Opinion | Science keeps smearing cats, but it’s barking up the wrong tree

Are most academic researchers dog lovers?

In the last week, studies found dogs know when you are stressed. Dogs make us more sociable. Petting a dog has a therapeutic effect. It won’t be long until new studies find dogs can do your taxes and serve as designated drivers while providing sage job advice on the ride home from the party.

Woof. Woof, woof, woof!

My God, you’re right. It IS time for a career change. Screw this place!

I am not casting canine aspersions today. I want a dog. I’ve wanted one since I was a boy. My daughters want a dog. My wife does not want a dog. And since this house is not a democracy, she has veto power.

After losing our beloved Burmese cats in recent years — rest in peace, Satchel and Corduroy — my wife says we can get two more cats but no dog.

Realistically, I now have a better chance of lobbying for a pet crocodile.

But you know what? My wife should get into academic research because her feline fidelity might finally offset the ongoing smearing of cats. When it comes to hypotheses and experiments, dogs are the Dwayne Johnson of the animal world: they can do no wrong.

Don’t take my word for it. Conduct your own meta-analysis.

According to science, dogs are loyal. Cats are aloof. Dogs are even smarter than we imagine. Cats are, quite possibly, total morons. Dogs love to be loved by all. Cats even hate cat lovers.

A dog is a man’s best friend with sunshiny energy. A cat will grump-snooze the days away, just waiting for you to die. Then it will steal your Visa and go on a feather-stick and scratching-post buying spree.

An actual headline from a few months ago: “Are cats psychopaths? New research says, probably.” Huh? Or how about this one: “What research says about cats: they’re selfish, unfeeling, environmentally harmful creatures.”

This isn’t research — it’s kitty slander!

There was a study last year out of the University of California, Davis, School of Veterinary Medicine. It found, “cats prefer to get free meals rather than work for them.” Yes, so does every human I know.

It seems the cats in this study “would rather eat from a tray of easily available food rather than work out a simple puzzle to get their food.” This behaviour, according to the lead author, contradicts a body of research that shows “most species including birds, rodents, wolves, primates — even giraffes — prefer to work for their food.”

I once saw a giraffe squeegeeing windows for shrub canapés.

It was heartbreaking.

Here’s where I’m confused. What cat wants to do a puzzle? Throw a mouse in there and I’m sure the cat’s hunting instincts will kick in. It will work hard for any food due to the thrill of the kill. But cats don’t want to do puzzles any more than hamsters want to water ski. Once you get past the nomenclature of “contrafreeload,” this experiment actually suggests cats are smart.

Think about it. If I’m hungry and ushered into a control room and get to pick between a plate of filet mignon or the possible reward of curly fries after solving a Sudoku, I’m making a beeline for the steak. And in between chews, I’ll glare with hissing disdain at the nerd in the lab coat silently observing me while jotting down notes on his clipboard: “Subject picked free meal.”

So before I get my new kittens — or a puppy that can pull off a cat disguise — I am calling upon science to take a hard look in that two-way mirror. Yes, dogs are awesome. They are capable of incredible feats. There is a reason airports do not deploy bomb-sniffing iguanas.

But stop turning all this “research” into a cats-versus-dogs horse race.

I don’t need to read a study about how a cat can recognize its name but might wilfully ignore me when I call out. My wife does the same thing. And I’m not interested in research that finds dog owners are generally happier than cat owners. Another headline from last year: “New study finds cats ‘disloyal,’ would gladly befriend your enemies.”

I can only refute this hard science with my soft experience.

For two decades, Satchel and Cordy were the most loving creatures on the planet. Satchel chased laser pointers and was beyond whip-smart. Cordy played fetch and refused to let me walk around without draping his body around my neck and shoulders like a mongoose. I pretty much wrote six years of TV columns for this paper with a cat or two glued to me.

When the girls were learning to walk, Cordy, as sturdy as a dump truck, would let them clutch his back as they stutter-stepped across the living room. He always seemed to be smiling. Near the end of her life, now blind and often incontinent, Satchel never stopped purring like an idling race car as she navigated the only house she had known with steely confidence.

This is what science never gets right. This is what science always gets wrong.

Cats aren’t to be studied with dubious theories and goofy variables.

Cats know exactly what they are: family.

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