Posted on June 29, 2003 in Cats Fact-Dropping
Boadicea did something that recalled an article to me that I wrote a year ago for Ganesha’s Lexicon, a short-lived blog on words that I used to keep. Virginia licked and rubbed herself against my bare big toe. Fiona did the same. As she stepped away, Bowie waddled up, took several quick sucks of air, and smacked her lips.
Last year’s article explains what she was doing:
If you have cats you have probably seen them walking up to something, parting their lips, and take a few deep sips of air. Your cat has a rudimentary nose of sorts on the roof of her mouth that biologists call the vomeronasal or Jacobson’s organ, a relic of reptilian days that your pet uses to sense who has been around and has left their calling card. It looks like a pair of grooves, connected to the nasal cavity. Cats spend a lot of time rubbing their chins against things: a set of sebaceous glands here leaves a scent that we humans cannot (thankfully) smell well (if at all). The odor is particular to each cat. When a cat strokes you with her chin, she is sending a message to all the other cats around that she owns you. You are her territory.
Horses, cattle and sheep also use the vomeronasal organ. Biologists call the sampling of scent through this organ the Flehmen. When you see your cat walking around like a gourmet sampling the treats at a wine and cheese party, you can rest assured that the cat is using this hybrid sense of taste and smell to see who has been around and, perhaps, what kind of mood they were in when they came by.
There can’t be more than four square inches of skin on my toe. Almost sounds like Fortinbras fighting for less than an acre of land.