My cat learned a trick!

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Baby is a largish cat, a fun cat, a beautiful cat, a loving cat - but he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Doors still puzzle him - he hasn’t figured out how to push them open like his little brother, Jelly, so he just yells at them in the hopes that something magical will happen.
BUT - he managed to teach himself a certain behavorial trick, and seems to have picked up on a simple command Mrs. Lacha & I have been saying to him for a while.
He loves the whole feather-on-a-string-attached-to-a-pole toy, but he broke it - pulled the feather right off the little holder, and then he chewed on the holder so that nothing else is able to be attached. So now he just goes bonkers chasing the end of the string around on the floor.
Used to be, he’d catch the string and wouldn’t let go. To allow the game to continue, we’d touch his lower jaw, and say “Mouth!” Eventually, he’d get the idea and drop the string, and the antics would continue until we’d let him keep the string, and then he’d wander off, dragging the stick behind him. He’d lie down on the mat by the front door, and mess with his “kill,” until it wasn’t fun anymore.
Two days ago, things changed. He took the string to the door, dropped it - and then picked it back up and brought it back to where we were. He then stood there, staring up at us, ready to play again. Without touching him, I said “Mouth,” and after a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the string! This cycle was repeated a couple of times, each time bearing the same result.
Yesterday, tried it again: the chase, the capture, the carrying away of the prey… and then the return and the dropping when “Mouth” was said.
This evening, same thing. So I’m thinking that this is a bit more than a fluke. He seems to have actually picked up a bit of training.
Still can’t figure out doors, though.

Anyone else have cats who have been trained?

2

Our guys are well trained to ignore me on command.

3

coos Oh, look! **Baby **taught Daithi Lacha how to say “Mouth” on command! How cute!

:smiley:

4

LOL!
:stuck_out_tongue:

5

Lessee… training…

Daniel mostly comes when I click my tongue and snap my fingers. He knows this means I want to give him some attention.

And they both come when I call, “Food time!” in a specific high-pitched tone.

They both know they’re BADCATS if I growl, “NO!” at them.

6

My older girl, Sebastian, plays fetch without any commands. I just throw her favourite poufball toy, she runs out, picks it up, and drops it back at my feet. If I’m not paying attention to her, she will drop it on my lap, or on whatever it is I am paying attention to, ie: my newspaper, into my cereal bowl, onto the laptop, on my knitting, etc.

My baby girl, Kero, comes when called. Or if you just slap your lap a few times, she understands that means she is welcome to come up, and even if she is sitting comfortably on the other end of the apartment, she’ll come running. She also “talks”. She doesn’t “meow”, but she makes a funny little cooing noise that sounds like she’s asking a question: “Urrrr?” (gently roll your “r’s” to make the sound). If you make a similar sound back to her, she’ll continue making those noises until you stop.

They’re interesting little critters.

7

Oh, yeah, and if I clap, they know they’re doing something bad. I don’t even have to get up out of my chair anymore, I just clap and they jump down/drop/stop fighting/stop clawing the sofa immediately. They usually lay down and look bored in protest, but if they are in an active mood, they will dash down the hallway together and jump into the bed, hiding under the blankets or pillows. If you chase them when they do this, they will roll over onto their backs in surrunder, grabbing at your hands and wrist to pull you down close enough to rub their faces all you and give your knuckles a nibble.

8

One of ours has learned the words “mouse” and “mice” . . . in reference to the little toy mice with which she likes to play fetch. If she overhears one of those words, within a few minutes she’ll toddle off to find one and bring it to you. Of course, this means that if you don’t want to play, you have to be careful to say M-O-U-S-E.

9

My younger (8+ years) cat, Taz, is affectionate, personable, loving and quite possibly the stupidest vertebrate in the known universe. If fed in the house, he will ignore his food and yowl incessantly to be let outside, where he expects to be fed something else. If I bring the EXACT SAME CATFOOD outside, he will eat it happily. The reverse is true if his food is outside.

He will also yowl incessantly to be let in or out of the house at whatever hour of the day it strikes his fancy. His fancy is usually struck between 2:30 and 4:30 AM. Because of this, he spends many of his nights locked in my tool shed. It is a comfortably appointed shed. He has his own sleeping area, food and water, and I keep it heated in the winter. A few years ago we installed a cat door in the shed so he could get out of the rain, because he’s too stupid to come inside. Honest, he’ll stand by the back door yowling, but as soon as you open it, he walks away from you like you were handing out flyers at the mall. Anyway, the cat door has a 4-position latch thingy so you can have it be open, enter only, exit only or closed. So now when he’s in lockdown, I put the latch on. After a day or two, he’s back to yowling outside the window at 3:00 AM. Thinking it’s a fluke, we lock him up again. Same result, yowling cat. The moron has figured out the latch.

