The Devious Book for Cats

by Joe Garden

  Most humans also think all naps are just about the same. Cats know nothing could be further from the truth. There are hundreds of varieties of naps, and a proper time and place for each. Would you ever try to doze in a closet? Of course not. That’s the place to go for a little shut-eye. And who would take a snooze right after din-din? Certainly not you! That’s the time to catch some z’s. Here’s a guide to some of our favorite napping styles, to help make sure you choose the right one.

  Snooze: Those three to four hours between lunch and dinner in the mid-afternoon are the perfect time for a snooze. The snooze is the uncontested King of Naps and is best enjoyed on a blanket-covered lap. It’s even better if your person is snoozing beneath you. The snooze is a perennial favorite of the rock ’n’ roll cat who loves to play all day and party all night. You wake up feeling refreshed and ready to eat and bash into things. More things.

  Snoozing

  Doze: If you’ve ever been in a hurry to nap but didn’t have time for a snooze, you’ve probably chosen a doze. Dozing off is fulfilling at any time of day, but especially during news programs, political round-table discussions, and soap operas. The classic doze incorporates quick bursts of deep restfulness punctuated by an occasional meow, just to check in with your person or other feline roomies. That way, if something interesting is happening, you can get up and investigate. Though most cats believe a doze can be interrupted any number of times without diluting the quality of the dozing, some cats think three interruptions is too many. If this occurs, just get up and nibble on a little something before trying a different nap style.

  Dozing

  Resting: A rest is a wonderful starter nap and makes a great prelude to a doze. Ideally you’ll enjoy resting best in the evening, on the bed while your person is reading a steamy paperback romance or watching a gripping medical drama. A true rest includes vigorous purring, intense snuggling, and at least four full body repositionings on your human’s head, face, chest, and stomach.

  Resting

  Catching Some Z’s: Z’s are a great pick-me-up and the perfect way to rest worn-out paws after painstakingly unraveling a handmade shawl. Catch some lying in the “sun spot” on top of the loveseat or, alternately, the warm space on top of the television. Snoring is encouraged during this fifteen-to-twenty-minute restorative. The most widely photographed nap in the canon.

  Catching some z’s

  Catnapping

  Catnap: This classic, all-purpose nap works wonders on all the major napping muscles. It can be taken whenever and wherever you like, and lasts exactly as long as you please. Just plop yourself right down wherever you are and drift off into slumber. You’ll sleep most soundly when positioned inconveniently. Aim to stretch out across the lap of someone who has to relieve themselves, or spread out over the receipts at tax time.

  “The Siesta”

  Siesta: The cat who had a little too much fun running up and down the stairs the night before will often choose a refreshing siesta to recharge. The siesta is a festive slumber that gatitos have been taking for centuries, and there’s no better way to say buenas noches.

  Shut-eye: Cats in the armed forces have been getting a little shut-eye whenever they could since way back in the days of the Revolutionary War. It is believed that Paul Revere’s cat, Breetches, perfected the style when she was supposed to be on lookout for the British. Nowadays, it makes no difference whether you’re stationed on an aircraft carrier or in a kitty carrier. You can sneak in a little shut-eye no matter where you’re deployed. Take it whenever you can get it.

  Getting some shut-eye

  Extraordinary Cats in History—Part II

  ISAAC NEWTON’S CATS

  Between his groundbreaking astronomical findings, discovering the laws of gravity, and dividing the visible light spectrum, Sir Isaac Newton wasted a lot of people’s time. Many contend that the one innovation of any real use, the kitty door, is not even his to claim. In fact, Charles R. Gibson notes in his Stories of Great Scientists that “It would be difficult to realize Newton taking care of a dog or a cat, he was so unmindful of himself.”

  In our estimation, Gibson was half right. After examining the historical record, we have reached our own theory: Newton did have cats, as evidenced by the kitty doors on his home, but there is no way that bumbling nerd took proper care of them. Thus, the logical conclusion is that Newton’s cats, and not Newton, invented the kitty door, since the device would have enabled the cats to enjoy the outdoors whenever they pleased without having to rely on their so-called “genius” of a person.

