EP. 10: HOW TO TALK TO YOUR GENIUS CAT

Some experts (for example, Kalla J. Knopman in the already mentioned How to Measure  Your Cat’s IQ) say we shouldn’t talk “human” to cats. Instead, we should try to imitate their language so that they, in turn, can imitate us.

My experience with Wolfram Chettoh, whom I’ve owned for more than thirteen years, tells a different story. Cats have no problem understanding our language. Sometimes they may ignore us, but it’s almost always a pretense. So, there is no need to make ourselves ridiculous with pitiful attempts at feline language. Cats will usually act disgusted and annoyed when not outright scared.

Indeed, devilish genius cats can choose several ways to communicate with humans.

Wolfie Chettoh can do the following:

VERBAL COMMUNICATION:

(1) meowing:

Figure 1: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in August 2018. Photo by the author.

This is standard cat talk. However, Chettoh seldom meows, with rare exceptions. When he was a kitten, Chettoh used soft meowing for whatever necessity. Then, his communication techniques began to diversify as his cognitive function evolved.

(2) complaining:

Figure 2: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in July 2011. Photo by the author.

This is a long, high-pitched lament. Chettoh complains when he fears I might forget about him. It happens either when I come home after a long day at work, and I’m not fast enough to take care of his needs before anything else or when I’m about to leave. Chettoh always knows when I’m getting ready for work (see the previous post). Other occasions to complain are when I’m doing something stupid and pointless (from a cat’s point of view), like trying to fix a bathroom leak or another emergency around the house. Chettoh doesn’t like intense noises, like hammering on something or vacuum-cleaning.

A variant of the complaint sound is the “hurry up” call. This is a fast, impatient “meow,” telling you to get a move on when filling Chettoh’s bowl.

(3) chirping:

Figure 3: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in July 2012. Photo by the author.

A deep, short rumble is Chettoh’s way of thanking you. Most of the time, Chettoh is a well-behaved cat, so he’ll say “thank you”  when you feed him, stroke his head, or indulge him, like when he wants me to pick up and carry him to his food bowl. In general, Chettoh chirps to greet you when he wakes up after one of his frequent naps.

(4) growling:

Figure 4: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in April 2020. Photo by the author.

Chettoh seldom growls, but when he’s distraught. As I explained in the previous posts, he’s been my favorite pet for thirteen years. During this time, we only had a few fights, most of which can be attributed to my (often) limited understanding of a cat’s personality and behavior. For example, I thought I’d lost my precious iPhone a couple of years ago. Before I found out I’d forgotten it in a restaurant, I was so upset that I began muttering: “Oh my goodness! Where is the f… phone? What am I going to do? My phone! Oh no, I lost my phone!” And so on. Now, cats are good judges of human moods. Chettoh, in particular, immediately understands when I’m annoyed, even from rooms away. The only problem is that he usually thinks I’m angry AT HIM. Consequently, before I turn aggressive (I wouldn’t, but that’s what his predator mind tells him), he hits first. Before fully grasping what was going on, I realized the growling little monster had sunk his teeth and claws into my right shin.

NON-VERBAL COMMUNICATION:

(5) purring:

As a kitten, Chettoh seldom purred. Only when I picked him up, and he wanted to show his harmlessness, did he display this most peculiar cat behavior. Getting older and more socially clever, Chettoh purrs much more often. For example, he purrs when he greets me after work, when he’s eating, when he lies on my computer keyboard (and I’m trying to use it) when my friends come to visit, and they want to cuddle him, and also when I’m sad, and he wants to cheer me up. However, as most cat owners know, cats purr not only when they are happy or friendly. Some cats will purr when sick or aching, like a she-cat I used to have as a teenager, who softly purred right until she died (probably from eating poisoned food).

Figure 5: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in June 2019. Photo by the author.

(6) twitching the tail:

Figure 6: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in October 2022. Photo by the author.

Like most adult cats, Chettoh “speaks” a lot with his tail. This happens when he is happy (vertical, parading tail) or angry (low, left-to-right, fast swishing tail). Indeed, a sure indicator that a cat is about to attack is the rapid movement of its tail. This happened on the occasion I told above. However, I didn’t know my kitty enough at the time to catch the red flag. Chettoh also uses his tail when he’s too lazy to meow. For example, when Chettoh is pretending to sleep next to where I’m working at home, if I ask him a question like: “Did you eat your food?” or: “Would you like some more food?” he twitches his tail twice. Of course, if the question is, “Did you make that mess in the carpet?” he puts on his “Sleeping Furry Beauty” act, worthy of an Academy Award. Sometimes, Chettoh uses his tail to express curiosity. When he’s investigating a strange noise, for instance, or trying a new kind of food, he shapes his tail like a question mark.

