Kort Explores conundrums of the human condition

(Glitch was a stray who moved in with me in 1999. He died in July 2007. I wrote the following during the time he lived with me.)

I appear to have encountered yet another turning point as an unsuspecting participant in an on-going experiment in applied cat psychology.

I'm a bit concerned that Glitch has taken to cheating in his own games when I play with him. Where once he'd chase a foam ball into the next room, batting it around to keep it ricocheting off the walls and furniture for an extended time, he now considers it sufficient to merely tap it with a paw as he goes by. Sometimes he doesn't even bother to tap the ball - just makes a superficial feint like he could have touched it if he really wanted to. Of course he still thinks I should throw balls for him to chase even if he no longer feels the need to actually catch them - just run in their general direction. Then he wonders why he doesn't doesn't get as much fun and satisfaction out of his games as he used to...

Last night, after returning from the bimonthly NW Oregon/SW Washington gathering, Glitch greeted me at the door wanting to smell my hands to see what interesting odors I'd brought home for him to sample. He seems to think that the only valid reason for me to leave home is to collect interesting smells for him to enjoy on my return. Alas, I hadn't encountered any dogs or cats to pet at the party, but I had "handled" some chicken wings, dips, cookies, chocolate, etc., and he seemed to accept these smells as a barely adequate substitute.

After an intensive petting session (required to catch up on the petting I'd fallen behind on during my absence), Glitch decided he wanted to play chase the string.

(Background digression: for those obsessed with technical details, Glitch has two alternative "play strings" - cords with a knot followed by several inches of frayed fibers at the "cat" end. One is composed of sheathed parachute suspension line with an FAA tensile strength rating of 550 lbs. The other is composed of braided parachute suspension line with an FAA tensile strength rating of 750 lbs. In spite of age, wear, UV exposure, and other factors, exceeding the remaining tensile strength of the play strings wasn't a factor in the outcome of the referenced chain of events...)

After running through several variations of catch the string (chase the dangling string, ambush the string from hiding, snag the string in midair...), Glitch at first appeared to initiate his traditional "end game" procedure.

Glitch normally signals the end of "chase the string" by getting a good hold on the end of the string, and dragging it resolutely into the kitchen, where he deposits the vanquished victim in his food dish. I'm expected to provide token resistance, continuing to struggle - shaking the string, pulling just enough but not too much - at least until I've been dragged to the threshold of the kitchen doorway, after which I can let go of my end of the play string. If I let go of the string too soon, Glitch drops his end as well, and after disappointed looks, expects me to try again to get it right.

According to some experts, as a 200+ lbs human, I could in theory exert a resistant force to the string in excess to the maximum tractive force that a 14+ lbs cat could physically generate. However, factoring in the complex motivational factors I'm not convinced. As far as Glitch is concerned, the game only ends when he has dragged me to the kitchen doorway. Sometimes the inconvenient rules of physics have to yield to higher priorities.

So, to return to the subject event, I'd fulfilled my role as play string operator, and Glitch had initiated his traditional "end game" sequence, when suddenly he arbitrarily deviated from the established pattern. Instead of proceeding to drag the resisting string into the kitchen, he paused several inches short of the threshold.

To clarify, Glitch has at times reconsidered his end game sequence, and released the "struggling" play string short of the target. In these cases, he obviously decided that he wasn't finished playing after all, and intended to "release" the string for a couple more rounds. However, in these situations, Glitch's decision process was generally quick enough to preclude his human play string operator becoming confused as to the intentions of the cat at the other end of the string.

Last night was different...

Glitch's decision making process may appear arbitrary and/or capricious, but being indecisive has not been one of his hallmark characteristics. I would be the last one to suggest that the outcomes of his decision making are significantly different than the fur-covered insanity of cats in general. My point is that he has never exhibited a pattern of requiring extended amounts of processing time in deciding what expression of feline logic he would express next. Last night he appeared to pause for several long minutes, stuck between whether he wanted to finish the game or play another round. Of course, during all of this time I was obliged to continue shaking and tugging on the string in continued pseudo resistance.

Since he shows no other signs of increasing indecisiveness, it seems reasonable to assume that Glitch's lengthly delay was an intentional act. The disturbing possibility is that Glitch's game playing is further degenerating away from the basic concept of *him* running around and expending his instinctual drives through redirected activities. Has his corner cutting and minimizing his role in our game playing achieved the ultimate simplistic minimalism - for me to vainly perform all kinds of gyrations at my end of the string trying to encourage him to do something - anything - at his end of the string?

Something tells me Glitch's concept of why I play with him has become seriously flawed. I'm not yet willing to accept role reversal that playing with him is entirely for my benefit, an activity in which he has become the magnanimous if a tad reluctant participant.

At the moment, the play strings lie in a neglected jumble on the floor, waiting to see who will be the first to pick one up and initiate the game. What was once a simple mutually enjoyable activity has become a high stakes war of wits...