Note to self: Put down the chair and whip

Once a long time ago Karla and I took Hilary to a show involving a lion tamer at some animal amusement park whose name I forget. Hilary was just a little kid at the time. After the show, we approached the man and asked questions. One of them was “Is it possible to train a house cat to do anything?” He assured us that all cats are very intelligent, even little ones. I said that every time I approach the cat with whip in hand and a wooden chair with the legs aimed at it, he runs away. He got the joke.

It was time to train the cat to do something new. Today I moved the cat’s dish from its usual place near the fireplace on the lower floor of the house. There will be three dogs joining us in a few days, and I wanted to at least slightly dog-proof the cat food bowl, so I put it up on the landing of the stairs to the loft. I made sure I had the cat’s attention and held the bowl prominently out in front of me as I slowly ascended the steps, then placed the bowl noisily on the landing. I then filled the little scoop used for dry food and made a very prominent obvious move up the steps and clattered the bowl loudly as I poured the food in. The cat stared.

Coming down the stairs, the cat still watched me. I went back to my chair and sat down. The cat approached, meowing for his dinner. Once again I ascended the steps, picked up the bowl, shook it to make the food rustle, a familiar sound. The cat stared.

Again I left the room. The cat followed, begging to be fed. So I went up to the bowl, picked it up, descended, put the bowl on the ground floor and as the cat approached, drooling, I again slowly, obviously, took the bowl upstairs to the landing, and very dramatically placed it on the landing. The cat stared.

About to quit and throw the bowl at the cat, I remembered the lion tamer incident all those years ago. Aha! I went back up to the bowl, lifted it and put it down. Then I put down the chair and whip. The cat dashed up to the bowl and dove in.