cat behavior – Pain In The Bud

Amazing Cats: Pallas Cats Are The Grumpy Little Hobbits Of The Feline World

The Gremlin-like felids have some unusual habits compared to other cats in addition to the trademark scowls that distinguish them from other feline species.

The fact that they live in burrows and crevices is the first indication that Pallas cats are the weirdos of the feline family.

The small, bushy little creatures greet the day by poking their heads out of their burrows just enough to see what’s going on. Thanks to the low profile of their ears, which stick out almost horizontally, only their eyes and tufts of frosty-looking fur are visible in those first moments.

When they’re satisfied nothing’s going to vex them further than their usual, seemingly perpetually-annoyed default, they fully emerge from their dens, and that’s when their true form becomes apparent.

Behold grumpiness incarnate:

“These kittens today, they want everything now. No patience and not a lick of common sense between ’em. Hey! Get off my lawn, you little cretins…” Credit: Wikimedia Commons

“Would it kill these dogs to clean up after themselves? Sheesh! You don’t see me defecating all over everything. When nature calls, I do what civilized cats do, find a private spot and bury my business. Hey! Hey! Don’t you dare move that rock!”

These little guys look like they start every day off getting rained on while birds with impeccable aim empty their bowls on their heads. Then they file out, each one grumbling, and engage in their species’ favorite pastime — complaining about everything, like a perpetual Airing of Grievances on Festivus or a communal bitching session about joint pain at the local senior center.

“Oh, my back! For crying out loud! They couldn’t have dug this tunnel at a more forgiving angle? Aww crap, look at the weather! Hunting in this is gonna suck. Lenny, is there any more of the rabbit from last night? No? Of course not. And we’re out of coffee again! I don’t know why I even roll out of the burrow. This place is a dump!”

First observed and written about — in the western world, at least — by Peter Simon Pallas in 1776, Pallas cats are about the same size as our domestic feline buddies, but they look stockier thanks to their heavy coats. Pallas, a Prussian explorer and naturalist, was presumably going about his day when he heard a group of these malcontents complaining from a mile or two away.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Jokes aside, Pallas cats only look angry to us because we anthropomorphize them. Difficult as it is to believe with their convincing scowls, there’s no evidence to suggest they’re actually grumpy.

The fact that they sometimes co-occupy burrows means they have a cooperative and social component to their behavior that many cat species lack. You won’t find tigers cooperatively hunting, napping in communal burrows or padding out together to greet the crepuscular morning, but that’s what Pallas cats do. That’s a pretty good indication of a sunnier disposition than their trademark scowls indicate.

Here’s a remarkably clear and close video showing a Pallas cat mom poking her head out from a burrow and making sure the coast is clear before emerging with her four cubs close behind her:

Spread throughout mainland Asia, and concentrated most heavily in Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, Bhutan and parts of China, individual Pallas cats move between different burrows and crevices depending on the need for cover and the season. They’re found on the vast plains of Mongolia, as well as in mountains like the Himalayas and the Altai range.

They usually top out at about 10 pounds and primarily hunt rodents, pikas, shrews and other small, ground- and underground-dwelling prey, but like most cats they’re adept ambush hunters and take opportunities where they find them.

Happily, and owing partly to their remote habitats, Pallas cats are one of the few wild species that are not listed as threatened or endangered on the IUCN Red List.

Header image credit: Wikimedia Commons

Proof they don’t scowl in *every* photo. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Previously:

Amazing Cats: The Mysterious Marbled Cat
Amazing Cats: The Rusty-Spotted Cat
Amazing Cats: ‘He Who Kills With One Bound’
Amazing Cats: The Puma

Amazing Cats: The Sunda Clouded Leopard

Amazing Cats: The Adorable Colocolo, Feline of the Pampas

Amazing Cats: The ‘Fire Tiger’ Is The Stuff Of Legend

Amazing Cats: Ocelots Love Trees, Water And Calvin Klein’s Obsession For Men

What’s Your Cat’s Petting Limit?

A netizen’s cat tolerated an astonishing 176 pets from his human!

An Instagrammer decided to test the limits of his feline overlords’ tolerance for pets, and it was instructional.

Porky, who looks like he’s a British shorthair, lasted 107 repetitions of his human’s hand rubbing his head before he’d had enough. His brother, Jim, lasted 176 repetitions!

Both are extraordinarily polite. Porky just got up and left when his human kept going despite clear signs that he was at his limit, like a swishing tail and shifting positions. Jim was still enjoying having his head stroked after the 100 pets mark.

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I could not get away with this. Not even close.

First, Bud doesn’t like that kind of palm-open head petting. I’ve gotta be gentle and very precise, being careful not to touch his ears, which clearly annoys him. The limit is maybe…four? Five?

He likes it when I rub his cheek glands, under his chin, and around his jowls. I know enough to stop and let him give me a signal if he wants more.

He’ll move if he’s had enough, but if I’m not paying attention and I persist, he’s got no qualms about smacking me or biting down on my hand. He’s learned that warning bites should be gentle, but after a clear warning, all bets are off.

I was awarded with ELEVEN scratches on my left arm last week, although that was a case of misdirected aggression, not an overstimulation outburst. I should have seen it coming, since I know the signs indicating he’s frustrated about something and needs to release energy.

Yes, my cat is a jerk. Yes, I still love him. In fact, I’m glad he’s my Buddy and he didn’t end up with people who think cats do things out of spite, or would physically punish him for acting like a cat. A jerk of a cat, but a cat all the same.

He’s taught me to pay very close attention to body language, ears, whiskers, tail swishing, and all the other ways cats signal to us aside from verbalizing their feelings.

How do your feline masters respond to petting, and what are their limits?

What’s With The Stories Claiming Men Don’t Bond With Or Listen To Their Feline Buddies?

There’s a disconnect between the usually careful language of research studies and the exaggerated claims of news articles.

The headlines over the past few weeks have all been variations on the same riff: cats meow more frequently to male caregivers because we don’t know how to bond with the little stinkers, we disregard their feelings, and we ignore their pleas.

Others are more blunt in their assessment, like a story from YourTango that stated women “bond deeply” with cats, whereas we men are merely “manipulated” by them.

“Other studies have found that women are much better at giving their cats more attention, understanding their cats’ emotions, and are more likely to mimic their cats’ vocalization, too,” the YourTango story claims. “Whereas for men, the same cannot be said. Considering they tend to give affection more sparingly than women, it’s no wonder that the dynamic is different.”

Just picture it: women levitating above the rest of us, sharing their amazing Female Affection with the poor, emotionally starved pet felines who belong to men. If we’re trying to get rid of the “crazy cat lady” stereotype and spread the idea that cats are great companions for every kind of person, this probably isn’t helping.

So what’s the source of these claims?

Apparently a study out of Turkey that involved just 31 cats and their humans. All of the human participants were Turkish, and just 13 of them were male. All were recruited online. (And for some parts of the study, like the analysis of greetings by owner gender, only 26 participants were included because the other five did not submit complete data, including the ages of their cats.)

It’s important to make a distinction between what the study’s authors claim and what the media reports, because they’re almost always two different things.

“Science” doesn’t “say” anything. Science is a method for investigating things we don’t understand. It’s not an entity, it has no opinions, and the only clear conclusion from such a small study is that we need more data.

The research team from the University of Ankara counted more meows directed at the 13 male caregivers in their study compared to the 18 female caregivers. In their paper, the team acknowledged their sample size was too small to draw any conclusions, and lacked the demographic diversity to rule out innumerable potential reasons why those 13 cats meowed more frequently than the 18 cats cared for by women.

Even with a more robust sample size including men of different ages, social classes, and nationalities, correlation is not causation, and it may be that the apparent difference in feline vocalizations disappears with a larger study group that more accurately reflects universal demographics.

