The only helpful suggestion I can think of is... not to have ever use a super-spritzer (if that is a water-dousing device) on him. And it's sort of after-the-fact. I've never done with mine, any of my animals. Cats really hate water. By using it, he has equated water with you. Which is a bad thing.
Here, if an animal is acting up... h/she is put outside. There is enough room and covered spots that this is not abuse. Maybe a little cruel, I'm thinking here of frozen weather & orphans, but isn't that what punishment is all about?
The other small animal device is a rolled up bit of newspaper... which neither cat nor dog likes. It can be used for whacking, but is mostly an instrument of NOISE!!!!! Just picking it up and whacking my hand or whatever lightly would be enough to make Penny quit sucking on the rug fringe. She is lying down and has her nose on it right now!
The other advantage of the newspaper is that it is nearly always around. That's my suggestion. Take about 2-4 sheets of the NYT & re-fold & roll into a half-page length. You can, if you are scientific, wrap a rubberband around one end. For another scary noise, you can snap the rubber band.
Since I think animals can understand a lot, I' be talking to Mikey about this {as I made it} and also how much you love him, but he cannot bite. etc.
I'd swing a few practice whacks into my hand. Anytime he does something bad, other than biting and deep back-leg scratching, swing that paper and make a lot of noise.
Hide the super-soaker. Let him see that you are putting it away.
Next time he bites, whack him bodily with the paper, making the most noise possible and put him in the smallest room you can that is handy for you. The bath? Don't let him out for a while... 1 hour is enough. You could leave water dripping to keep him occupied.
What does he do to keep from being bored? You could give him a small mouse in a cage for Christmas. Not so nice for the mouse, but the cat would be vastly entertained.
When does he attack you? Is he hunting, or is it in response to something? Cats are very high strung, and some get overstimulated and irritated by petting -- and the response can be typically feline: teeth and claws.
I was helping my daughter feed the neighbors cat (she was afraid of it) and the damn thing came after me, teeth bared, going to sink them into my thigh (apparently it thought I was trying to steal its food). A swift kick in the chops solved that problem.
Cat suddenly gained a new amount of respect for me, giving me wide berth whenever we crossed paths outside, and a few knowing "meows".
Piffka, All that you suggested I have tried. From talking to newspapers to locking him in the bathroom. Nothing works.
Patiodog, Mikey attacks me when I'm sitting at the computer, watching tv, reading, walking by, asleep, working, on the telephone, in the bathroom. In short, he attacks me when I am not paying total and complete attention to him. When else? If I commit the unpardonable sin of letting my arm hang over the side of the couch. When I'm petting him.
He is not going to stop biting. It is a defensive mechanism he developed from kittenhood. He suffers from neurodermatosis. It hurts him to be touched. It's much better now, and I can pet him around his head and neck. But the biting is how he defended against pain, and biting is how he communicated. I'm resigned to a nip hear and there. I get pissed off when I detect some real malice.
My original question was what do others do when they're pissed at their pets. I wondered if I'm the only one nutty enough to stop speaking to my pet when I'm angry. I guess I am.
Nah - I do it too - drives 'em NUTS!!!!!
Malice? Ya know, Roberta, there is a world full of cats out there and many of them deserve a good home.
I don't especially like to put it quite that way, but it's the truth. Loyalty and affection can't be a one way street forever.
Feline Q and A: Frequently Answered Questions
Smell on Shoes Stimulates Attack
Q: I went running yesterday on an open trail, and when I came home our female cat was very interested in the smell of my shoes, but after sniffing them, she turned and violently attacked our other cat for no reason. We tried separating them for awhile, but when we put them back together, she attacked him again. Our veterinarian said to wait a day or two and she would get over it. What do you think about this strange reaction?
A: This is a classic example of the phenomenon referred to as "redirected aggression" and is quite common when cats spy a strange cat outside the window. Your female picked up the scent of another animal (cat, dog, or raccoon?) on your shoes, and in her fright and anxiety, attacked the closest thing to her, which happened to be your other cat.
