There is a scene in the 1988 movie Scrooged where Robert Mitchum's character, a media boss, informs Bill Murray that a new study has revealed that cats and dogs might represent the next wave of devoted television viewers, and suggests that "we occasionally throw in a little pet appeal...what about a cop that dangles string? That's his gimmick." It all sounds ridiculous as hell, but barely more than a decade later, Whiskas cat food gave us a stirring glimpse into Mitchum's bold vision of what a TV broadcast specifically designed with pet appeal in mind might actually look like, with what was heavily touted as "The First Ever Commercial For Cats". First airing on ITV on 27th January 2019, the 40-second ad was specifically designed to get your cat's eyes glued to the screen and maybe even swiping an eager paw at the vast array of curiosities bombarded at them - fluffy birds on strings, laser pointers, things darting in and out from mouse-holes...basically, every wonderful item that traditionally causes cats to lose their marbles. This is a first for our Horrifying Advertising Animals retrospective - an ad in which the animals in question are never actually seen, merely heard. Rather, this ambitious ad attempts to put you in the perspective of the cat, so that you too can experience the wonder and insanity of a world full of enticing dangling things and scuttering prey, amid which only the cold, wet embrace of a pouch of Whiskas Singles brings any kind of momentary clarity.
The ad in question was created by Ketchum Life, who carefully researched the kinds of sounds and images that cats were liable to respond to and incorporated as many as possible into forty seconds. According to this Campaign article, it was also preceded by an extensive publicity campaign, with many news outlets running reports on the supposedly ground-breaking ad, and some lucky reports being sent exclusive cat bowls bearing the inscription, "The Most Exciting Night Of Your Nine Lives." As I recall, this ad actually had two parts - typically, it was shown toward the end of the ad break, and was preceded by a shorter spot earlier in the same break advising that the much-publicised ad was coming up, so you should ensure that your cat was watching (that part, I think, involved a shot of a cat leaping up onto a settee and basking in the warm glow of the chattering cyclops).
First things first, did it actually work the intended magic on its ostensible target audience? From personal experience, I can say yes - our cat Cleo did look at the screen while this ad was on, and she kept her eyes fixed for the full duration. In my opinion she looked more confused than she did curious. According to this contemporary BBC article, however, most cats remained their typically cool selves when presented with the ad - at most they had the same reaction as Cleo, and would give the screen their attention, however fleeting, but it seems that only a minority of cats were enticed to get up and start attacking the items onscreen. But then the whole "first ever commercial for cats" angle was never anything more than a novelty designed to generate discussion among pet owners and to bring the brand to the forefront of their attentions. Back in 1999, I remember feeling slightly bemused at the specific portion of the ad in which purring noises are played to a close-up shot of a pouch of Whiskas singles being ripped open. It seemed laughable in how on the nose it was. Surely, Whiskas didn't suppose that they could brainwash their alleged four-legged audience into associating pleasure with their specific brand? How is a cat expected to make such a connection? But then, as the BBC article wryly observes, "Getting your moggy to respond to the new ad may be one thing - getting it to do the shopping may be more difficult." We all know that cats were never really the intended audience for this ad, but rather cat people. It incorporates more pet appeal than Mitchum in Scrooged, in his naive innocence, could ever have dreamed of, but its primary purpose was always to endear the brand to the hearts of human viewers, who were probably just as likely to be amused by their cat's non-reaction as any genuine display of enthusiasm, and that purring sound attached to the image of an opening pouch was a message aimed squarely at them.
Editor Stefano Hatfield is quoted in the aforementioned Campaign article as deeming the ad to be "nice" but "nothing special, really", and was surprised that media outlets gave it as much oxygen as they did. Personally, though, I always found this ad to be borderline epic in terms of how discombobulating it was, which in part has to do with my own raw experience of it. I missed the initial media blitz back in January 1999, and during my first encounter with this ad was fortuitous enough to have tuned in about a fourth of the way in, meaning that I missed that vital, context-giving title card. As such, words cannot do justice to just how baffling an experience it was. Try to imagine being bombarded with this cacophony of squeaks, squawks and meows, and with this succession of randomness darting across the screen, and not having a clue what it was in aid of. When I saw the Whiskas pouches, I twigged that this likely had something to do with the mindset of a cat, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Whiskas had gone down such a confusingly artistic route. To watch this ad is indeed to experience the bizarre sensation of being spoken to in an alien language targeted at something distinctively non-human, but the punchline is such a blatant and discernible one - that is, the sound of purring next to that close-up shot of the Whiskas brand name - as to make it plain that this whole "for cats" angle was nothing more than an elaborate set-up all along. The gag lies chiefly in the illusion that we've been watching a commercial "for cats", conveyed in a secret cat code, which climaxes in a winking reminder that, actually, this ad is speaking in precisely our own tongue. If it happens to entertain our cats on the side, then that is a delightful bonus.
Perhaps the most unnerving thing about this ad is that, for as strange and alien as it might seem, it's a a striking reminder that what Whiskas were alleging to be doing to our feline friends in this novelty spot is exactly what advertisers are doing to us every ten minutes, or less. In the end, all any ad break really amounts to is a confounding succession of string being dangled above our heads, in the hopes that we'll look and might even be riveted enough to raise a paw.
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