Indeed, the study’s authors state clearly that feline greeting behavior is “a complex, multidimensional phenomenon that defies straightforward explanation.” (Emphasis ours.)

The conclusion, as always, is that we need more data, which is one reason why studies must be repeatable.

That nuance doesn’t make it into listicles or stories optimized for maximum shareability on Facebook, so instead we get headlines that present studies as the last word instead of the first tentative steps to understanding a phenomenon.

In case it wasn’t obvious, there is no data to support the claim that men “give attention more sparingly” than women, or that women are better at reading feline emotions. We don’t even have baselines or criteria for those claims. How do we objectively measure “better” when it comes to reading cats, especially when every cat and human bonded pair have their own pidgin “language”? What’s the “right” amount of attention?

Buddy the Cat, a gray tabby cat, with a synthwave background. — “Brrrrrrrruuuuppp!”

As the loyal servant of an infamously talkative cat, I’m not sure gender makes any difference. Bud’s vocal tendencies were already present from kittenhood, and I simply nurtured them by engaging in conversations with him, giving him loads of attention and doting on him.

Often our conversations go like this:

Bud: “Mreeeoww! Mow mow! Brrrrrt a bruppph!”

Me: “I know, little dude. You told me, remember?”

Bud: “Brrrrrr! Brrrruppp! Yerp!”

Me: “Yes, but they’ve tried that already. It’s not just about tokamak design, it’s…”

Bud: “Merrrrrp! Mow mow!”

Me: “No, it’s about plasma containment. No containment, no reaction, no energy gain!”

Bud: “Brrrrr! Mrrrowww! Brupbrupbrrrruppp!”

Me: “Yeah, well that’s just, like, your opinion, man.”

I really do talk about science and science fiction with my cat, since he seems to respond to it. Of course it’s gotta be at least partially due to my tone, but strangely if I talk to him about other abstract things, he acts like I’m bothering him with so much human nonsense.

Regardless, Buddy and I object to the claim that a talkative cat is a disengaged or neglected cat. It’s not that he talks a lot, it’s that he never stops!

How Four Wildcats Co-Exist In The Jungles Of Guatemala

Jaguars, pumas, ocelots and margays are able to thrive in the same jungles, a unique arrangement that sheds light on how each species lives.

The jungles of Guatemala are teeming with life.

The guttural calls of howler monkeys haunt the rainforest from above, where scarlet macaws hop branches in flashes of red, yellow and blue.

On the forest floor opossums, peccaries, and oversize rodents called pacas move through dense brush, occasionally picked out by the few shafts of light able to break through the canopy. Ocellated turkeys plumed in iridescent copper and emerald advertise themselves to potential mates with thumping sounds, while spider monkeys perch on the weathered stones of long-forgotten Mayan cities that were swallowed by the jungle centuries ago.

As in most tropics, the apex predators are cats — four different species, to be exact. Jaguars sit at the top, unchallenged. Pumas, close in size if not ferocity, also find sustenance in the rainforest alongside ocelots and margays.

Margays are smaller than house cats and resemble tiny ocelots. They’re outstanding climbers, expert hunters, and spend most of their time in trees. Unlike most cat species, which are crepuscular, margays are nocturnal. Credit: Clement Bardot/Wikimedia Commons

How do four medium carnivorous species exist side by side?

By dividing time, space and items on the menu, according to a new study.

Ocelots are extremely adaptable: they’re excellent climbers and swimmers, and can thrive in various environments. Credit: Victor Landaeta/Pexels

The felids hunt at different levels of the jungle at different times of day, and while there’s overlap between prey, each species has its own distinct diet, according to a research team from Oregon State University. Their paper, Niche partitioning among neotropical felids, was published earlier this month in the Journal of Animal Ecology.

