Nefertiti is an intelligent cat. Too intelligent sometimes. She has always been inclined to play with items left on surfaces such as chests of drawers and bedside cabinets. Over time, she has realised that there is a benefit to this activity.
When I was suffering from an over active bladder – that, as it turned out was BPH – I was getting up in the night. Well, more like 04:00. Wandering back through the kitchen to the bedroom, I would sometimes treat the cats to an early breakfast. This was usually because I was up, so they assumed it was breakfast time. Since I’ve been taking medication for the BPH, I’ve been sleeping through the night. Nefertiti has decided that this really isn’t on. Breakfast, as far as she is concerned is 04:00 and 04:00 it should remain.
So she would sit on my bedside cabinet and knock items off – wrist watch, deodorant bottles, anything that will make a noise. She would do this and watch for signs of life from me. Of course, on waking up, I would get up, respond to the bladder and go downstairs to the toilet, preceded by a fluffy column of cats that would carry on to the kitchen and wait not very patiently for the tins to be opened. So, yes, I would then feed them. Big mistake. Deciding that I would rather not get up, I tried ignoring it. I would keep my eyes closed and ignore the needling from my bladder. Unimpressed, Nefertiti knocked things off with increased vigor. I reached out and batted her off the cabinet. She scrabbled at the cables beside the cabinet – just out of my reach. The more I ignored it, the louder and more vigorous became the scrabbling – interrupted by pauses as she would look up to see if her actions were having the desired effect.
Mrs L came up with a solution. Put her outside. Once she realised that the behaviour didn’t result in food, she would tire of it. The first time I tried this, there followed a couple of hours peace as a bemused cat thought about this before trying again. It took a couple of days before she got the message. She then tried Mrs L’s side of the bed. This resulted in the same response – a half-asleep biff and then the naughty step.
Nefertiti didn’t come down with the last shower of rain. She knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. If the bedside cabinets are in reach of a half-asleep arm, the chest of drawers certainly isn’t and there’s plenty of stuff on there to knock down. In my semi-comatose state, I watch her with one eye as she lifts one of Mrs L’s bracelets with a claw before flinging it across the room. Or she will gently nudge a box of earrings to the edge before giving it a good bat. She will then look across to see if it has garnered the appropriate reaction.
Another trip to the naughty step by the front door results in a period of confusion before the arms race moves up a notch. This morning, Mrs L told me that upon seeing that she was awake, the miscreant shot across the room, down the stairs and hid under the table where she couldn’t be reached, thereby avoiding the naughty step.
The ball is in our court, I guess. Yes, we could shut the bedroom door, but I suspect that the gentle scritch, scritch against the door would get on our nerves. As this little battle of wills progressed, the disturbance has moved from around 04:00 to a more sensible hour – anything from 06:00 to 07:00. On the one hand, we are annoyed by the disturbance, yet on the other, we can’t help but admire the strategic thinking going on as she develops her next move. Interestingly none of the other cats indulge in this behaviour. Thank the lord she doesn’t have opposable thumbs.
Nice one, reminds me of my old cat Tuggers, he would do the same, realising that the bedside cabinet knock offs , got him biffed to the floor, he moved to the cabinets & bookcase at the foot of the bed. It was very amusing watching him select the item, moving it gently to the edge, glancing at me and then pushing it off.
The cunning bit was that he only did this prior to 6.30. Once the alarm went off, he resorted to ‘face patting’ as if he knew I had to be up now and was doing me a favour.
Although at weekends it was a bit of a pain as his internal clock told him I should be up and ‘face patting’ commenced.
Cats, no concept of weekends
We got a rescue cat last year, just as the cold weather was starting, and we decided that outside was not an option until the Spring (all our cats have been outside cats so far). So she finds her way into the bedroom (another first) and starts smacking us about in the middle of the night, wanting food or a play. Putting her outside the bedroom and closing the door just led to carpets being ripped up and paintwork scratched. We now have an uneasy compromise where she sleeps on the bottom of the bed and if she acts up, she gets booted off and onto the floor. Seems to be working so far. She hasn’t learned to knock things over. Yet.
Dogs hve owners.
Cats have STAFF
We have 3 cats, well 2 cats and a very recently aquired kitten, who by seniority in age are called Tigger, because of his very unusual markings, Whisky, because he is black and white and Beeza ( don’t ask ), who is the kitten, a very fluffy grey cross with white feet and bib.
When Whisky was young and decided that he wanted feeding at 5.00 a.m., still before he was an adult, he used to press the buttons on the bedside electric alarm radio until the radio came on and woke us up. He has taught this to the other two who now when they want attention walk on the keyboard whilst in front of the Mac until they freeze the computer, it’s a new generation Mac Mini supposedly un-crashable, but they manage it! Having said that three more affectionate cats would be hard to find and Whisky keeps me company when I am working in the Garage. Cats, I love ’em!
Reminds me of ‘Simons Cat’
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0ffwDYo00Q
Very much like Simon’s cat. She wrote the script.
If Nefertiti had opposable thumbs she could get her own breakfast.
Greg said:
“Dogs have owners.
Cats have STAFF.”
And very elderly cats have slaves who must pander to their every whim or face the dreaded hurt-n-confused expression. Gets me every damned time.
You mean she hasn’t learned to dive under the duvet and stick her claws in your feet yet?
Luckily, I’m up at 5:00am every day (holidays and weekends included) so this doesn’t have to happen here.. 😉
One of ours is blessed – cursed from our point of view – with a level of patience that would make Job look like a six-year old with ADD who’s been given a load of sugar dissolved in Red Bull. Feet, legs, crotch or chest, all may be sat on and kneaded, and when this results in being pushed of the bed she gets on again. And again. And again. And so on. She’ll keep this up until we either crack or have grumped enough to wake the the other one. Since his strategy is simply to howl and howl until he wakes the fucking dog, at which point the war is lost as far as we’re concerned, there’s a limit to what we can do about the first one walking all over us. Fortunately it doesn’t happen at 4am but weekend lie-ins do depend on being allowed to by pets.
For all that about dogs and cats, I’d still prefer to have cats.
One of ours, likes nothing better that to sleep on top of the wardrobe and then at 3am on-the-dot, launch herself onto the bed and me in particular. If that doesn’t get me up she stands on the missus like a statue until the pressure gradually builds up and the missus can’t breathe. Always works. I’ve tried locking her out but she just spends the rest of the night scratching at every door/window until we relent. It’s a battle of wills and I’m losing. I don’t know why we bother going to bed sometimes. The only thing that works is copious amounts of red wine (for us, not the cat).
Two things you need to buy, and use.
1. A potty. Keep it under the bed.
2. A water pistol. Loaded with tap water please, not the contents of item 1. Keep it by the bed.