How does a kitten become a cat?
Lots of ways, and Cats Confidential presents fascinating highlights of the learning process in a new book entitled How To Be A Cat, Conversations with Smokey and Timothy. It contains selections from what has been, for the past five years, one of the most popular features of our newsletter.
A kitten can learn to be a cat in a number of different ways. It learns from its mother. It learns from experience (often the hard way). It learns from its humans. And sometimes, though very, very rarely, it learns from an older cat friend.
Timothy, a solid black kitten, was born in 2001 and was one of four siblings in his mother’s third and final litter. He and all his littermates were rather wild and not too friendly to the humans at the Grey Rocks Cat Sanctuary.
Timothy’s mother, after doing a good job of raising the three kittens in her previous litter, disappeared. And so did Timothy’s three siblings. Coyotes were seen in our area around that time.
And so Timothy was pretty much on his own while he was still a kitten.
But he found a friend. An elderly (probably seven- or eight-year-old) dark gray cat named Smokey, who himself had come to the Sanctuary as a young cat barely out of kittenhood, had put up with the hassles he was subjected to by the older cats and had become one of the most gentle, liked and respected senior felines.
And, remarkably, he formed a real attachment to Timothy, the little black kitten who wanted so badly to be his friend.
This relationship lasted for several years. The two were always together, and we know they were communicating about the subject of how to be a cat. Cats don’t record their conversations but Smokey and Timothy were kind enough to project some of their discussions into the minds of Cats Confidential writers, and we reported them in each issue of our newsletter.
Little Timothy was a hit from the start, and his conversations with Smokey were noted by other writers and have been published in three countries.
We have heard from a number of readers who urged us to compile some of the more popular cat conversations into a booklet. And so we've done this.
Following is an excerpt from the new book, How To Be A Cat, Conversatons with Smokey and Timothy.
Chapter 1
Little Ears Appears
It was almost mealtime at the Grey Rocks Cat Sanctuary, and Smokey was relaxing on the wide front porch, keeping watch over the flagstone front walk extending from the porch out to the steps down to the street. This was the life, he was thinking. Two generous meals a day, plenty of time to relax, and best of all, no more hassles with the older cats because now he, Smokey, was an older cat. And a cat very much respected not only by his humans but by his fellow cats.
He scratched behind an ear -- one that still had some notches in it from feline disagreements of years past. He tried to recall what the fights had been over. Females or food, he supposed. But he couldn’t really remember.
Smokey was a dark gray cat with medium long fur, which for reasons unknown turned light gray on his back and stomach in the winter and then reverted to the natural dark color of his head and legs when the weather warmed up.
He stretched and yawned. But suddenly something got his attention, somthing out where the steps from the front walk went down to the street. Cats’ eyes are very good at distances, and he was sure he was seeing two tiny ears sticking up above the top step. Two ears and then two little eyes.
Instantly his memory reminded him of how, when he was a very young cat, he had climbed the steps from the street and cautiously looked over the top step to be sure there were no unfriendly older cats on the walk. The humans noticed him doing this and laughed about the “little ears,” and that had been his nickname while he was growing up. He remembered how, if the coast was clear, he would hurry up to the porch to see if there was any leftover food; and, if not, he would go around back to the kitchen windows, where the big cats ate.
If any were still there, he would promptly be chased away and had to wait until all the dishes were abandoned. But there was almost always something left over, and he usually had an adequate meal, if not an entirely fresh one.
He sat watching the new “little ears,” which climbed cautiously up onto the front walk. It was a kitten, a small black one. Maybe four or five months old at the most.
Smokey settled into a crouch. He didn’t want to scare the newcomer away. He watched as the kitten approached. He knew there was a little food left in one of the bowls.
The kitten sniffed everything as he came up the walk, and he finally noticed Smokey crouched above him on the porch. He froze, trying to decide whether to run away.
As cats are able to do, Smokey projected a signal that he was a friend, and the kitten received it. Very carefully, he approached Smokey and when he got near enough they touched noses. Silently, Smokey assured him there was nothing to fear. He got up and walked to the bowl which still had food in it, and the kitten followed him, and when he saw the bowl he dived right in and ate and ate and ate. Smokey watched, remembering how good stale leftovers used to taste when you hadn’t had anything to eat for a long time.
When the kitten had licked the bowl clean he began to groom himself, and Smokey decided to initiate a feline conversation. Mind to mind, of course, the way cats communicate.
“Get enough to eat, buddy? Pretty good, huh? They’ll be puttin’ out supper soon, and I’ll save you some if you wanta stick around.”
The kitten looked at him and then came over and nuzzled him. “Thank you, sir.” The kitten knew he had finally found a friend.
Smokey lay back down, and the kitten did the same.
“Where you from, buddy? Haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I don’t have a regular home, sir. I was born in the basement of this house. That’s why I came back. I just live in the woods now and try to catch a mouse every now and then and sometimes a chipmunk if it’s not too big.”
“Where’s your Mama, boy? Does she live around here?”
The kitten licked a paw and washed his face. “I guess she’s gone. I haven’t seen her for a long time. I had some brothers, too, and a sister, but I haven’t seen them either.”
Smokey knew there were coyotes around and he could easily guess what had happened to the kitten’s family. “Hey, why don’t you stay here? The humans are really nice. And you’ll get plenty to eat. When the weather gets colder they may even let you come in the house. Got a big ol’ stone fireplace in there. And a nice soft rug in front of it. Great place to sleep.”
He could see the kitten was interested, but still a little scared. “I ran into some humans the other day. They had a dog and they weren’t very nice to me.”
Smokey scratched behind his ear. “Well, some humans are like that. But our humans here love us cats and I promise they’ll be nice to you.”
The kitten looked directly at Smokey, his eyes closing slowly and then opening again. “I guess you live here, sir. Sir, will you be my friend?”
Smokey had never been asked to be anybody’s friend before, and it touched him deeply. “Why sure, buddy. Sure.”
The kitten continued. “I don’t have any friends, sir, but I do have an older half sister and half brother who live here, and I’d like to get to know them better. Their names are Melanie and Patrick. I’d really like it if you’d let me stay. Then maybe you could help teach me to be a cat. My Mama was just starting to teach me when she disappeared. You’re a very handsome cat, sir. I’d like to grow up to be just like you.”
Smokey had never received a compliment like that from anybody, humans included. “Well, thank you buddy. My name’s Smokey. And if you stay here the humans will give you a name. Sure, I’ll be your friend. And I’ll be glad to let you know what little I know about bein’ a cat. Do we have a deal?”
He could see the kitten was overjoyed. “Just one thing, sir. Like most cats, I guess, I never knew my daddy. Would it be all right if I called you Uncle Smokey?”
Smokey decided that had a nice ring to it. “Sure, buddy. I’d be honored. Hey, I think the humans are gettin’ ready to serve supper. You come with me and we’ll see if they won’t give you a little bowl too. Oh, and don’t worry about the other cats. They’re mostly nice, but just don’t try to eat out of anybody else’s bowl. That’s lesson number one in bein’ a cat. Steal food and they’ll run you off real fast.”
The kitten trotted along behind Smokey to where the dishes were being served. “I’ll remember, Uncle Smokey. I’ll remember.”
