2 days ago
8
My cat Lucy, a blue Burmese, is the fluffiest, most adorable little feline in the world. She’s also the cattiest of all cats, an ill-tempered spawn of the underworld who takes arbitrary swipes at my other cats for having the temerity to exist.
Lucy recently had a litter of three kittens. I don’t have kids of my own, but while helping with raising Lucy’s offspring, I have since realised the high stakes of shaping young minds – and how different siblings can be. Lucy’s kittens may have come from the same womb and suckled from the same teats in the same basket, but they have markedly different personalities: one of them is chilled and curious, another chases anything that moves and the third is skittish in the extreme.
After a few weeks, however, they all embody Lucy’s dark side. The kittens have opened their eyes and have just enough strength to stagger about, so I pick them up to inspect them. Immediately, their claws spring out, and they hiss and spit like angry snakes until Lucy emerges from her basket, staring me down until I hand her them back to her. I get it. If a giant suddenly plucked me from my bed at night and started talking to me in a creepy baby voice, I’d be a bit spitty, too.
However, as these kittens need their forever homes, my job in the coming weeks is to gradually acclimatise them to humans. But is it possible to train a cat – of any age – to be sociable, less angry and generally happier in the presence of humans?
Dr Saho Takagi of Kyoto University in Japan has published several studies into cat behaviour. She says it is “important for kittens to have as much contact with people as possible during their socialisation period”, which is up to seven weeks of age. “If the kitten is young, you can probably build a bond by repeatedly offering food.” She is right. Two of the three kittens come around once they realise I am serving a better menu than their mother (Dreamies treats, mainly).
Also, it has been eight weeks, and Lucy is now completely over motherhood. She went from Mother Teresa to Miss Trunchbull overnight, treating her progeny like any other cat unlucky enough to be in her vicinity, with a deep growl and a swift swipe. After this rejection, the kittens are on the road to becoming more human-friendly. But one kitten has remained skittish.
A fluffy boy, who I decided to call Split because that’s what he does whenever I’m around, will not get close to me.
At feeding time Split hides until he is confident it’s only him and his siblings in the area, then he tentatively approaches his bowl, eyes whizzing around as if looking out for an eagle that might swoop down. I’ve tried everything with Split: creepy baby voice, normal human voice, Dalek voice, prolonged eye contact, no eye contact, hugs, pats, kisses, soft toys, hard toys, string, laser pen, titbits, cat nip, talk therapy, aversion therapy, music, muzak, silence, disco, balls, baubles, buttons and bits of bacon; nothing has worked.
One frosty morning, I pick him up while he is snoozing next to the radiator. I hold on to him, lightly stroking his forehead until he stops wriggling, scratching and biting. Half an hour later, I slowly release him from my bloody hands, optimistic he will stay put because I’ve doused him with enough love to teach him he can trust me, but split is what he does.
I’m worried he may be like this forever unless I help him. I call Lucy Hoile, who has been a cat behaviourist for 15 years. Her interest in the subject began as a hobby and blossomed into a full-time job as more and more people needed her advice. I tell Hoile all about Split, his nervousness compared to his chilled siblings, and my failed attempts to put him at ease. Hoile says that the period between the ages of two and eight weeks are crucial in a kitten’s development. “If something significant happens during that window – such as someone accidentally stepping on their tail or dropping a frying pan near them, they might become fearful of noises and wary of people. That one experience will be enough to shape their behaviour for the rest of their life.”
I have no idea what made Split so jumpy. Hoile explains that he is not a lost cause, but I must let him take the lead. “Everything has to be on their terms. If you approach them, you’ll probably find that they will run and hide. So, what he needs is someone to sit with him and just spend lots of time with him in a really calm and gentle way.”
Hoile adds that this quiet, calm and gentle approach applies to nervous adult cats, too. The only difference is that if you manage to help a kitten get used to humans during their first eight-to-nine weeks, then they’re usually set for life: “Whereas with an adult, if they are already nervous about people and didn’t have those nice experiences with people before eight to nine weeks, taming them tends to happen on an individual basis – they will trust that one person who takes the time to build a relationship with them, but it won’t mean they are happy with all people.”
I think this is where I have been going wrong. My approach amounted to dangling string in front of Split’s face, waiting for him to get close enough to pet and then spooking him with my descending hand.
According to Anita Kelsey, cat behaviourist and author of Claws: Confessions of a Professional Cat Groomer, patience is key. Instead of getting in its face, build up trust over time. “Not all cats are naturally confident and affectionate lap cats. Some are naturally more timid and that’s OK. The best approach is to lower your expectations, respect their fears and allow them to retreat when they feel the need.”
Following Kelsey and Hoile’s advice to take a more equanimous approach to taming Split, one morning, I sit on my kitchen floor with a book and a bag of treats. Sure enough, Lucy and Rupert, her more outgoing kitten, approach and stare expectantly at me. Split hides behind a chair leg.
I turn a few pages of my book and dole out treats to Lucy and Rupert as they approach. Split licks his lips from behind the chair. I know he wants a treat, all he needs is the courage to come and get one. I carry on reading and Split is on the move – beginning a circuitous route under the dining table towards the treats in my lap. He is a foot away. The closest he has ever voluntarily been. I avoid eye contact. After dropping a few treats in front of him, which he gobbles up greedily, I test to see if he will take one from my hand. He is nervous, but I can see temptation getting the better of him. Suddenly, he lunges and plucks the treat from my thumb and forefinger. Over the next week, I have more treat sessions with him like this. Split is now nuzzling my hand and purring.
Is it all about food in the end? “Food can be a useful tool in building trust, but it shouldn’t be the only approach,” says Kelsey. “Other positive reinforcements, such as toys and catnip, can also help. The best thing you can do is sit quietly and let your cat come to you without expecting anything in return.”
But isn’t that the point of having a pet? You feed and shelter them and get to stroke their adorable heads in return? I worry that none of my cats love me, that all the nuzzling, sitting in my lap and purring has an ulterior motive: food.
“No, it’s definitely love and affection,” reassures Hoile. “They normally get positive attention from you when they’re in your lap. And it is love when it comes down to it, to be fair. If they want food from you, normally, they’ll be meowing. They’ll be rubbing around your ankles and it’s more active.”
It’s time for Split to split for good, as a family has agreed to adopt him. He still hates being held and remains suspicious of giants, so I don’t know if he will ever become a lap cat, but that’s OK. Some people just don’t like being touched, and apparently, cats are of the same disposition. “True hope lies in appreciating your cat as they are, allowing them space and time to grow, and accepting them even if they never become the cuddly companion you might have envisioned,” says Kelsey. Maybe cat owners just have to come to terms with this. For some, your relationship with your little fur ball will always be at arm’s length. Sorry.
