However, as in the case of our child artist/vandal, that “no” is simply a half measure. If you don’t present that child an easel, he or she will just pick another surface to “paint,” whether it’s the front door or the dining room table. That drive to create art is irrepressible and will only transfer from one place to another.
In our kitchen counter–surfing example, our clear challenge is not finding the “No!” but determining where the “Yes!” lives—we have to find out what motivates your cat to go to that spot to begin with.
The first obvious motivation is to get to “that place”—the vertical world. Even if your cat is not a Tree Dweller in the traditional sense, he clearly finds mojo off the floor. So let’s start by making verticality a part of our “Yes!” recipe.
The second part of the recipe is resources: what lives up on that counter that makes it so desirable? Well, it’s the kitchen counter, which probably means food. Our “no” means keeping food put away so it’s not a consistent temptation, and we aren’t setting our cats up for failure. For our “yes,” read on. . . .
That’s the third part of the recipe—us. When our body clocks are in sync, the human and cat energy spikes are happening at the same time. Whether morning or evening, you can bank on the fact that when our family’s energy is spiking, we are probably doing something in the kitchen. Getting up on the counter gives the cat front row access to that something.
Clearly, all “yes” signs point to giving your cat a place to go that is near enough to the action and the resources, just not on the counters themselves. My go-to solution is a cat tree that is near enough to accommodate these desires and far enough away that the cat doesn’t use that tree as an off-ramp of the Cat Superhighway toward the counter. When introducing that piece of furniture, encourage him to go there during human energy-spike times. Use the “Jackpot! Effect” to your advantage, too, breaking out your cat’s favorite treats only when introducing the new tree.
Now we have incorporated a “yes” that will greatly diminish the sting of the “no.” This makes No/Yes a powerful win/win.
Extinction Burst
You have vowed to stop responding to your cat’s pillow trotting, which has become a nightly ritual. It’s been a rough few nights so far, but you’ve resolved not to cave in and pay attention to her. So you settle down into bed, and at 4:00 a.m., your cat begins her usual meowing. You grit your teeth and lie there, waiting for the meowing to stop. But it doesn’t. Instead, it seems worse than usual. And then your cat walks across your head and starts knocking things off your dresser. Now it’s 5:00 a.m., and you’re freaking out, thinking “I can’t take this. I’ll get up and feed her so I can get back to sleep.” You’re ready to cave.
Wait! When you stop rewarding a behavior that you have previously paid attention to, your cat will initially escalate her attempts to get you to respond. This is called an extinction burst, a temporary increase in behavior when reinforcement is removed. In order to be successful at “extinguishing” annoying behaviors, you must make sure that meowing in the middle of the night serves no function for your cat, and is not in any way rewarded. And that means suffering through the extinction burst. Then, believe it or not, the peace and quiet of a solid night’s sleep without pillow trotting will be all yours. (For more on Pillow Trotting, see chapter 16.)
Let’s continue with one of the most foundational tools for effective “parenting.”
The Challenge Line
My work with cats began at the shelter that, for many years, I called home. I learned everything in that building, under the emotional and physical stresses that are unique to shelters. Most of my work back then was with cats who had completely shut down—Wallflowers to the highest degree. These were cats who already may have been Wallflowers in their previous homes, or, in many cases, cats who hadn’t even been in a home in years. And worse yet, some of these cats were absolutely scarred, either physically or emotionally. Even if I could get these cats emotionally fit enough to qualify them for the adoption area, the next hurdle presented itself: how to make these guys feel vital, present themselves in their best light, and not go “kennel crazy” while they waited, sometimes for months on end, to find their forever home—all from the confines of a two-by-three-foot stainless steel cage.
Ironically, it was during this time working with cats inside a pressure cooker that I realized the job would never get done—and the cats would never find their Mojo—without crossing what came to be known as their Challenge Line.
Having faced way too many roadblocks with far too many cats, I began to dissect my process with them. I realized that I had a hard time asking cats to confront their Challenge Line, the precursor to transformation. The Challenge Line may as well have been called the Comfort Line because it represents the border of the individual’s comfort zone. It’s where one paw forward equals challenge, and one paw backward equals comfort. Comfort, however, is a misleading term. In the case of my shelter cats (as has been the case with tens of thousands I’ve met since that time), what passed for comfort was invisibility. They pressed themselves to the back of their cages and turned their heads from the door. We all know what it feels like to stay in a place of smallness because, well, it’s just easier. Easy, as we know in our own personal journey, tends to keep us from moving forward.
Realizing I needed to challenge these cats was insanely challenging to me. I mean, after all they had been through, how could I?
But if I didn’t, they would most likely never make it out of my shelter. And even if they did make it out, their uber-Wallflowerness would keep them from thriving in their new homes, almost guaranteeing that they would wind up being “cavers”—that is, under-the-bed or closet cats (or worse yet, get returned to the shelter). Helping them change became my motivation.