  Furthermore, we believe we have discovered how the landmark invention came into being: On a pleasant English afternoon in the late seventeenth century, Newton was toiling away on something or other that only sophomore physics majors care about when his cat and her kitten informed him that they wanted to sunbathe and that he should open the front door for them posthaste. Ever the absentminded professor, he thoughtlessly ignored his cats, so they set their keen intellects to finding a solution for themselves.

  Newton’s cats went straight for their Eukittyian math textbook, cracked it open, studied for nineteen seconds, became distracted by a hovering beetle, licked each other, ripped up some document called “An Astounding New Law of Physics Proving Humans Can Fly on Their Own,” took a nap, and then jotted down this landmark equation:

  Simply put, it states that a rectangular opening roughly three centimeters larger than the height and width of a cat provides the most efficient means of temporary domestic escape. Newton’s kitten posited that a flap affixed to the top of the hole would keep out both unwanted precipitation and squirrels too dumb to figure out how to go through it.

  Newton’s cat and kitten considered building the hole in the door themselves, but then recalled every physicist’s duty to follow the path of least resistance. In this case, that meant sharing the equation with Newton so that he’d build the door for them. Upon reviewing their findings, Newton promptly built a hole for his cat, and a smaller one for her kitten. Then, with a few tweaks of the equation—carrying the three, substituting a variable, and changing the whole thing completely—he developed the Generalized Binomial Theorem.

  GIN-GIN, CONQUEROR OF THE SEATTLE SCRATCHING POST

  It was the year 2000 and Seattle residents were in a bit of a funk. Grunge music was dead, the whole world was co-opting the hometown coffee brew, and the dot-com good times were almost at an end. Cats in the Northwest knew they needed an awesome achievement to make everybody forget their troubles, if only momentarily. After a quick brainstorming session, they decided that the sight of a Washingtonian feline reaching the giant scratching post at the top of the Seattle Space Needle would be just the thing to turn the city’s spirits around. The Space Needle stood tall over the Emerald City, beckoning intrepid climbers to scale its heights, but what cat would answer the call?

  Gin-Gin, a Burmese living in the Seattle suburb of Bothell, decided to take up the challenge. She practiced for months, spending each day climbing pine trees and telephone poles. Many safety-conscious supporters had pushed her to use equipment—harnesses, ropes, a helmet—but she knew that the achievement would be hollow if it wasn’t a free climb.

  In the early-morning hours of October 4, she set out to begin her glorious ascent, but before reaching the first base camp, destiny tested Gin-Gin’s mettle. As she clung to the eighth rivet, a group of patchouli-scented teens formed a hacky-sack circle below and started kicking. Gin-Gin was pelted several times by the rainbow-colored footbag, but finally climbed above the barrage and left the floppy-haired twerps behind. The morning ascent went well, as the weather was cooperative, and Gin-Gin was able to stop at 230 feet to rest and lick out some of the ground turkey bits she had packed in her paws.

  At the 450-foot mark, unfortunately, things took a turn toward the dramatic. In planning her climb, Gin-Gin had failed to consider the tempting smells emanating from SkyCity, the revolving restaurant that stood between her and the tippy-top, and now she was paying
for that oversight.

  The aroma of the Pacific Northwest’s finest king salmon filled her nostrils, beckoning her to abandon the dream of scratching Seattle’s highest post. Through the observation deck windows sat the beautifully glazed fillets—those pink delicacies calling Gin-Gin away from her glorious quest. Still, she was a fearless, resourceful kitty—imbued from birth with the heart of a trailblazer. Shaking off the scent, Gin-Gin spotted a window-cleaning crew working on the south face of the observation deck. Without making a sound, she snuck up to the suspended window-cleaning platform, swiped a safety carabiner, and clipped it onto her nose.

