The Feline Geometer
Some notes toward a more advanced understanding of cat math
I thought it was my imagination, but apparently it’s not. Or at least — it’s not just my imagination. Here’s a quote from popular writer Pam Brown:
“Cats can work out mathematically the exact place to sit that will cause the
most inconvenience.”
My own resident feline rarely sits when he can lie down, and when lying down, arranges himself to cover the largest possible portion of a narrow yet well-traveled passage. But if he has to sit up for a while, he’ll figure out how to be in the way.
Can this be by accident? I think not.
The question is — how does he accomplish this? How do cats, generally, manage to be so efficiently inconvenient?
Their secret is applied mathematics.
1. Strategic Thinking (Maps and Naps)
Let’s start with a fundamental axiom: What is perceived as an inconvenience by a human is always an opportunity from the feline perspective.
For example — parking in a place that will make human activity maximally awkward offers several potential sources of pleasure if you are a cat.
- Opportunity 1: If more ankles are forced to pass near your whiskers, there will be more chances to stage a “hiss-and-swipe” should they come just a smidgen too near.
- Opportunity 2: Awkward circumstances increase the possibility that a human will trip. Or drop something. Which means they are likely to hop around or swear, and what’s funnier than that?
- Opportunity 3: There’s at least a fifty-fifty chance that an inconvenienced human will finally give in and physically move you — which means being picked up. And being picked up probably means being petted, because humans can’t help themselves. (Annoyance seems to dissipate whenever they touch fur.)
Another axiom: The cat’s goal is always to maximize its opportunities.
And if that can be done while napping, so much the better. But it often works out that movement is required in order to maximize opportunities. And whether napping, lurking, or prowling — math will be involved.
To make the best use of its operational space (otherwise known as your house or apartment) our cat will need to maintain a mental map of the routes of travel, and the relevant obstacles. Furthermore, he or she will need to update the map frequently, to account for newly added obstacles and hazards.
When using the floor as its field of action, our cat has to calculate the narrowest point in the room that also lies on a path well-traveled by humans. This involves an ancillary operation — counting the number of humans who pass a certain spot within a given length of time (or in the case of one human, the number of times they pass).
If there are two ways in/out of a room — one wide and one narrow — it’s no good taking up the narrow passage if no one goes that way. On the other hand, occupying the wide passage will yield less in the way of opportunity. So this calculation involves an array of factors, and there are several steps required to identify the optimal choice
My feline has (from his point of view) a delightfully complicated residential landscape, filled with squeaky-narrow walkways and sharp turns. But I’ve heard there are places where people live in spacious, uncluttered rooms — and I assume cats have a plan for dealing with that challenge. My guess would be that they focus more on ankle-weaving and — of course — apparating.
2: Advanced Skills (Apparating and Leaping)
Command of the horizontal field (aka floorplan) enables a cat to get ahead of a moving human on barely a moment’s notice, and stop directly in its path. Seeming to appear out of nowhere.
The results are almost always hilarious, though to varying degrees. A full faceplant is the most desirable outcome, of course, but dropping or spilling, cursing, and spontaneous contortions are all quite funny in their own way.
It’s also possible that the human will accidentally step on your tail or otherwise provide you with an opportunity to feign pain or panic. These encounters almost never cause real harm, but they frequently result in being picked up and petted (see above, fur), and/or treated to special food.
The “sudden appearance” feat clearly requires, on the cat’s part, an ability to calculate (a) the point in time when a human will reach the most promising point in space, (b) the best place to lurk in the meantime, and (c)the amount of time it will take to get from point (b) to point (a).
How many humans could do that in their heads, several times a day, with precision? I ask you.
Obviously, it’s easier to manage all those factors on the horizontal plane than on the vertical. For one thing, there are fewer available places to lurk once you head up the Y-axis. And it will be necessary to add an angle to your calculations, since point (b) will now be at both a horizontal and vertical distance from point (a).
To clarify: Let’s say our cat is on the mantel, or the back of a sofa. These locations are offset from the paths humans have to travel on, because humans are typically limited to using the floor. So our cat will need to employ one of those formulas you dimly remember from geometry class.
And the timing will be more complicated, since it will be necessary to bunch up and launch before the vertical trajectory even begins. So there’s a lot to consider for our feline mathematicians!
They seem undaunted by these challenges, however, day after day producing consistent, seemingly effortless results. For proof — who among us has not stumbled over a newly apparated cat?
Obviously . . .
Humans have much to learn about applied math from watching their cats. But of course, getting you to watch them is just another way cats increase the odds you’ll pick them up. Or better still, stop what you’re doing and play.
Or best of all — get out the camera and boost their Instagram following.