How Smart is Your Cat?

Any cat lover will tell you that their cat is the most unique, the smartest, toughest fill-in-the-blank cat in the world. I, of course, am no different.

I read something once, and for the life of me not only can I not remember where I read it, but all the details, that the intelligence of cats ranks just below that of chimpanzees. As a result of my lapse of memory (maybe I should ask my cat Rusty) I therefore cannot verify if this is true or not. If any readers can verify this you will  be adored and honored as royalty by all cat lovers everywhere and they will bow down and toss cat nip at your feet as you pass by in fervent adoration -- well maybe not quite that but your input will be appreciated.  If this is true then it explains a lot when it comes to the intelligence I observe daily in my cat Rusty.

A case in point is Rusty's ability to keep schedules, remind me of them and have the persistence of an Executive Assistant in making sure I carry out my appointed duties. Let me explain further.

About six months ago for some unknown reason, Rusty developed a food allergy to the dried food he had always eaten. Even my vet had no explanation other than "cats can just suddenly become allergic to their food" -- go figure. For most of his life Rusty had eaten on a free-choice basis coming and going to his always full bowl of food at will. When he began vomiting all over the place like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" I knew a vet call was immediately in order.

To make a longer story shorter, through much trial and error I had to find a replacement and it boiled down to the fact chicken seemed to be the culprit. Try finding a dried cat food product that does not contain some chicken in it. I first tried sticking to dried food heading to my local PetSmart store to avoid the cheap stuff at the grocery outlet. A kings ransom later and a few returns yielded no relief both from expensive custom dried food nor custom canned food.

The bottom line solution -- again go figure -- was Purina Friskies mixed pate' variety pack, sans the turkey that was included which made Rusty blow also, from Costco! What does this all have to do with the intelligence of cats you ask at this stage? Patience -- I am setting the stage to highlight the complex occurrences that took place to showcase brilliance!

Rusty was relatively suddenly no longer a free-choice eater but instead -- gasp -- dependent on me to maintain a feeding schedule for his 15 pound orange tabby body to function and he was not about to let me forget it.

Rusty has always been a big eater. So again through a little trial and error I worked out that in order to maintain his needs I had to give him a half a can of food three times a day; morning, noon and night -- wow just like our cats humans! Now some may call it instinct (I don't) or whatever, but no matter what is going on Rusty knows when he wants to eat.

Breakfast is easy because I feed Rusty as soon as I get up to silence his loud mouth indignantly demanding food NOW for being cruelly forced to wait through an entire night without nourishment (his words, not mine). During the day while I am working in my home office Rusty naps away in my daughter's room on her cushy desk chair. If I miss lunch for myself Rusty knows it, checks his schedule book and loudly comes into my office, sits by my chair and stretching his legs fully out until he touches my cheek with his paw, reminds me that even if I want to starve myself because I have to work and he does not, his majesty still MUST be fed on time.

Now like most good humans do for to their master I usually immediately get up and feed the king. Sometimes, however, I refuse because I just cannot tear myself away from a project. After more prodding from Rusty and clear verbal notice he is bent out of shape because I am not jumping to my feet, he will leave the room. Of course this is usually only done after I yell at him to be quiet and tell him can't he see I'm busy then flap a paper at him! If I get up within a "reasonable" amount of time to feed him he is always sitting near the kitchen impatiently waiting for me. If I DON'T get up and go out to the kitchen he will continue to periodically come back in, throwing all caution to the wind, to remind me I am here to serve. This ritual is rinsed and repeated at dinner time.

Now no one can tell me this is not the height of intelligence. Rusty knows his schedule and executes it whether I do or not. I have certainly observed humans who are not this far thinking and I am sure you have too. To help support my unscientific theory if you have similar stories to tell please comment to this article.