  The intoxicating fish smell no longer a distraction, Gin-Gin resumed her climb, against all the odds, and headed for the final leg of the ascent. The winds picked up, the air thinned out, but nothing could stop Gin-Gin now. As the Pacific sky began to dim, Gin-Gin reached the top of the Space Needle and, with a chest full of pride, clawed that behemoth scratching spire in a heroic triumph for both the cats and the people of Seattle.

  Catnip

  The chapter you are about to read may be startling, particularly to young kittens, but the truth we are about to reveal emphasizes the danger that this botanical enemy poses to catkind. Its smell is alluring, even sweet, but be forewarned: If you think it won’t lead to sadness and tears, you’re only fooling yourself. This scourge, this catnip, can only lead down a primrose path to destruction, and if you’re not careful, you may be the one lazily rolling down that path.

  Catnip pushers are shrewd. They may be somebody you know. You can be sitting around, minding your own business when they bring a little baggie home from their “connection” at the pet store. They may even grow it themselves in the backyard. Never mind that this leafy menace ruins lives all around the globe. All they know is that it makes cats act “funny.” They don’t care that all it takes is one “hit” and a cat is hooked. No, the pusher just wants to ply you with some “good stuff” for her own twisted amusement.

  Sure, it tastes good when you chew it, and it feels good, too. For a while, anyway. Then you will be seized by the uncontrollable urge to roll, as if in a trance. Before you know it, you’ll be on the floor, rolling in the catnip, getting it caught in your beautiful fur.

  Suddenly, nothing seems to matter. Space and time expand. Paws suddenly become more interesting, and you really notice how furry your fur is. Music you never liked before is now “blowing your mind.” You try to get up and find that it’s more difficult than you remember. You decide it would be better just to stay where you are and roll around on the ground for a while longer.

  Then, it all starts to go bad. The feeling of euphoria gives way to acute paranoia. Everyone is trying to get you, even your favorite toy. Your interest in food and petting wanes. You’ll try to take refuge in your usual hiding places, but find that there is no place to hide from your own mind. After a few hours of thinking the nightmare will never end, it finally fades, and you think you’re back to normal. You promise yourself—never again.

  Then the craving starts. You’ve heard the stories about cats who get hooked, but that’s not you. You just want to try some of that sweet, sweet catnip one more time. You can quit any time you want. But as soon as the pusher shows up and sprinkles more catnip on your scratching post, you lose control. You promise yourself that this will definitely be the last time, that you won’t become “one of those cats.” Days roll by, then weeks. Before you know it, the catnip is all gone, and your person doesn’t seem to understand that she needs to go back to that pet store and buy more. NOW!

  Nothing matters but getting more catnip. It’s all you think about. You crawl around the carpet to see if there’s any that you missed. You dig around in your food dish, searching for any there. You’ll try to sneak out of the house to look for some growing in the backyard. Never mind that there’s a foot of snow on the ground and you aren’t allowed outside. There’s a monkey on your back, and catnip is the only way to make it stop its hideous screeching.

  Before you know it, all your toys will be chewed up beyond recognition because you’re sure there has to be more catnip in them. You try to break into your person’s cupboards to see if she’s holding out on you. Endless days and sleepless nights will be spent dreaming of that next batch. You’re a changed cat, and rue the day you ever tried that horrible catnip.

  We know what you’re thinking. That will never happen to me. But this scenario is based on the true stories of former catnip addicts. They got away from it with their lives. You might not be so lucky. Remember, if someone approaches you with some catnip, just say meow and keep walking. If it’s too late for that, you can quit the horrible habit—but you can’t do it alone. There are plenty of 12-step organizations out there that can help you kick the habit. Just take it one day at a time, and eventually you will be a stronger cat.

  Once you’re clean, forever avoid the lure of the weed with roots in hell. Because the dread catnip may be reaching forth next for your kittens…or yours… or YOURS!