My goal for each one of these animals was to gauge where that very specific line was for them. And then I wanted to know how much I could acclimate them to that line and encourage them, one paw at a time, to cross it without feeling like a child jumping into the deep end of the swimming pool for the first time.
A child can be coaxed into the pool with their parents’ assurance that they won’t drown. These animals have no such assurance, but rather, a history in which the opposite was true: when they took chances, became “visible,” and stepped out into the light, bad things would happen. So I started to increase their area of comfort, while decreasing their area of challenge.
By pushing the line, I define the line. And yes—sometimes the Challenge Line is a physical line that we can mark with tape on the floor. Here’s a typical example of how the Challenge Line works.
CROSSING THE LINE
Recently I found myself working with a cat (we will call her Daisy) who was always shy around humans and other animals. The exception was her best cat friend Dexter. He was her older mentor who, since they first met, had been her “social bridge,” the cat she could follow, and who would demonstrate Mojo that she could, to a degree, emulate.
When Dexter died, Daisy, like an emotional rubber band, snapped back into the life of a caver. Her guardians assumed that if they brought in some cat friends for Daisy, she would regain whatever sense of Mojo she had when Dexter was alive.
That didn’t work. At. All.
The guardians adopted a bonded pair of boys, Alex and Possum, who promptly took over the territory and terrorized Daisy at every turn, chasing her back into her cave whenever she dared step out. Her guardians felt horrible—and their pity, sympathy, and guilt rolled together to create an anti-Mojo monster. They began to feed her in her “safe place,” putting a litterbox under the bed as well. She literally had no reason to move into the light of day, and even when the boys left her alone, she remained where she was.
My challenge was to bring her back out. And once she un-caved, then the challenge was to get her to leave her safe room and come into the shared living space. And then go to the middle of th
e room, rather than hug the walls, army-crawling and making herself a target. A lot of challenges for me, but a lot of Challenge Lines for Daisy.
With Jackpot! treats, blocking off the Unders, and gradually moving her litterbox, sometimes inches a day, (and also working with her tormentors and their issue simultaneously), each line was crossed. Every step was calculated not to be easy. Proving to herself that she could be scared a little but still succeed was Mojo building and ultimately provided Daisy the wherewithal to not only take the middle of that living room, but eventually to give Alex just one slap upside his head while holding her ground. It was that Mojo-move that permanently changed the relationship dynamic and provided Daisy with a bigger place in the world.
Blocking off the Unders: The Reprise
As mentioned in chapter 8, the “Unders” are those hard-to-reach areas of the home where a scared cat might seek refuge—for example, under the bed, sofa, tables, chairs, etc. Blocking off the Unders is all about restricting your cat’s access to these areas.
The “blocking off the Unders” tool is unique in that it integrates aspects of both the Challenge Line and the No/Yes Technique. By removing your Wallflower’s option of always being able to hide somewhere, she is “forced” to confront her fears and engage her various Challenge Lines. At the same time, by saying “no” to “caving” (essentially hiding underneath furniture), we are saying “yes” to “cocooning,” which will still provide her the cover she desires, but in a location that we control. In both cases, we are encouraging her not to feel invisible or insignificant and, instead, leading her toward more emotional and territorial freedom.
One caveat: going for broke in one fell swoop—i.e., removing every single hiding spot in one day—will almost assuredly backfire, resulting in not only a shy cat but one who is now completely panicked. Make the process of blocking off the Unders a gradual one so your cat can adjust to her new “Unders-less” environment.
The idea of pushing one’s Challenge Line is a combination of desensitization and exposure therapy, which is to say that we are not just pushing a fearful child into the deep end of the pool. I’m not trying to forcibly numb cats to reality. Even saying I’m “pushing” their Challenge Line is a little misleading. I’m not pushing them over the line, but encouraging them over and expanding their safety bubble. With animals who have experienced trauma over and over again, this safety bubble is so close to them that it’s almost a second skin. This process gives them the Mojo that comes from these small triumphs and proof that, over and over again, the results will always be positive.
You may cringe at the thought of the Challenge Line, but perhaps this is one of those moments when you may want to change your perspective to that of a parent. As a parent, you wouldn’t avoid challenging your human children. On the first day of school, you have to be the bad guy and put your child on the school bus. Yes, there comes that difficult point when your kid is looking at you through the bus window, crying, and basically saying, “Why would you do this to me? I thought you loved me!” Yowch. And yet, you know that children have to go to school, because if they don’t, the rest of their social existence, their intellectual development, and their ability to face challenges will be completely compromised.
But then what happens? They get to school, make friends, learn, and thrive. You have set them up to be the best version of themselves. And that’s all we’re doing when we push the Challenge Line with cats. Since we can’t do talk therapy with them, we have to show them, over and over again, how it feels to cross a line that scared them five minutes ago. That’s how they become card-carrying Mojito Cats.
