Open Writing

In three previous columns I have described how my wife and I found and eventually brought home two fraternal Siamese cats, and our delight that they agreed to share their home with us. From the fluff balls we picked out from the breeder, Nikkei and Ling Ling, at 5 months old, are strong, beautiful and elegant youths, full the behavior one associates with that age group in either animals or humans.

It seems that almost each day they enter a new phase of their development: from the way they eat, and what they eat, to how they relate to one another and to us. I have long been an anecdotal observer of body language; convinced that it tells the observer more about the observed than words; so watching the boys and interpreting their thoughts has been intriguing.

Since the way our cats communicate verbally with us has limitations, their physical reactions are more helpful in explaining what’s going on with them. Take walking: there is the purely getting from here to there walk: there is the “I’ve gotta go – Now!” walk as they head for their litter tray, and the prancing walk they use when they have just thought of something new and interesting to do.

Then there are the various stalking modes; belly to the floor, neck stretched out in front, tail straight out behind them, and legs retracted, ready to spring. Given this intense posture, sometimes accompanied by wiggling of their rear ends, it’s surprising to see them abandon it without taking any action. It seems as though they either forgot what it was they were stalking, or just plain lost interest.

Cats are notorious for their short attention spans, but one thing ours never tire of is being petted. Nikkei and Ling Ling, like most cats, have ways of letting us know what gives them pleasure. This includes purring, rolling over on their backs so we can rub their bellies, and pushing their heads into our cupped hands.

This is the first time either my wife of I have owned two cats simultaneously, so it was a surprise to discover that cats actually pet each other. Our young fellows are very affectionate toward one another, not to say that they don’t enjoy play-fighting. I guess this prepares them for a life in the wild that we hope they’ll never experience.

Their development has also included an increasing awareness of the world outside our condo. It’s a second floor unit that overlooks a large pond, so they can sit at the window observing the wildlife that comes and goes.

Anything that moves is worthy of their intense scrutiny – a pair of ducks, a Blue Heron, a flock of Ibis, and even an occasional Turtle, slow moving though they may be. The level of their interest is also expressed by frequently standing up, turning around and then resuming the watchful sitting posture, front legs neatly together between their haunches, tips of tails gently twitching back and forth.

Their tails are yet another source of communication. If they’re pleased to see us or expecting a meal, their tails are straight up with just the tip curled over. If they are stalking, their tails are stretched out behind them, close to the floor. And if they are displeased with us their tails are waiving wildly about. When scared, their tails are like bottle brushes.

They communicate with each other by body language too, but also by throaty chirrups, and sometimes an exclamatory noise if one is being hurt by a too enthusiastic play tactic. They rarely meow at each other, except when they are separated by an accidentally closed door.

With growth, their strength has increased, and whereas it was once a major triumph to scale each step of the stairs, now they’re able to jump onto my desk, a height of 30 inches, with ease, and do. All in all, their maturing has only served to assure us that taking them on was one of the best decisions we have made recently. More anon.

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