, with enormous front paws and what almost looks like opposable thumbs. We expect her plans for world domination to be enacted soon, and I for one, welcome our kittycat overlords.

Assimilating Avi was a challenge. Kyrian, already having gotten used to Felix, was now finding his patience tested again. You could almost see the "Oh no! Here we go again!" vibe coming off him. He greeted the new kitten with half-hearted swipes at her, and lots of hissing. Felix, no doubt remembering how he was initially greeted with hostility, was a different...oh, who the Hell am I kidding? Felix hissed at her too, the little bugger. What was sad was seeing Avishan approach the boys and flop over, exposing her belly, no doubt trying to be friendly, only to get hissed at and batted.

But again, we tried doing the group play, the mixing of their scents, and one day, it was like a switch thrown. It's almost as if the boys suddenly decided at once "Okay, we can let girls in the club".

With Kyrian as the alpha male, Avishan soon learned the things to do. As a shy kitten, she wouldn't dream of jumping on counters- until she saw Kyrian do it. She wouldn't beg for food scraps- until she saw Kyrian do it.

Avishan still has the adorable habit of suddenly flopping over on her side in order to be petted. It's called the Avi-flop, and has given birth to a new song:

Do it in the night
And do it in the morning
Do the Avi-flop
And fall over without warning!

As a black cat, Avishan has that whole "blend in with the shadows" shtick down pat. Those big paddle paws of hers somehow make her footfalls silent, hence the appellation of Kitty Ninja. One moment she's not there, the next, she's sitting behind you, big yellow eyes looking up, acting as if she'd been there all along.

She also shares the same characteristics, coincidentally enough, with our dear departed Spooky. She loves to eat paper (the more important papers the better), loves eating turkey, and has this fascination with the shower after someone uses it.

If there's a downside, and it's a small one, it's that her shyness makes it so that she doesn't like being picked up, or sitting in people's laps. In fact, many times we've walked in on her, she's had this guilty look as if to say "Oh, I don't belong here? Okay!", then she takes off. But happily, she's been taking baby steps (kitten steps?) and is gaining confidence and trust. She's gotten to the  point where she'll follow Carol around, and she prefers Carol to the rest of us, which is what we've been shooting for all along.

And so, the House of Terra is now complete. Each of us has a cat that enjoys a special bond, and all three cats are good friends. And yes, we're stopping at three cats. Being Crazy Cat People is not a career path we're interested in taking!

Our Cats, Part 1: Kyrian

It's a well-known made-up historical fact that Al Gore created the Internet for the purpose of facilitating us talking about our cats. This is the first in a three-part series of the Cats of the House of Terra. Enjoy.

Kyrian

AKA: Kye-Guy; "Handsome, Handsome Fly-Guy"; Metrosexual Kitty; Kneady Boy, Kyrian Eliason
Age: Two years

The death of our 19 1/2 year old black cat Spooky in October 2012 was a devastating, though not unexpected event in our family. There had been signs that she had been slowing down, signs that we chose to ignore or rationalize, the pet owners' equivalent of whistling past the graveyard. But when the time came and it was clear that, after a sudden stroke, that she was in pain and losing her mental awareness, the hard decision was made.

Her loss left a void in our house, and the question became "when do we get another cat?" There had been talk that it would be at least weeks before we'd bring in another cat. At Carol's urging, we ended up hitting the Nashua Humane Society the Saturday after Spooky passed. I was not too keen on the idea, but Carol really wanted me to have a cat with whom I could have the same close relationship to as she had with Spooky. Because even though Spooky was a loving cat that enjoyed hanging out with everyone, ultimately, she was Carol's cat. Or, to be precise, Carol was her human!

So, off to the Nashua Humane Society, Carol, our youngest daughter Rhiannon, and yours truly.

Getting a cat isn't as simple as going to the supermarket and picking up a gallon of milk. There has to be that spark, that connection. It's like the definition of art: "I can't describe it to you, but I know it when I see it!" So there we were, at the Humane Society, looking for a cat that, though it would be the family cat, would be the one that bonded best with me. I was still skeptical and not very enthusiastic.

After checking out some very nice kitties, it was clear that the spark, that zing, didn't happen at NHS.

"Well, so much for that," I said. "Let's head home."

"There's the Animal Rescue League in Bedford," Carol suggested.

Sigh.

On to the ARL.

Once there, we looked around for a while, but still, nothing. No connection. No zing. There had been one cage we kept passing since it was situated along the main corridor, but the occupant was constantly sleeping and thus escaped our notice. After spending a good amount of time in the large facility and experienced the kitty version of 101 Dalmatians, no. Nothing. Time to go home to our empty cold catless house and wallow in sadness.

I had my back turned to the cage with the sleeping cat as I suggested to Carol and Rhiannon that we should just go.