So, using an old metal shelf and some aluminum channel I build a sliding door that covers the cat door, or slides up out of the way when not needed. This will fix him, thinks I. Since the door slides freely, he’d have to hold it up while he was going out. He’ll never be able to figure it out. Never is apparently two nights to this cat. Now we have to wedge the door shut to keep him in. So why is it when he’s in the shed with me, does he stand in front of the open cat door and yowl until I push his head through it? He can defeat a series of locks, but he won’t go through the door on his own. Stupid.

He is now often referred to as “The Mayor” as in the Mayor of Shedville.

His latest discovery is how to open the door leading from the garage to the house. I installed a lever-type handle on that door a few ytears ago when the original knob packed it in. I find the lever handles a lot more convenient, and so does Taz. The first few times we found the garage door standing open, Mrs. Rhubarb and I blamed each other or one of the children, but then the wife decided that it was the cat leaving the door open. Her suspicions were confirmed when I was awoken one morning by a sproingy noise coming from the garage. When I jerked the door open, there was Taz, clinging to the door facing with three paws and using the fourth to bat at the door handle. Of course, he’s not as smart as this makes him sound, because the door had already popped open about an inch, and he was still swinging away.

I’m just glad he hasn’t formed an affection for unrolling the toilet paper. I don’t know how I’d be able to lock that up.

10

Squash taught himself to fetch, with minimal human encouragement. He went through a phase where his favorite fetch toy was a plastic fork. Now he prefers those little multicolor fuzzy cat-toy balls. He’s usually very good about bringing his toy back and dropping it in my lap, or next to my head when I’m in bed.

Of course, sometimes he’d rather just kill his prey.

He’s the third cat I’ve had that figured out “Fetch” but the only one that has continued playing it as an adult. The other two started in late kittenhood and lost interest when they were fully grown.

11

Tarot plays fetch all the time (it’s her favorite game) and will sit on command.
(No, really!)
We’re working on teaching her to lay down, but it’s a slow process.
She also comes when you call.
She’s cat-shaped, but acts far more like a dog.

12

Lou has been taught to scratch on an appropriate object (never displayed any interest whatsoever in the three different scratching posts we tried, so it’s just something he can’t damage, like the book case or a cardboard box) before being fed. We stand there with the food and say, “C’mon, now, give us a scratch,” and food is withheld until the scratch is forthcoming, even if it means putting it back into the bag if the cat refuses or gets distracted and wanders away (but that hasn’t happened for a looonnng time.)

Scratching on one of the approved objects has become a hungriness signal. I think this has saved some wear and tear on the couch, though it’s still looking pretty sad.

13

My father taught our dearly-departed Babu how to retrieve small rubber balls, shake hands and stand up (squat sitting on his two back legs with two front paws held up in front of him). Whenever he did any of these things he would have the most disdainful look on his face. It was awesome. I don’t think people would believe me except my father made Babu perform for every person that made it into our house-even workmen.

Latest round of cats are adorable but not as sharp as our darling Babu.

14

I always make a high-pitched mimimimi-sound when I put down the food for Koppie, and he recognizes it as “come here, there is something nice here”. So he usually eitther coems or mews from a distance. Which is very useful if I would ever lose him and he would be stuck in a basement or garage or something. “mimimi!” “mew!”

When I sit down, Koppie often saunters around my feet, looking up at me in a "is it OK to jump in your lap?"way. I pat my lap with a flat hand while looking at him, and this is our mutually understood signal for “yes, it is ok”. I always, unconsciously, patted my legs as an invitation to him, and one day I noticed he had understood the gesture.

Smart cat. Grouchy, nervous, agressive, but smart.

15

We have two cats, Bern and Clee. Bern is the sharp one. Clee? Well, she’s somewhat “special”.
Bern will sit in front of me and meow. Loudly. If I don’t repsond, she’ll pat me with her paw while meowing. “What do you want, Bern?” If it’s food, she’ll go into the kitchen, walk a circle in front of the pantry, and open the door. Then she will sit in front of it and stare/meow until I get up. If it’s water, she’ll go in the bathroom doorway, plunk down, and meow. Clee, in her psycho way, will wait until I’ve opened the cans of cat food, I’ll turn around, and there she’ll be. Staring at me. Somewhat scarily. They both will sit up for their food no questions asked.

If Clee wants to be petted she will sit in front of me and ever so delicately paw at my foot. If I say to come up, only then will she jump on my lap. If I say not now, she’ll walk away. Bern, OTOH, will meow until I give up and pet her. The brat. Her newest trick is “Bern, go to your bed!” and she will go and plunk herself down in her basket. Of course it’s meowmeowmeow the whole way there.

16

All four of mine know their names but only three will actually come when I call them. The aptly named Queen Maeve prefers that I come to her. Or not, that would be just fine too. However, at night when I tell her it’s “bedtime” she will trot down the hallway and sit in front of the bedroom door waiting for me to let her in.

Now, somehow Piper has managed to effectively train me to brush him every night before I go to bed. I failed to notice until it was too late. :slight_smile: