Well...maybe.
My evidence regarding this claim is sketchy at best. Plus it's only based on one example, so reliability might be lacking. But still, the hypothesis is compelling and since I base this claim on the life of a cat, I'm thinking this probably adds to my credibility.
A few weeks ago we added another name to our family's dead cat roster. To be clear, we don't acquire cats in order to add them to the list, it just sort of comes with the whole cat ownership thing. Willie was our latest fatality. When we took him in we named him William Alexander Jenkins the Third. I have no idea if there ever was a William Alexander Jenkins the First. Or Second. It just seemed a rather regal name for a cat. But old William had a...behavior quirk...we hadn't encountered in a cat before. In fact, I didn't even know a cat could do that. It sort of took away from the regality if you ask me. As it was, the shortened version of his name was rather apt.
Giving Willie a home wasn't my idea. As all of our cats have been, Willie was a shelter cat in need of a loving place to belong. He was old and sickly and had very little to offer as a pet. Anna had been taken in by his only real selling point; engaging, emerald green eyes set against a deep gray furry backdrop. She claimed he needed a home. I claimed he needed a different home than ours. She felt a deep conviction that we were his only hope. I maintained three cats were plenty. Steve remained quiet on the subject for a while. Eventually, though, Old Softy got involved in the conversation by stating that we already had three cats anyway, what was one more? It was two against one. I lost.
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Several things became apparent as soon as Willie came home with us. One, Willie was old. Two, Willie was sick. Three, Willie only ate human food. Four, Willie hated other cats. Five, Willie had an awkward addiction.
It took a bit for us to catch on to what Willie was doing. Or maybe nobody wanted to admit they thought Willie was doing what it seemed Willie was doing. We'd never had a cat who did this before. At first there were uncomfortable moments when one of us would recognize what was happening and glance around the room to see if anyone else noticed. It was actually a little embarrassing. Eventually, though, we collectively concluded that yes, Willie was doing what we thought Willie was doing. We just had no idea what to do about what Willie was doing.
We tried distracting him mid-socially unacceptable behavior, but this only served to make him agitated and surly. Everyone in the family agreed they could understand Willie's response. But still, letting it just happen seemed weird. We couldn't figure out how to communicate to Willie that he should really only do that in private. Cats aren't the best about following social conventions. This had the potential to make things quite awkward when we had guests.
We discovered a few patterns that helped discourage Willie's activities a little. Nice soft blankets seemed to enhance the experience so we removed comfy throws from public living areas. Reducing Willie's stress seemed to help a bit as well. As for guests, we decided to be open about Willie when company was around, "Oops, Willie forgets his manners, let me just take him into another room." It was unusual to be sure, but what else could we do with our cat's unconventional proclivities?
Over time Willie seemed to moderate his own behavior a little. Either that or he just got too old and sick to do it as often. Either way he cut back to only several times per day. We started noticing a pretty rapid decline in his health in early spring and one day we saw him walk right into a table leg. His failing eyesight had been obvious for some time, but now it seemed Willie couldn't see a thing. He hadn't stopped and sure enough...he'd gone blind.
As time went on Willie lost weight and agility and except for a few sessions of personal satisfaction every day, his quality of life seemed to be slipping away. On Willie's last day we held him, told him we loved him, and then put him on a soft blanket and let him have some time alone. We figured it was the second most compassionate thing we could do that day. It was his obsession up until the very end.
I've never had a cat like Willie before. I'd be okay if I never do again. We gave him a good and loving home and more than once we looked away and just pretended not to notice. If Cat Heaven is the compassionate and understanding place I think it is William Alexander Jenkins the Third is there now with a nice soft blanket, a room of his own, and emerald green eyes that will never again fail.