  Organizing an Effective Secret Mission

  If you live in a home with several other feline friends, you have the opportunity to carry out one of the most devious activities in the whole cat universe: executing secret missions. Secret missions can include food-pantry incursions, head-of-household coups, and pest assassinations. Solo kitties can take on any one of these missions by themselves, but cats who work together often achieve more effective, more efficient results. Assigning specific operational roles is important to any secret mission, so decide ahead of time which cat best suits the duties listed below. To help in your planning, let’s examine the dynamics of a common secret mission: getting up on the dinner table to explore and pilfer the contents of shopping bags.

  Mission Accomplished

  The Mastermind: Plotting any kind of operation takes time and attention to detail. The mastermind sets the mission objective and coordinates the efforts of all the other cats to achieve it. This cat is also responsible for assessing whether or not the goal of the mission is worth the risk of being locked in the basement, which it usually is. At the end of the mission, the mastermind will be the cat purring on top of the dinner table and divvying up the treasure inside the shopping bags as she sees fit.

  The Cuddler: This is the cat who can make a human coo with the mere brush of her tail. She knows how to use her adorable peepers, cute little soft paws, and overall irresistible cuddliness to get what she wants. Need to distract your person while the rest of the squad makes off with the cheddar? Then the cuddler is your pussycat. For the dinner table raid, the cuddler should assume a dedicated position firmly in the lap of your person. If there are more than four shopping bags to investigate, the cuddler will have to keep your person occupied with affection for at least a solid hour.

  The Sentinel: This job should be assigned to the cat in your crew who always perches at the top of the bookcase. The sentinel is responsible for staying elevated, maintaining sight lines, and alerting cats in the field to any sign of danger. Make sure your sentinel isn’t the quiet type. If she catches sight of an approaching human—or the mouse that’s been getting into your Meow Mix Seafood Medley—she had better be able to caterwaul like a banshee. In addition, the sentinel must have preternatural vision. Being able to see a baseball on a lawn three miles away in the pitch black of night is the minimum requirement for all cats, so the sentinel should be able to see at least double that distance. If you plan to attack the dinner table while the humans are out, station your sentinel at the highest window in the house, or perhaps even on the roof.

  The Weapons Expert: With spikes for teeth and knives for claws, the weapons expert is the cat best equipped to do the dirty work. Of course, this sly kitty is responsible for slicing open even the supposedly impenetrable food pouches, but she can also help out if you need to cut communication hard lines or disable motion sensors. When making your foray into dinner table territory, the weapons expert should assist the mastermind by shredding the shopping bags open for faster pl
undering.

  The Bag-Cat: The bag-cat is the muscle who isn’t afraid of a little heavy lifting. Often tipping the scales at around fourteen pounds, bag-cats aren’t the most inconspicuous felines, but they make up in strength what they lack in stealth. If your operation involves dragging away a bulk-sized tube of Jimmy Dean sausage or knocking over a big clay flowerpot that blocks a favorite view, you’ll need one of these bruisers. Any leftovers on the table should be pushed over the side by the mastermind, at which point the bag-cat transports the morsels to an undisclosed rendezvous point for safe consumption.

  The Whisker Specialist: Your whisker specialist is responsible for GPS analysis and mapping the route of the mission. Using her finely tuned facial hairs, she evaluates spatial proportions and determines whether it is safe to infiltrate a vase, squeeze through a crack under a door, or scale a chimney. Her whiskers can also pick up on changes in wind patterns caused by the layout of objects in a room, making her essential to navigating around potentially unstable climbing structures.

  The Electronics Whiz: Any successful dinner table mission needs a crack electronics whiz. The whiz in your group is the one who spends her days batting computer screens or click-clacking all over keyboards. These tech goddesses keep their methods to themselves, but we’re pretty sure that spending all of their time in front of the computer allows them to do things like hack into FDA servers to order a recall of nasty food brands. Chances are that during the dinner table mission, the electronics whiz won’t move from your person’s laptop. Don’t disturb her. She’s doing her thing, whatever it is.