As the big kids on the block, jaguars primarily eat peccaries (pig-like ungulates that weigh up to 88 pounds), armadillos, deer and, sadly, ocelots. Apparently membership in Club Felid does not grant the smaller wildcats a pass. Ocelots top out at about 35 pounds, while the largest jaguars weigh in at about 350 pounds, making the smaller cats easy prey.

Pumas opportunistically prey on peccaries and brocket deer, but the majority of their diet is composed of monkeys, both spider and howler. Ocelots and margays naturally go for smaller prey, sticking mostly to rodents and opossums.

As the largest and most powerful cats in the western hemisphere, jaguars are the apex predators of their environment. Credit: Atlantic Ambience/Pexels

While jaguars hunt on the ground and have a well-documented habit of slipping into the water to prey on caiman and crocodiles, pumas, ocelots and margays take advantage of their climbing abilities and lighter frames to reach arboreal prey. That allows pumas, for example, to snag monkeys and arboreal opossum species from the canopy, so they don’t have to compete with jaguars.

The team verified the “spatial, temporal, and dietary niche partitioning” within the Maya Biosphere Reserve by using ground camera traps, arboreal camera traps and fecal samples, which allowed them to confirm the prey each species has been consuming.

Interestingly, margays are the pickiest — or perhaps most limited — of the bunch, preying on only seven species, while the other three cats regularly hunt between 20 and 27 different kinds of animals.

The information gleaned from the study not only helps researchers understand how these species interact with their environment, but also can help guide conservation decisions to safeguard them against extinction.

Pumas, also known as cougars and mountain lions, are adaptable and elusive. Credit: Catherine Harding Wiltshire/Pexels

https://news.oregonstate.edu/news/vertical-hunting-helps-wild-cats-coexist-guatemala%E2%80%99s-forests-study-finds

Opening Your Heart To A Crazy Cat: The Story Of Kevin

A writer reminds us that feline friendships don’t always come easy, but some of the hardest-won are the most rewarding.

When San Francisco’s KQED, the local public radio affiliate, asked its culture writers to reflect on “one beautiful thing” from 2025, Rae Alexander chose her cat, Kevin.

Kevin is “chaos in cat form,” a feline “sociopath” who doesn’t realize how much damage he does with his claws. The tabby, Alexander writes, is “never not screaming at us for food” and pads around as if he owns the place. (That sounds awfully familiar!)

After bringing Kevin’s heavily pregnant mother in from the cold earlier this year, Alexander adopted Kevin’s mother and his “well-behaved sister,” but was repeatedly rebuffed when she tried to get rid of Kevin himself.

Three potential adopters fell through while Kevin was growing out of his kitten stage, drastically reducing his chances of finding a home.

Then something crazy happened: cat and human came to a mutual understanding and the beginnings of trust led to friendship and love. As with any progress in gaining a cat’s trust, it was not a quick process, but Kevin eventually showed another side — a much softer, appreciative version of himself who enjoys cuddling and expresses love despite his quirks.

“As this fraught year draws to a close, I want Kevin to be a pertinent reminder to us all that the little things bumming us out today might just lead to the things that make us happiest tomorrow,” Alexander wrote. “Start putting all those everyday stresses on the stairs. You never know where that might lead in 2026.”

Read the whole thing here:

https://www.kqed.org/arts/13983150/kevin-favorite-cat-sociopath

We’re back after a brief interruption!

Apologies for going radio silent over the past week. This past Saturday I sat down to write and my computer was dead. As in completely dead — I couldn’t even trick it into loading BIOS or getting a boot screen.

So I said farewell to a machine that had served me well since 2018, that served as my primary platform for writing, producing music and gaming.

Now I’ve got an absolute beast of a machine centered on one of the new Ryzen chipsets, and it takes quite a bit of restraint not to go into nerdy details. I’m still setting things up, especially the music production workflow.

The important thing is, I’m able to properly sit at a desk and write again, and Buddy can properly supervise me from his desktop perch again, so we are now back!