stimulus and response
LIVING WITH A CAT AND A DOG
A lost kitten came skittering into our house some time ago and lodged itself behind the refrigerator. I put out food and water which disappeared overnight but it was a long while before it was brave enough to show its scrawny ginger face in our presence. Someone ventured that the soothing warmth and hum of the refrigerator motor must have reminded it of its mother.
If only all mothers were so simply substituted. When my wife was away and the kids missed her, I suggested that they might like to curl up behind the refrigerator too. They thought this was ridiculous and a little bit callous. Where would a kitten go if it missed its father, I wondered out loud, trying to shift the subject sideways but stumbling into a trap. “Inside the refrigerator where it’s cold and dark,” grumbled my daughter. Touché! “In the toilet because it smells like farts,” said my son, kicking me while I was down.
Eventually the kitten decided to join us and from that point on, the stray became the pampered family pet. The kids fought for their turn to play with him, dragging pieces of string, my wife cooed about his softness, and the responsibility of feeding and watering stayed with me. Pussy, as he was dubbed, latched onto my main purpose in life pretty quickly: whenever he was hungry he would hurl himself at my feet and sink his teeth into my ankles. The rest of the family, my wife especially, thought this was hilarious but although no blood was spilt, as time passed the joke wore thin.
Then we moved into a house with a resident dog, Jimbaran or Jimmy for short. Cat and dog never really worked out an entirely agreeable relationship, but the cat found routes through the compound that the dog couldn’t reach and eventually, in spite of the Bali dog’s remarkable climbing skills, he even gave up trying. Typical of many Bali dogs, Jimmy was loyal but excitable and therefore slightly unpredictable. He was also something of a liability. More than once I had to rescue a farmer’s duck from his jaws. Worse was his tendency to nip at people’s feet, usually the moment he’d stopped chasing his own tail. Children, adults, friends, family, intruders, he wasn’t fussy. But maybe because I was the one who always fed him, he never once bit me, which made a pleasant change. Dogs, unlike cats are always looking for ways to please their masters and mistresses; that is, the people who give them food. Often they get it wrong. Sometimes they get it right.
Patterns in behaviour, your own, even those of the people closest to you, can take a while to recognise but it didn’t take long to recognise Jimmy’s. Whenever he was hungry, he bit my wife, which I have to admit, was pretty funny. He lunged, she screamed, I laughed, he got fed. Then it was the cat’s turn. It was enough to make Pavlov drool
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