Sunday, April 23, 2017

A Theory of Feline Elective Identity



            Albert Einstein warned us never to overlook the trivial cases. Therefore, when I noticed that, whenever I call one of my cats, the other cats come running, I figured I might be on to something.
            It is, after all, well known that cats don’t come when called. It is practically a Law of Nature. In fact, many experts have suggested that, in consequence, there is no point in naming a cat. This corollary has become equally well-known and accepted.
            However, people persist in naming cats. Human beings like to name things. It satisfies their deep-seated need for order. Even a creature that will not respond to a name must be named. This has given me an opportunity to make a series of observations.
            Cats do come when called; but the circumstances of the summons provide them the incentive. Specialists who train cats for TV and movies have long known that cats can learn tricks, but must be rewarded every time. Even outside of the movie studio, cats quickly learn that certain responses to certain human behaviours result in food. For instance, just the fact that I am in the kitchen tells the cats that food may be forthcoming. Speaking certain words in certain tones of voice will indeed result in the cats coming to me. These words include their names. ANY of their names. If I call one cat, any within earshot will usually respond, if I am in the kitchen. The presence of cooking aromas, whirr of the can opener, or clink of cutlery will also work. The words “breakfast,” “lunch,” “dinner,” “food,” “chicken,” “tuna,” and especially, “OOPS,” summon the cats as surely as their names.
            If I stand by a closed door and call, that’s another summons they will answer. They want their human to perform its door-opening function. Holding out the cat brush while calling is another sure summons. Again, it doesn’t matter what name is called. In addition to their names, I have used “Sweetheart,” “Fluffy Britches,” “Fatso,” “Fur Factory,” and less printable names, with no effect on the response.
            When secondary triggers are absent, calling the name does not work. The original Law goes back into effect. The most obvious indication of this is the experiment of letting the cats out onto the screened porch. They responded to my call when I opened the door to let them out, but if I subsequently open the door to call them in, no summoning word will work. The cats will come in only when it is their decision to do so.
            This behaviour is key to what I call the Theory of Feline Elective Identity. Any names we give cats are just meaningless sounds to them. They do learn words, but only such words as are associated with desirable rewards, and more as sounds, not actual words. This is a real clue to feline psychology: Do they have names for themselves? If not, why not? I believe they are intelligent enough to separate themselves from others and from their environment and have a strong sense of self-identity, even self-awareness. This is so much a part of the cat personality that they have no need for any name or designation other than their eternal, instinctive “I am.” Cats think in concepts, not words, since they have no words; a very advanced modality of intelligence, most experts agree. They already have an unshakable concept of identity, and need no other name.
            The sounds they learn as a summons from their human always are associated with a reward, and directly stimulate the cat’s essential core of identity. At the moment of response, that reward is the most important thing in the cat’s life. In a very real sense, the cat IS the word that summons it to the reward. Therefore, the cat’s identity depends on circumstances, changing from moment to moment as the cat weighs the desirability of offered rewards.
            Since humans equate “a summoning word” with “a name,” we can conclude that a cat’s name changes according to circumstances. It can be the name we give it, a nickname, another pet’s name, a human’s name, food-related words, or sounds, such as bells, can-openers, rattling treat-tins, and exclamations of “OOPS!”
            There it is, the Theory of Feline Elective Identity. As with any theory, observations and experiments are ongoing. The field shows promise, and further study is indicated.

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