Our Pavlov’s Dogs And Recalcitrant Cats

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I have singlehandedly created a pair of Pavlov’s dogs. Instead of a metronome, Mollie the Maltese and the Great Gatsby come scurrying to be at my side whenever they hear the scraping of the breakfast nook chair. It means I am about to sit down to eat.

Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, 1849-1936, was a Russian physiologist who discovered dogs have an unconditioned response, meaning it’s involuntary, to salivate when they smell or see food. He then further conditioned the dogs to begin salivating when his metronome started marking time, because they received food afterward. This meant a conditioned stimulus, the metronome, created a conditioned response, the dog salivating.

I have not looked, nor do I intend to, into these pups’ mouths to see if they are salivating. I know by their scurried response to the sound of the chair scraping against the ceramic tile that they are. Gatsby is almost always lying under the sunroom couch, his safe spot. Mollie could be anywhere in the house. Both are quickly at my feet when that chair scrapes because they both know food is involved. My food, to be specific. I am a soft touch and will share pooch-appropriate pieces with the little guys — scraps of the spinach tortilla wrap at lunch, a bite of turkey sausage at breakfast.

I know some folks frown upon feeding dogs at the table. These two are very polite beggars. Gatsby, a cavapoo rescue dog well on his way to becoming a legit therapy dog, might nuzzle my bare leg with his cold nose. Mollie sits politely staring upward at me. That 10-pound dog with a 100-pound bark spends much of her waking life staring upward since she is so short. Most everything happens far above her. Neither pup whines, barks or displays unacceptable behavior while waiting for a table scrap.

Some days I am eating food not suitable for dogs, such as a leftover spicy enchilada. That is when I pull out the bag of small dog treats, set them next to my plate and give each of them a treat every few minutes. When mealtime is over, and the chair is pushed back to the table, Gatsby heads back to his favorite spot under the couch, while Mollie heads to my Beautiful Mystery Companion’s study to sit on the back of the ancient, upholstered chair and take a nap.

It is definitely a dog’s life here at Three Geese Farm. It is also a cat’s life, although both Tater — weighing in at 17 pounds, and Olive, less than half his size at 7 pounds — did not appreciate recent routine trips to the veterinarian. Tater is normally chill and willingly went into the cat crate for the trip to town. Once in the vet’s office, he refused to come out of the crate. The vet tech had to take the roof off the crate. When the veterinarian arrived and attempted to examine both ends of Tater, he turned into a snarling, swatting, scratching hellcat. It took two techs to hold him down for his shots. When they were done, he eagerly went back in the crate, ready to escape these folks trying to poke him.

Olive, on her annual trip the following week, fought mightily going into the crate. It took my BMC considerable effort to get her inside. Olive behaved nicely while getting her shots, but then resisted going back inside the crate. Once safely inside our house, she shot out of the crate and hid for a while before deciding it was safe to take up her favorite post, also in my BMC’s study. It took a while, but she appears to have forgiven my BMC for putting her in the crate.

Owning critters is an expensive avocation, with vaccines for two cats and Mollie the Maltese (Gatsby is not yet due) costing more than four C-notes. Still, the critters are far more entertaining than watching television, and they provide great joy in our lives. It is a small price to pay, in our view. I am just glad the cats, barring any misfortune, will not have to be forced into a crate for another year.

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