Yeti: Today, a lesson for the kitties.
Boo: I want to help!
Yeti: Uh, no…this is a solo entry. Go on. Go. Shoo. Scat. Get out. Now.
Boo: Well, I never…
Yeti: You never leave me alone! Scat, cat! No, sorry – but really…please leave.
Boo: Okay, okay….[exits stage left]
Yeti: First, I want to state very plainly that this reading is FOR CATS ONLY. Humans, this is of no interest to you, so politely move on.
Now, I have amassed a wealth of experience that I feel is my duty to pass on to the next generation. Since I have no kittens of my own, I am using this wonderful venue of the interwebs to get my message out.
Boo: [poking head back in room] Oh, brother.
Yeti: Scram! [briefly leaves chair to rush the door, and returns] Please pardon the interruption. There will be no more of that, I assure you.
Anyway, the trick to dealing with humans is L.T.E. – Lower Their Expectations.
Take Peekaboo, my roommate and basically my polar opposite. She is a desperate, pathetic, fawning beggar, and pesters our caretakers beyond distraction, until they get impatient. She climbs on them and mauls them when they’re trying to eat and tries to steal their food. She steals my food, too – at which they get quite upset, to their credit. She also wigs out at every little thing; jumps at nothing, and is a nervous creature I’ve heard them compare to something called Alvy played by Woody Allen in Annie Hall. She’s completely neurotic, hyperactive, always in crisis and very high maintenance. In short, her amp is turned up to eleven. It’s often too much for them.
I, on the other hand, play it cool. I model the Zen world of felinity, and I suppose it’s a bit of culture shock for them, compared to her, but they have learned to adjust and accept me for who I am, for the most part.
If you struggle when they try to cuddle with you, they’ll eventually give up. I know some of you actually like this sentimental rot, but it’s a bad habit to develop in them; they’ll maul you more each time. I’ve even learned to generate sneezes on cue to startle or gross them out (although this is extreme, and may require extra grooming).
By not cuddling with them on anything resembling a regular basis, any occasion of doing so is deemed a ‘miracle’ and they’ll fall to pieces and become your slave.
By not coming running every time I’m called, they make a bigger deal of it when I do.
By eating all but a couple of pieces of my food, I demonstrate both gratitude and fullness.
By being aloof and having the reputation of being standoffish, they expect less from me.
It takes sooo much less effort. That yields more naptime.
You can see the advantages.
I have now cemented my place as the “good” cat in the household, because I never get on the kitchen counter, like someone else here does. Why should I eat their food? They don’t eat mine. Why should I block the lid for their weird shiny litter box when they come home? They don’t block mine. It’s pure logic. My restraint is my brand.
Now, if I want food off schedule, all I have to do is the rare ankle rub, and they’ll coo and drop anything they’re doing to do any little thing I want – Every. Single. Time.
On the other hand, Peekaboo rubs around them incessantly, trips them on the stairs, gets accused of trying to kill them, yowls her head off, and is put in solitary in the bathroom after so long of it, until she calms down. Can’t say I blame them; I would do the same – or worse.
Peekaboo’s problem is that she raised their expectations, got results, and then overdid it. She turned it up so much she’s overwhelming and annoying. Do not follow her example.
Kittens, you’re young and you set the bar as soon as they take you home. There’s only one chance to make a first impression. Make it underwhelming.
[Turns as The Mister enters the room, and affects an expression of innocence for him]
Mister: Yeti, what are you doing at the computer?
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Yeti: [Batting her big blue eyes and sitting up on her haunches] Mew?
Mister: [Reaching for her] Aww, look how cute you are. Come on, let’s take a look at you…. Quit struggling!
