Fun fact: Cats do respond to training! In fact one of the first scientific studies highlighting the importance of reinforcement in animal behavior was done with cats.
“Smokey, whatever it is you want will have to wait — I’ve got to put these groceries away before the ice cream melts!” But Smokey continued yowling. Knowing I’d have no peace until I investigated his concerns, I quickly stashed the last of the frozen foods into the freezer, pushed the other groceries to the side on the counter, and rushed toward the front entryway where Smokey stood at attention at the foot of the stairs.
Viewing the chaotic scene, I laughed and said, “This is your emergency? Don’t you think I would have discovered this when I walked upstairs?” Before returning to the kitchen I added, “And, don’t be such a tattle-tale!”
Single, our North American Short-haired black-and-white feline trouble-maker, had a fetish for lingerie. Each time I left the house, he’d dash upstairs to check if I had left the drawer open. If I had, he would stand on his hind legs, pull the drawer open wider, then patiently fish out, one by one, anything he could reach. When I returned home I’d likely see bras, panties, silk nightgowns, and slips strewn up and down the curved stairwell — the focal point for guests who came in the front door.
Smokey had been king of the household for years until we rescued this eight-week-old bundle of trouble. What older cat wouldn’t be upset by the intrusion of a young upstart kitten who immediately began siphoning off the family’s coveted attention? But Single was especially irksome because he was born without good manners.
Single and his siblings, one female and one male, were found in the attic above my husband’s commercial-glass contracting office. After his secretary and bookkeeper kept insisting they heard kitten mews overhead, Jerry and our son David reluctantly climbed up to investigate. During their ascent, Jerry muttered, “We’ve got to give those ladies some time off!”
When they poked their heads into the attic, all was quiet. But when their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they saw three pairs of bright glowing eyes from a corner where the abandoned kittens huddled quietly together. Once the kittens were rescued and brought out into the light, Jerry said it was love at first sight when his eyes locked with Single’s.
“This one’s mine!” he announced.
I wasn’t convinced that we needed another cat, especially this sickly runt of the litter, nor was I happy with its name — Single Strength. When I finally gave in, I questioned the name, but Jerry was adamant.
“We named each kitten after the three types of glass in our business — Crystal, Plate — and this one was named Single Strength because that’s the most fragile glass.”
Fortunately, for convenience, we ended up calling him Single. Except for the times when I took full advantage of his full name — “Single Strength Chappell! Get off that counter!”
Our hearts were quickly captured by this rambunctious, inquisitive, risk-oriented creature. Smokey, however, was not impressed. Not even when Single started fetching wadded up paper balls. No matter how far or where they were thrown, he never tired of retrieving them and proudly dropping them at the feet of the thrower — much to the delight of our family and guests.
Smokey disdainfully tolerated this ruffian who had little respect for house rules. He decided it was his duty to monitor his every movement and make certain he followed all rules.
It was true that Smokey had challenged us with his own rebellious moments as a youngster, but he had quickly developed a respect for rules: No jumping on the sofa, no sitting in the chairs unless invited onto someone’s lap, no jumping onto the kitchen counter, and definitely no jumping onto the dining room table — which was exactly what Single did one particular afternoon.
I had just entered the room when I saw Single leap into the middle of the table, barely missing the centerpiece. Smokey, dozing on the floor a few feet away, opened his eyes wide in shock and raised his head. He fixed a long hard stare on Single, then looked in my direction as if to ask, “Well, what are you going to do about that?”
“That is no!” I said sharply to Single.
Single had heard the word “no” before, but he suddenly developed a case of deafness. I loudly repeated the word — with more authority — expecting immediate obedience. Instead, Single began to bathe himself. Smokey now sat at full attention. He knew Single had broken the rules and eagerly waited to see some serious consequences to his behavior.
I swatted the table with a rolled-up newspaper, but Single simply moved over a few inches and resumed primping. Smokey was almost in cardiac arrest.
Swatting him lightly on the behind with the paper, I said sharply “Single, no!”
Finally, in slow motion, Single sauntered across the table and jumped down.
Smokey glared at Single, and then looked at me as if to ask, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?”
As Single strolled past him, Smokey gave me one last inquiring look. Apparently dissatisfied with my disciplinary action, or lack thereof, Smokey suddenly whacked Single on the side of the head with his big paw, bowling him over. Though Single was unscathed, Smokey walked from the room with head and tail high, satisfied at having taken matters into his own paws.
With time, Smokey and Single became close friends, the good traits of each rubbing off onto the other. Single learned to respect rules (for the most part) and Smokey took more risks by chasing birds in the back yard — a first for him. Smokey never fetched, however — he left that to the young upstart.
~Kitty Chappell
