I don’t get it. My dog Riley comes when I call, he does tricks
on command, and basically lives to please me. He’s a good boy! My cat Olive pretty much ignores me … unless
I’m spooning tuna into her bowl or she decides it’s time for me to pet her. (Is that the right spot, your highness?) Basically, I’m here for her. I love her, but I’m not in control. So, I was surprised to learn that not only
did we domesticate cats over 10,000 years ago—we did it twice! I can’t even get my cat to do something
once! How did we convince these finicky felines
to move in? We didn’t. It was probably their idea. Even though cats are domesticated animals—coming
from the Latin word “Dom” for home and meaning that the animal began living with,
and then became dependent on, us— it’s more accurate to say that cats domesticated
themselves. And, sorry cat-lovers, but cats weren’t
the first animals to do so. That honor goes to the dogs. Dogs—or their wolfy ancestors—fell in
love with us the moment we started the whole hunting and cooking over fire thing. They scavenged. They ate our garbage and begged for our scraps. (Mine still does! OK, Riley, here you go.) Dogs let us train them to help us with things
like hunting, and even managing herds of other domesticated animals, like sheep. Cats, of all kinds, were lurking around those
same camp fires, but they had no interest in helping us hunt or herd, and—if we tried—our
attempts to train them failed. Although larger cats shared our taste for
things like rabbits, we didn’t need an animal whose main skill is stretching in the sun
and lounging around the cave in really cool shapes… until the revolution! I’m not talking about French Cake or Tea
Parties, I mean the Agricultural revolution. We started planting edible food, like grain. And when we got good enough leave something
over after harvest, we started storing it. At which point, you could say, we domesticated
rats and mice. No one does say that, though, because, although
mice did move in with us—and did become dependent on us—we couldn’t stand them! It’s not that they weren’t cute, but they
were really bad roommates. They ate all our grain, left a mess, and brought
disease. (Plus, those bald tails freaked our ancestors
out.) What to do? Chasing mice is futile and they’re really
hard to catch. That’s when history’s very first crazy
Uncle Alex started trying to build a better mousetrap… And that’s when cats found their niche in
the human world. Cats love mice! They can’t get enough of them! Which explains a lot about our relationship
with cats. We might not agree on everything—like if
the cat needs to go out—then in—then out—but—then in—we get along. Because no Uncle Alex can build a better mousetrap
than a cat. Wherever people stored grain, rats and mice
moved in, and then cats showed up to catch them. It wasn’t long before people started encouraging
the kitties to stay. Maybe not offering them the best spot in front
of the fire, but…. letting them take it. (Ever try to argue with a cat?) And maybe even building them a temple or two. If you still have doubts over who’s serving
whom, consider this: the Egyptians worshipped a cat deity, Bastet. So, you tell me who has the power on the cat/human
continuum. And while the Romans didn’t bow before kitties,
they did use cats as a symbol of liberty. In other words, you may be your dog’s master,
but your cat is a freelancer. That’s not the only difference. Dogs—like pugs, dachshunds or poodles—have
morphed so far away from their wolfy ancestors; it can be hard to believe they’re related. But compare a tabby cat, or Felis Catus, to
her ancestor, Felis Sylvestris, also called the African Wild Cat or “Middle Eastern
Wildcat.” OK, people who study these things will tell
you that today’s housecats look really different from Felis Sylvestris, but I disagree. Yes, they are a little smaller and a lot friendlier. But the supposedly big difference that gets
cat-scientists all excited is in the stripes—which to me look remarkably… the same. OK, I’ll admit it. I mix up my plaids and mismatch my argyle
socks, and I’m no scientist, but to me, the most striking thing about tabby cats and
their ancestors is how much they look alike! In fact, this “alikeness” accounts for
why we know so little about the early interactions of cats and people. Today’s housecats share an almost identical
genetic make-up with their wild ancestor—and one of the few ways to tell them apart is
by the markings on their coats, which generally don’t last long enough to be dug up in an
archeological site. Today’s cats come in different colors, like
orange and black and white, some even have patches. But one type of marking you won’t see in
your house cat—except two occasions I’ll tell you about later—is leopard spots. And the variations we do have didn’t come
about until breeders began intentionally developing them in the 1800’s. Before that, they pretty much left cats alone. Dogs were already long differentiated into
recognizable breeds, because over the years, we bred them to do specific jobs: fighting
bulldogs, herding shepherds, and sledding huskies. (Get off that sled, Huskie, I meant sled-pulling,
not sled riding.) But cats were already Purr-fect at their one
and only chosen profession, catching mice! Except, maybe, to get polka dots! Every house cat today is a Felis Catus and
Felis Catus is not related to any leopard. So, dot hungry breeders have crossed Felis
Catus with other species to get spotted offspring… with varying degrees of success. The Savannah Ocicat and Bengal are two examples. There’s debate over whether these make good
pets. They’re not legal everywhere. And… they might not be happy in your home. I recommend sticking with Felis Catus, available
wherever you see the “free kittens” sign. Or like Olive did, show up at your house unannounced
and refuse to leave, which is how she adopted me. But there was a time when dotted kitties chose
to live with us. Remember, cats self-domesticated. So, it makes sense that wherever we grew grain
and got mice, we’d get lucky: kitties would move in. Until recently, scientists believed that those
kitties were always Felis Catus. But — Recent excavations in the early farming village
Quanhucun, in central China, show that 5,000 years ago, Chinese farmers enjoyed the company
of Quanhucun cats. Unlike Felis Catus, these guys were descended
from “Leopard Cats” (like the genetically engineered Bengals.) So they had spots! Cool! Now, while the Chinese didn’t go as far
as worshiping any Cat deities, evidence dug up on the site shows that they cared for these
dotted felines. While the cats clearly ate grain-feeding rodents,
the farmers fed them as well. Archeologists even found one Quanhucun Cat
so carefully buried that its skeleton remained intact for thousands of years, proving that
someone thought it was pretty special. So, what happened to the Quanhucun cats? No one really knows. (Cats have always been mysterious.) Some people think that when those farmers
started trading, they learned about Felis Catus and kicked out the Quanhucun kitties
in favor of today’s tabby. Maybe stripes were in style. But, if you’ve ever heard the century old
folk song, “The Cat Came Back” you know that getting rid of a cat isn’t that easy. However, sometimes a cat will decide for herself
to trade a roof for the open sky. That’s called going “feral,” and you
can find feral cats living outdoors in many human communities. I’m inclined to agree with the scientists
who think that, for reasons of their own, Quanhucun cats de-domesticated themselves. Which just means they went feral and then… Took it a step further all the way to “wild.” Today, cats are the most popular pets in the
world. People in the U.S. alone love nearly 75 million
of them! And these pet-able pest-controllers think
we’re the cat’s meow— they choose to be with us: Well, I am so flattered! Hey, if you learned something new today, then
give the video a like and share it with a friend! And here are some other cool videos I think
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