"Dad!" Rhiannon shot back, pointing. "That cat just tried to swat your butt!"

I turned around and saw this handsome tabby, looking alert and trying to put his paw through the cage to reach out to me.

Now, I know there's a lot of opinions and arguments about the possibility of life after death. There's also discussion about whether there's such thing as ghosts, and even further, whether higher-functioning animals like dogs and cats can be ghosts. But we're convinced that, when we were at the Bedford shelter, the ghost of a little black cat who wanted to make sure her humans were happy swatted the dozing tabby on the head, saying "Hey, dummy! Wake up! The best thing you could possibly have is about to pass you by! Wake up!"

Another couple had noticed the tabby's antics and started taking an interest in him as well. Fortunately, Rhiannon dashed off and found a volunteer, and we set up a small room so that we could have some one on one with this feisty cat called Nugent, this eighteen month old tabby.

Nugent? Really? Does this cat come with its own gun collection and insane right-wing ideology? Or is it a has-been rocker desperate for attention?

Nugent had been found as a stray in Vermont. He had a collar that he had tried to get out of, but instead it got stuck under one of his arms and burrowed into his flesh. It had required surgery to remove it.

Well, we fell in love with him and decided on the spot to adopt him. But that name had to go. That's when Carol brought up Kyrian, the name of a non-player character bard in my old Forgotten Realms Dungeons and Dragons 3.0 game. Yeah. Kyrian. That works.

Kyrian it was.

We live in a house on the border of Nashua, with plenty of room inside for an active cat. Kyrian took to his new home immediately, and quickly established himself as the Master of All He Surveys.

Kyrian, we discovered, is part Egyptian Mau. The Mau is characterized by leopard-like spots on the under-belly, a tendency to chirp rather than meow, and has the habit of waiting by the door for their master to return home. Although it's clear that Kyrian isn't a full-blooded Mau, those characteristics are all there.

Kyrian loves the knead. When he first came home, he was kneading everything; blankets, furniture, us, THE AIR. In fact, Carol and I still recall the evening of the Presidential election. My son John had come up to visit and to vote, and we came home to find him sitting in his favorite chair, watching tv, with Kyrian on his lap, kneading vigorously. John's expression was one of slight but continuous pain. Kyrian was already making friends.

Nowadays, he still kneads, but it's mostly just laps, and mostly mine. It's not so bad when his claws are trimmed but otherwise, well, the Spanish Inquisition could have taken a few tips from him on the subject of torture methods.

Speaking of torture, there's also the farting. Well, again, not so much these days, but when we first got him, his kitty digestive system had to adjust from the standardized shelter food and feeding schedule, to the variety and greater quantities that we provide. Kyrian proved to be the master of the SBD (Silent But Deadly), although mercifully, the frequency has diminished, something we're all grateful for.

We've also never seen a cat who loves to groom as much as Kyrian does, which is why he's also known as the metrosexual kitty.

Some cats are fast, others are excellent jumpers. Kyrian is the master jumper, often getting a respectable amount of air when he does vertical leaps in an effort to grab the feather dancers we use to play with the cats. He also loves jumping up on counters, especially when we're cooking. This has led to addressing him in the same stern tone and name usage that you use on your kid, when you start using their full names, including the middle name, as in "Robert Maxell Smith! You put down that bottle of bleach and that duck right now, young man!".

Well, this is a cat. He has no middle name. We're not that insane...yet. So I've taken to saying "Kyrian Elaison!" when I'm addressing him in a disciplinary way. Since "kyrie elaison" means "Lord, have mercy", it's strangely appropriate.

This comes into play especially when I'm cutting up chicken on the cutting board. Kyrian jumps up on the counter, studies it, then tries to bring his face in contact with the chicken. After a sharp "Kyrian Elaison!", he backs up, then studies the chicken with what can only be described as an appraising glance, then, slowly, he reaches out with a paw to take it. After another sharp exclamation of his "full name", he withdraws the paw, studies the situation a little more, and tries again, this time with the other paw.

Cats are smart; and don't let anyone try to tell you otherwise. Kyrian knows the word "meat", and when he sees the fridge door open, he walks on over and chips "mreet". Fortunately, he also knows what "no" means, as well as "no more, all gone".

And so, Kyrian is well situated in his new home, and though he loves the family and enjoys socializing with any visitors, he's definitely "my cat", or to be honest, I'm "his" staff. But if he senses that someone other than myself is feeling down, he unerringly goes and sits with them for a while to cheer them up. His ability to know when to do this is uncanny. Maybe it's something like that whole "animals sense weather changes and earthquakes" thing.

Ah, but soon after Kyrian made himself at home and declared himself Lord and Master of the House of Terra, a new fuzzy face was lurking in the wings, ready to pounce.

Next time: Crazy Ed comes to stay