I think they use their noses when other options have exhausted themselves. In the main, cats appear to expect whatever it was that fell or was thrown to simply keep moving, so they try and anticipate where it’s going to be in order that they may time their pounce appropriately. Obviously, unless the object is still alive, it isn’t going to move. Cats don’t seem to get this, however, and when they fail to see it whip across their field of vision, they think they’ve lost track of it, so they spend a few moments waiting to see if it will zip back into view, or at the very least give some sign as to where it’s gone off to. When that doesn’t pan out, then they’ll go looking and sniffing about, and when they finally encounter the object, they’ll sniff at it once or twice and then seem to say to themselves, “No, this isn’t it. It isn’t moving.” If they’re hungry enough though, they might add, “…but I’ll eat it anyway while I keep an eye out for the moving thing.”
One our our cats – the aforementioned Tilly, in fact – does this. If it’s thrown though, and she loses track of it, the first thing she’ll usually do is look around, fail to find it, and then look at me expectantly, as if to say, “You were trying to trick me, weren’t you? You didn’t really throw it. Go on, throw it, I’m ready for it now. Come on! Throw it!”
Here I always thought that look was “You didn’t put it directly in my mouth. What, like I’m to expend my precious energy to go looking for some random morsel? I think not - try again.”
One of our cats is like that, but not Tilly. Tilly actually prefers treats she can chase. She’s more likely to eat a “live” treat than if you just put it down in front of her, and the more it bounces around in its futile attempt to escape, the more she enjoys denying it freedom.
Now Charlie, the “one” mentioned above, won’t chase treats. The deader, the better, as far as he’s concerned. He’s so lazy that if it’s not within comfortable reach of his mouth he’ll just stare at it forlornly, hoping it’s suicidal enough to just leap into his jaws.
My cat has just started coming into the kitchen and mewing piteously when I open a can of something. I get that this is normal cat behavior, but Duch, you’re nine years old. Why have you just started this now? I need the tuna I just opened. And now she turns up her nose at the cat treats I throw to pacify her. Durn animal.
My Oreo has decided that no matter where I put down the water dish, it is supposed to be two inches to the left. So the drill is, I put down the dish, she comes along and whacks it with her paw to move it, water splashes up in her face, she glares at me like it’s *my/i] fault, and then she drinks.
Give her the water or oil you drain off the tuna. That’s what she wants. Two of the Bodoni cats are addicted to that liquid. The third only wants his kibble.
It’s been proven that cats, especially lions, don’t use their incredible sense of smell to its full extent; they don’t understand about being upwind and downwind from prey so it’s a bloody wonder they can catch anything at all.
Cats rely on their highly acute vision which is focused on moving objects, as a lot of cat owners will notice. That’s got a lot to do with why cats won’t eat food not into the bowl but will dive for falling morsels (especially the bits you don’t want them to eat!).
My cat, Saturn will knock everything off your bedside table if you don’t get up. Right now she lives with my mum and stepdad. She LOVES my stepdad for his velcro facial hair. LOVES IT. She’ll hop up on his bedside table and thwip, oh look the cell phone is on the floor. Are you up? No? whap Ooh, there go your glasses. Up yet? boot Bye bye paperback. Have you gotten the message yet? paws at lamp Oh you’re up. I want to go out.
Oh, yes. When Cricket was just a wee baby, one of her favorite methods of getting attention when she felt she wasn’t getting enough was to sit on the desk and sloooowly inch something (cigs and lighters were her favorites) over to the edge of the desk. If I hadn’t moved it back by the time it got to the very edge, over it went. She would watch it fall with intense interest, then look at me with a “I wonder how that happened” expression.
I sometimes think I give the cats credit for more intelligence than they give me credit for.
Oh. I’ve been giving her the can to lick after I scrape out the tuna. But last time she horked it up not a minute later so I guess I’ll try the water thing. Thanks!
Our Denver loves doing this too, except he likes coins. If we’re a little late getting up in the morning (in his opinion), he will get up on the table where I put my wallet and keys and coins and such, and push the coins over the edge, one at a time. Then he watches them fall and come to rest. Then he starts in on the next. It works to get us up because it’s like the water torture: you never know when the next “scrape…scrape…bounce” is coming. He seems to know the different coins too; some days, he only pushes quarters, other days, loonies and toonies, and still other days he doesn’t seem to care. “More intelligence than I give them credit for” is perhaps understating the situation. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I asked him for change of a five, and he made it.
Our Fiona loves to groom my beard. As I’ve mentioned before, she usualy leaves me looking pretty good. And as the recipient, I must say that it feels good. (No, I won’t return the favour in kind, though she does earn plenty of scratching behind her ears and under her chin, which she loves, this way.)