Your vet's advice was on target. I'd keep them separated for a day or so, and try to be as casual as possible in re-introducing them. Just open the door and nonchalantly stroll away. They should be fine.
In the meantime, you might want to thoroughly clean your shoes.
Cat Attack Q&A
OK, Roberta. Clean those shoes!!!
Hehe, I just could not resist. The cat attacks sweaty shoes.
Roger, If my love and affection were strictly one way, I don't think I would have kept Mikey. He can be very loving. I was just discussing the other end of the spectrum. He likes to put his paw in my hand when I'm watching tv. He purrs when I rub his neck. He makes me laugh. He is always very near me--follows me from room to room. He "helps" me with some household chores. And he is not averse to standing on his hind legs and hitting the computer keyboard, when the mood strikes him. I assume that his aversion to being touched has made him insane. But he can be very loving and lovable.
dlowan, It does drive him nuts! Glad I'm not the only one. We have passed the contrite stage, and Mikey is forgiven. He is now on his best behavior.
Piffka, Mikey loves to sniff shoes. Also, I make a point of petting other animals when the opportunity presents itself. Then I let Mikey sniff my hand. He loves this. It has never provoked an attack.
Hello Roberta,
My Rupert is 12, and he has been a good dog all his life. As a puppy he was an ANGEL. He never made a mistake in the housebreaking department.A bit later in life he ate a bit of the couch's wooden dental molding. I didn't argue with him. I painted the remaining wood with Tabasco. Rupert didn't argue with me. He ate more dental molding WITH Tabasco, and developed a rollicking case of diarreah. Hmmmmmm. Tie decision.
A bit later, Rupert took a big bite out of a lamp cord, and received a fast ride across the room. He never chewed things again, except for demolishing his Kong-an alledged unchewable toy.
Well, I have actually only been mad at this guy ONCE in our life together.We had just moved to a new house. The fence company failed me, and didn't get the fence up when promised. So-the day after moving-exhausted, I had no fenced -in back yard. AND it was pouring!Nocoffee, no nothing, I leash up Rupert and stumble out in the street.And Rupert , a Retreiver, was DELIGHTED!! A Walk! First thing in the morning! And in the pouring rain! Oh , heaven!
I got soaked after about 5 minutes of being hauled about. Rupert -his waterproof coat was soaked through, his down coat was soaked, he was as happy as...a clam. And dashing and exploring new territory, and NOT taking care of business. How furious was I getting?
The hissing started:"Make a doody. Hurry up!"No answer. Rupert is singin', and dancin', in the rain. Here comes a truck. It's going fast, it's riding in the gutter-puddle SPLASSSSSSSSSSH!!!!!!!!!
Rupert is laughing, and singin and dancin in the rain. I am CRAZY with fury. I'm covered with stinking gutter-puddle water. So is Rupert. We both stink.
I cursed like a sailor, hauling my errant Gene Kelly home.No business taken care of. And PLENTY of clean-up to do, along with a housefull of boxes to unpack.
At home ,(carpeted in ballet pink) , we leave splooshing footprints. I get Rupert downstairs in the "family room",with a huge towel, and a hairdryer. Cursing, I begin to dry him. Until I notice that the dryer he gets, the worse he smells. Gutter-water. This dog needs a bath.
An hour and one hair-covered bathroom later, I'm drying Rupert again. The cursing , in a furious growling voice has caused me to be totally hoarse. I'm still furious, my back hurts, my house stinks, my wet clothes stink. Rupert, of course, has realized that...things are not well. He is casually trying to move away, but not actively fighting his bath , or being hair-dried, as he usually does. Still, I'm at the "WHY???WHY???WHY???" stage.HOW could you?? WHY'd ja make me stay out there? WHY didn't you just GO so we could come home??" And, next thing I know, I'm slapping him with the soaking towel."Get away from me! Dry yourself! You're an a$$hole!!" Fury builds on itself. Dirt and backaches help, though.
Poor ol' Rupert slinks away.
