Does Your Cat Sploot?

Let me start over: do you have a cat or two, and if so, is it painfully hot where you live right now? Hot as in you're dreaming of winter? If it is, chances are you've seen your cat doing this, like the one in the photo, which is not my cat by the way, sticking its back legs out, and its front legs forward. Maybe this is the first time you've heard this term: splooting. It's a real word. I'm not kidding. It means lying in a spread-legged, prone posture. Typically, it pertains to four-legged mammals such as dogs and squirrels when they want to relax or cool down in the heat. Both of my cats do it, and my dog does it on the wood and tile floors. And yes, I've seen the squirrels do it in the backyard. I'm guessing that the position maximizes their bodies against the coolest parts of the floors.


One of my cats will wait on the kitchen floor until he sees me washing dishes and the second I turn on the faucet he will jump up on the counter and stick his paw under that faucet and start scooping that water toward his face to cool himself down. Granted my sink water doesn't get terribly hot, nevertheless I worry about him burning his paw or face with that hot water. But you know what? That smart feline doesn't seem to care. He's oblivious, really. I swear, he has more gray cells than most cats.



His name is Willie, and he is remarkably clever. Our second cat is pure black; we named him Simcha, for joyful. He was found on the town's streets and was given to us at eight weeks old. We decided that was the end of his days of homelessness, though Simcha had different ideas. When Willie joined our household two years later and made it clear he was an indoor/outdoor kind of guy, we cut a deal with him that if he would keep the property clear of rodents, he could come and go as he pleased.


Well, Simcha decided that if Willie got to come and go, then there was no reason why he couldn't exercise the same privilege. And every time the back porch door was slightly cracked open, Simcha would attempt to dash out like a flash of lightning. We could almost hear that black cat laughing at us, that he sure fooled us; that he finally managed to sneak out that door before we caught him. No matter how many times Simcha thought he got past us, he didn't get four feet down the steps before Willie appeared out of nowhere, and I mean literally out of nowhere. Willie could have been on the roof, in a tree, a neighbor's yard, or down the block, and he would appear like an apparition, instantly landing right smack on top of Simcha, his mouth holding Simcha around the back of his neck just like a mother cat does with her young. Now mind you, I'm talking about two fully grown male cats here. Simcha is about 10 or 11 pounds, and Willie is around 16-18 pounds. These are no kittens. Indoors, they play like they are, but outside, it's different rules.



I suppose that Willie understands that it's dangerous outdoors (there are venomous snakes and possums and mean blue jays in our neighborhood). And while Willie knows how to escape the predators, somehow he must know that Simcha doesn't, and even though he's younger than Simcha, he has taken on the responsibility of being his caretaker. I don't know how animals figure out that hierarchy, but clearly in Willie and Simcha case they have. Willie has also figured out that our Schnorkie dog who is half mini-schnauzer and half yorkshire terrier isn't the brightest crayon in the box. He's as sweet as sweet can be, but smart? Not so much. When we found the shed skin of a five-foot rat snake outside our gardening shed and our dog went to investigate, Willie batted our dog and chased him off. The snake was long gone, but no matter. Willie knew that something threatening had been there, something that could harm the dog, and batted him away until he got my attention; when I saw the snake skin from a distance, I quickly rushed the dog into the house. A few minutes later, Willie sauntered inside himself.



I don't know how such a smart cat adopted us, but I sure am glad he decided to pick us for his family. He could have picked anyone on our street. I guess he figured we needed him. He was sure right about that.





Till Next Time,


Jeffree Wyn