Pluto the spaniel only has a couple of mostly unused chew bones that are “out” (on the floor). All of his soft/stuffed toys are up on top of a bookshelf, given to him only under supervision as he tends to rip them apart in short order, exposing stuffing and other parts I don’t want him to swallow.
The only soft toy he doesn’t attack is a giraffe from puppyhood that when jostled, plays a selection of Baroque tunes, causing him to back off, whine, and ultimately howl in apparent distress. The boy just isn’t into music from that era.
Somehow I don’t think he’d like a Wagner-playing giraffe either.
My three dogs have a clothes basket for their toys. They go into it throughout the day to pull out whatever strikes their fancy - usually a tug toy or a rawhide chewy. Numerous times a day, I pick up the ones they aren’t using and put them away just so it’s possible to walk through the living room without stepping on something. At any given time there are probably 10 toys laying on the floor and probably 50 under the couch and love seat.
Each night around 6pm when the Great Dane and boxer are sound asleep on the couch, the German shepherd begins his work. I’ll be watching TV and all of a sudden notice him trotting from the room where the toy basket is back to the living room. He will make at least 10 trips every night. He lays down with the toy and might chew on it for a bit and then up and away he goes to get another. When I watch him doing this, I either have the Mrs. Gultch/Wicked Witch (Wizard of Oz) song in my head or I think of the Bumpus Hounds on A Christmas Story when they come into the house for the turkey.
Our current dog is a champion at reading hand gestures. It’s really helpful…although his dachshund side sometimes makes him ignore us.
How do you direct a cat to a piece of food on the floor without gesturing or tapping your foot? I’ve always had dogs, and it’s become such a natural behavior for me.
Dogs use their eyes, too. My dogs have always done that. You just need to pay attention.
My cats do understand pointing. No problem. I can’t imagine why there is this myth that they don’t.
Well, maybe because cats don’t necessarily feel like doing things sometimes…because they are little shits sometimes. But pointing at food? No problem. Pointing to say get out of my chair, suddenly cat does not understand pointing.
Call the cat, so they’re looking at me (even if not coming.) Reach my hand down toward the piece, tap on the floor or chair leg (they’re responding to the sound, not to the hand position), look at the cat, look at the piece.
Sometimes works; sometimes doesn’t. Cats aren’t nearly as good food vacuums as dogs; sometimes they’re just not interested. But it’s often unnecessary; if I’m eating something really interesting, there may be a cat right next to me watching for something to fall. Or trying to get into my lap, a location from which a paw could reach out to the table; which is why it’s harder for a cat to get into my lap while I’m eating, and if one does get up there I’m likely to keep a firm grip. And push the plate back.
What the others said. Cats are highly sound oriented, so a whistle, tongue click, or clink of a plate will do the trick also. Not to mention the crinkle of a snack bag.
There are probably about twenty cat toys, mosty in a pile, a few scattered about and one that always finds its way into the food dish. Don’t know what that’s about.
Does anyone ask themselves why they have so many toys? I know my answer is “because the toys appeal to me” . There’s a little Mr. Bill, and an avocado toast, and a s’more. There’s a tiny lambchop in the cat cupboard that I can’t bring myself to sacrifice to the ferocious felines.
At least I know I appeal to them. I was at a party, and the party-throwers’ cat came into the room. She jumped up into my lap, and the owners gasped. They said she was a stray they were trying to get adjusted to them, but she never voluntarily approached people. Because she was in my lap, I started petting her, and I hear an even bigger gasp. Apparently, she never let anybody touch her. I felt a bit special.
Many humans who are trying to get a cat to approach them will look directly and intently at the cat.
Problem is, their intent’s very likely to be misinterpreted, especially by a cat who’s had reason to be shy of humans. An intent stare generally means one of three things: intimacy, at least between humans; fear (I’m watching you because I’m afraid you’re about to attack me!); or aggression/hunting behavior (I’m looking at you intently because I’m about to attack!).
Humans also use a direct gaze just to mean “I’m paying attention to you” or even “you can come over here now”; different societies have different rules about this, which can lead to misunderstandings between humans. But many cats, especially cats who are shy of humans, haven’t learned these meanings; and are likely to take a direct gaze from a much larger predator as a threat.
If you want to attract a cat: glance at the cat only very briefly, then close your eyes in a long slow blink and turn your head a bit away from the cat. That’s a very friendly gesture. You might have done it by accident; or you might just have been the one person in the room who wasn’t looking right at the cat.
Or you might just have the magic. Years ago, I was sharing a house with several people, one of whom was working at a place where a half-grown kitten was hanging around. The humans who ran the place fed the kitten when the tourists were looking, and kicked the kitten when the tourists weren’t looking (literally, he was terrified of a raised foot for much of his life.) One day my friend picked up the kitten and took him home. Kitten was three quarters starved and afraid of everybody except a dog who also lived there, who adopted him and let him nurse on her. He did not voluntarily sit on anybody other than the dog.
One day my mother came to visit. She sat down on the couch. Kitten promptly appeared and sat down on her; to gasps like the ones you describe from the rest of us. She had the magic.
(He eventually took to sitting on other people. I wound up with him. One of the things I’m proud of in my life was that I eventually got that cat to trust me enough to let me pat him with my feet.)
From where I’m sitting I count eight actual cat toys, a paper bag they like to squeeze into even though they don’t quite fit, and a couple other random things that have become cat toys. Every room in the house has at least a few cat toys on the floor.
A favorite game is 'how many toys can we bring into the bedroom while Mom is sleeping?" Every morning I wake up to a pile of toys on the floor by the bed.
Uncountable, really. They’re in storage bins (from which they get pulled), all over the floor, and under furniture. we’re constantly find them in unexpected places.
Our one cat’s favorite is a round thing that rotates an arm randomly under a circular cloth cover. Hermes, the younger cat, likes to have it turned on and frequently just watches it, without pouncing. At night he will garb it by the arm and drag it up and down the hallway, usually leaving it just outide a bedroom door.
Just this morning I got baby carrots from the fridge to make skinny matchstick size for the kids to eat with dip. ( I’m trying to get them to eat healthier snacks)
I dropped one on the floor. The Cat vs Dog carrot soccer match started. It was hilarious.
Finally Betsy the Beagle got it and ate it. And she begged for more.
Inspired by this thread, I decided to keep a theft diary for Cygnus the cat. These do not include cat toys, cat snacks, miscellaneous paper bits (reciepts, etc.), failed attempts, or cases of merely swatting an item off a table. And of course this only includes items that I know about. In all cases, he nabbed the item and made it at least several feet away (usually more). In the case of the shrimp, I was not able to retrieve the item.