All that day I would not speak to him, but for the occasional growly curse.I wouldn't feed him. It kept raining. I would not go out and take him out.I cursed him, I showed my teeth.He stayed in a corner,peering sadly.
Finally, I was describing the morning horror to a friend, on the phone. I happened to look at miserable , abused Rupert. He was crying. Soundlessly. But teary-eyed, nose running, an expression of such misery that I hung up, and went to him. (He closed his eyes when I came near him:>( I kissed him and apologized. Rupert forgave me instantly, and said it was all his fault, and apologised. I hugged and kissed him some more. I put on my slicker and walked him. I fed him, and we kissed some more. My dog.My good, good dog. Because I was having a hard time, I hit him with a wet towel.And cursed him all day.
<schniffle>
So that was my experience with being mad at my pet, and how I behaved when furious.Not very well, I think.And maybe I had to learn a lesson, at Rupert's expense. But I've never been mean to him again, (although Rupert never gives me any reason to.)
But you asked if we ever got angry at our pets, and how we acted when angry, so I felt it necessary to (confess) report in.
Oh Joan
Rupert is so lucky to have you :-D
Joan, I don't know if I'm laughing or crying. Oh, that is so sad and so funny.
Joan, querida, I'm left wondering what to say. Such a heartfelt confession. Such strong feelings. I could see it all taking place in front of my eyes. Joan raging, Rupert romping. Joan storming, Rupert cowering. And then all is forgiven. Rupert is a fine, gentlemanly dog. And you are lucky to have each other.
Thanks, Guys. That was 4 or 5 years ago, but I'm still ashamed of myself, and I think of it every time I dry Rupert.
Oh, well, now I feel bad for just laughing, but, oh, it was soooo funny. Rupert IS lucky to have you and he sounds like a wonderful friend. I'm sure he understood your having a bad day, with the move and all.
My dog was an abandoned stray. He was abandoned in a smaller town--as if THAT'S possible--and I brought him to my place. For the first few weeks he would slip out on the highway stopping traffic. I think he was trying to find his way home. He's old. The guesses range from eight to twelve. Then he just disappeared for about three weeks and when he finally showed back up, I knew he'd given up his search, and I felt his separation pain, and knew he'd decided to trust me in helping him have a new life. He's so tiny, only about 12 inches long, but he feels like--and he IS--the top dog around here. I love to see him prance with his little tail straight up like an alpha when we go hiking. He's been a very good dog. My favorite pet of all time. I guess, he just came with some manners at his age, you know, some wisdom. And not too much youthful curiosity. When the time comes, I'll get another older dog. It's been a real success story for the both of us.
The kindness of animals can only be matched by the kindliness of good caretakers. It's wonderful that your dog finally accepted his fate -- you -- with aplomb. So sad that people abandon animals.
Here's my confession: I once had a pet goose named Duck. (We were looking for an Easter duck, but they were out so we ended up with a goose, and never got over it. We also had a cat named Huck for Huckleberry and a parakeet who stayed in our bedroom with a similarly rhyming motiff.)
Anyway, even though we had six acres for our beloved Duck to play on, he insisted on staying, and pooping, on our tiny 2-foot-wide step that led into the house. We finally decided to turn him loose at the Arboretum in Austin, a very upscale part of town where other geese and water fowl enjoyed themselves.
I carried Duck to the water and unceremoniously dumped him into the man-made little lake, while all the other water fowl sneered at the new comer's rough handling.
We really missed our little Duck and went back to visit him a few days later. We couldn't pick him out from all the other geese. And then this one goose starting screeching across the water, his wings barely touching the surface as he raced toward us, honking all the way. Duck landed in my boyfriend's lap with his long neck wrapped around his--he always did prefer Budd over me--making those loving gutteral sounds he used to make when preening our hair.
We went back a few weeks later with food--our goose was actually larger than the others--and found him surrounded by four female geese. He moved them toward us and kept all the other water fowl away as Budd tossed out the treats.
Our last trip, he was no longer there. I like to think he set up house keeping somewhere. I hear geese mate for life.