(7) rubbing the head on your leg, ankle, or a nearby object:

Apart from the usual rubbing against your ankles, which many cats use to transfer their scent and claim you as “property,” grown cats may use this kind of non-verbal communication for more complex reasons. Lately, for example, Chettoh has adopted what I call the “Muttley talk,”  from the name of the dog character in the 70s Hanna-Barbera Productions TV series Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines. In that funny cartoon, Muttley, the dog, used to point at his chest to ask for a medal. Similarly, when Chettoh wants to be stroked, he first jumps on the nearby tallest spot, then rubs his head on something and repeatedly points at it with his right paw.

Figure 7: Wolfie “Morsy” Chettoh in November 2022. Photo by the author.

Rating Chettoh’s non-verbal communication:

According to Kalla J. Knopman’s Measure Your Cat’s IQ,

(a) “if your cat has a unique way of expressing itself […], give kitty 5 points.”

       As explained above, Chettoh has many peculiar ways to express himself, like theMuttley Talk,” so I’ll award him five points;

(b) “Give 3 points if the kitty meows to get your attention when another cat or human does something wrong.”

       Chettoh doesn’t meet many people, so when he meows at someone, that’s usually me. Three more points to Chettoh, then.

EP. 4: HOW TO MEASURE YOUR CAT’S INTELLIGENCE

Cat’s intelligence has long fascinated pet owners and researchers alike. The latest scientific findings shed light on various aspects of feline cleverness, allowing us to appreciate their unique abilities. Measuring the intelligence of cats involves assessing their cognitive abilities and problem-solving skills. One standard marker of cat intelligence is their ability to adapt to new environments and learn from experiences.

I had my cat Chettoh take a challenging test to assess his IQ (which I suspect must be way above the feline average). I found this test in Calla H. Knopman’s book Measure Your Cat’s IQ, which I mentioned in a previous post.

The Cats as Analytical Beings Test comprises four stages, each harder than the previous one. Depending on a given step’s outcome, a devilish genius like my Chettoh can either improve his entry score (5 points) or subtract from it.

Stage 1: Sensorimotor test, a.k.a. ‘out of sight, out of mind test.’

The aim is to test the cat’s ability to understand object permanence.

According to the book, one must:

“[…] Show the kitty a toy and keep their attention by playing with it. Then hide the toy behind your back or someplace out of sight and see if your cat finds it. Kittens and young children would have no idea what happened to their toys. [However], most adult cats immediately go behind your back to retrieve the toy, wondering what is wrong with you. […]”

Unfortunately, Chettoh doesn’t like to play. One might argue that a fourteen-year-old cat is an elderly cat: of course, he doesn’t want to play. I doubt that’s the problem, though. Chettoh never loved cat toys, not even when I first brought him home on April 24th, 2009, in a shoebox with a punched lid.

Soon, I realized that eating, sleeping, licking his fur, and using the litter took up 98% of his time. Sometimes, he enjoyed a bit of hand-to-hand fight (literally) with his human mom. If I only tried to stroke him, he would become a biting and scratching little panther. This attitude soon earned him a second nickname: Morsy, Italian slang for ‘someone who bites.’

So, I can’t use a toy to assess Chettoh’s sensorimotor prowess. Still, I have another story that serves as a perfect example of his uncommonly analytical mind.

Like many cats, Chettoh occasionally suffers from hairballs. This happens mainly during the shedding season. And the consequences are rather unpleasant: he often barfs, usually in the house’s most hidden and hard-to-reach corners. Trying to solve the problem, I went to a pet shop and bought a medication tube. According to the instructions, the yellowish jam had to be spread over the cat’s food. Only a few small doses would suffice to eliminate the worst hairball symptoms.

Well, it didn’t work. Chettoh became pickier than usual with his food. He refused to eat whenever he smelled the tiniest amount of yellow jam. Out of ideas, I resorted to reading the small printing on the patient information leaflet. “In case of difficult cats,” it said, “the product should be smeared on the animal’s paws.”

At first, this second attempt was a roaring success. But, as often happens, it was too good to be true. Sure, Chettoh gulped all his food, carefully licking every last scrap of medication from his front paws. Also, he stopped throwing up.

However, he soon developed an unquenchable craving for the yellow jam. He began refusing even his favorite food (fish and chicken cakes). All he cared for was a generous amount of that devilish drug on his paws. 

I tried to wean him out of that medicine by gradually reducing the amount I put on his paws and hiding the green tube.

Unfortunately, Chettoh knew the kitchen cabinet where I kept it and waited long hours in front of it, looking sad.

Finally, after long, frustrating weeks, I succeeded.

So, I know the answer to the sensorimotor test. My cat can understand object permanence.