THIS LINE IS YOUR LINE—ALSO
Our cat’s Challenge Line is just as much our Challenge Line. Pushing those you love into a place where they’re not comfortable, with the promise of a better life on the other side of that line, is a difficult proposition. And I urge every guardian to embrace it, because in all my experience with thousands of animals, I’ve never had a negative outcome.
When putting this Challenge Line philosophy into practice, it’s absolutely crucial to act as if it is truly no big deal. In my experience, you will increase your cat’s anxiety tenfold if you exude worry. Remember, cats are energetic sponges—and if you are projecting the knowledge of impending danger and an expectation of failure, they will absolutely absorb that energy, and they will respond accordingly.
If you want them to mirror confident behavior, then you have to present that confident behavior for them to mirror. Remember: it’s a Challenge Line that we set up for them, with the knowledge that it’s not a cliff, and we’re not throwing them over that cliff and into an ice bath. We are asking for one paw—just one paw—over the line and offering abundant praise and reward with every step.
Within a certain amount of time, you’re going to see a change in your cat. Tentative will give way to trust, and it usually happens in a flash. It could take a month for the line to move a few inches—like that “tick, tick, tick” of going up the first hill of a roller coaster—and then, suddenly, whoosh, they are just moving with the momentum of the ride. That’s the payoff of your patience and your confident parental leadership, and your cat’s accumulated experience of crossing the line with positive results (and more Mojo) moment after moment and day after day.
CHALLENGE IS DEFINITELY a continuing frontier in everyone’s life, whether you have four legs or two. But one of the biggest challenges when it comes to your day-to-day home life is forging new relationships. For humans, it could involve adjusting to new roommates (and we’ve all had our nightmare experiences with that one), or taking a romantic relationship to the next level and going through the inevitable “period of adjustment.” With cats, it’s even harder; because they are so dependent on territorial ownership for their Mojo, learning to share territory can be daunting for cat and guardian alike. As we will find out in the next chapter, when it comes to the “Brady Bunching” Challenge Line, slow and steady wins the race—or, at least keeps that race from becoming a demolition derby.
10
Cat/Animal Relationship Mojo
Introductions, Additions, and Ongoing Negotiations
AS THE RAW Cat integrates into our households, he will invariably find himself in a simmering stew of mixed company and varied relationships. Cat to cat; cat to dog; cat to kids—our modern human/animal families are often a colorful and diverse intermingling of personalities, and we guardians find ourselves traffic copping the wide-ranging and unpredictable dynamics of territorial change. Will these relationships be compatible or combustible? As with integrating human families, the key is respecting the individuals—their likes and dislikes, their habits and personalities. Hopefully you know my M.O. by now—cookie-cutter solutions don’t work when navigating unique and challenging waters.
CAT-TO-CAT RELATIONSHIPS: COMPLICATED AFFAIRS
In section 4, we will address a number of common challenges (and opportunities) that can arise in cat-to-cat relations, once they are living together in a family unit. For now, let’s start from the ground up, and examine the complexities of adding another cat, or more, to the present mix.
SHOULD I EVEN GET ANOTHER CAT?
When it comes to one-cat homes, the question I’m always asked is this: “I’ve got an only cat, I work twelve hours a day, and I know he’s bored. I feel so guilty. . . . Does he need a friend?”
There are several components to that statement that we have to look at. I fully believe that cats should live with other cats. Unfortunately, what you see many times on my show are worst-case scenarios of cats who would definitely rather not. But in general, cats are communal animals who have been victimized by the stereotype of being asocial, aloof loners. The Raw Cat lives in colonies, as we’ve seen with feral cats. They problem solve as members of a whole community. The only thing they do solo is hunt. That being said, there are some cats who really don’t mind being alone; it’s about individuals.
In res
ponse to the question, you’re right in one respect—a cat alone twelve hours a day needs more stimulation. But in order to find out if your cat is bored, you first need to do your boredom due diligence. Give your cat the proper enrichment so he won’t be bored. Set up the home environment for exploration. Make sure there’s always some form of Cat TV turned on for him.
Then comes time to put on the cat detective hat and take inventory when you get home: Is there destruction? Things used as toys that shouldn’t be? Objects that have been ingested? Then yes, my friend, you have a bored cat.
And then there’s your guilt, and a few really important points about it. First, regardless of the environmental solutions I detailed, none of them replace quality time with you. Making the space for just a little play in the morning before you leave and some cuddle time at night makes a big difference in a cat’s day and goes a long way toward heading guilt off at the pass. The second point is that your guilt is the absolute worst reason to add a new family member. Break it down: Would you love to add another cat to your home? And, apart from your guilt, do you think it would be beneficial to your cat? If the answer is yes, then let’s go, intrepid adopter, and find the right match!
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