How smart is YOUR cat?

Any cat lover will tell you that their cat is the most unique, the smartest, and the hardest in the world to fill in the blanks. I, of course, am no different.

I read something once, and for the life of me, not only can’t I remember where I read it, but all the details, that the intelligence of cats is just below that of chimpanzees. As a result of my lack of memory (maybe I should ask my cat Rusty), therefore I cannot verify if this is true or not. If any reader can verify this, all cat lovers everywhere will adore and honor you as royalty, and will bow and bite your feet as you pass by in fervent adoration, well maybe not quite, but your opinion. will be appreciated. . If this is true, then it explains a lot when it comes to the intelligence I observe on a daily basis in my cat Rusty.

An example of this is Rusty’s ability to stick to schedules, remember them, and have the persistence of an executive assistant to ensure that I fulfill my assigned duties. Let me explain more.

About six months ago, for some unknown reason, Rusty developed a food allergy to the dry foods that he had always eaten. Even my vet had no other explanation than “cats can suddenly become allergic to their food” imagine. For most of his life, Rusty had eaten at will, going back and forth to his always-full plate of food. When he started vomiting all over the place, like Linda Blair in “The Exorcist,” I knew I needed to call the vet right away.

To make a longer story shorter, through a lot of trial and error I had to find a replacement and it came down to the fact that the chicken seemed to be the culprit. Try to find a dry cat food product that does not contain chicken. I first tried sticking to dry foods when heading to my local PetSmart store to avoid the cheap stuff at the grocery store. A later royal ransom and a few returns brought no relief from both expensive custom dry foods and custom canned foods.

The final solution, again imagine, was the Purina Friskies Mixed Pâté Variety Pack, without the turkey that was included, which also made Rusty blow, from Costco! What does all this have to do with the intelligence of the cats you ask at this stage? Patience: I am setting the stage to highlight the complex events that took place to show brilliance.

Rusty was suddenly no longer a free choice eater, instead he was depending on me to maintain a feeding schedule so his 15 pound orange brindle body would work and he wasn’t about to let me forget it.

Rusty has always been a great eater. So again, through a bit of trial and error, I found that to maintain his needs I had to give him half a can of food three times a day; morning, noon and night – wow, like our human cats! Now some may call it instinct (not me) or whatever, but no matter what’s 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 demanding food in outrage NOW at being cruelly forced to wait a whole night without food (his words, not mine). During the day, while working in my home office, Rusty naps in my daughter’s room on his comfortable desk chair. If I miss lunch by myself, Rusty knows it, he checks his schedule and noisily walks into my office, sits next to my chair and stretches his legs fully until he touches my cheek with his paw, he reminds me that even if I want to die starving. because I have to work and he doesn’t, His Majesty MUST still be fed on time.

Now, as most good humans do to their master, I usually get up right away and feed the king. Sometimes, though, I refuse because I just can’t get away from a project. After more hints from Rusty and a clear verbal warning that he’s deformed because I don’t jump to my feet, he’ll be out of the room. Of course, this is usually only done after I yell at him to shut up and tell him that he can’t see I’m busy and then throw a piece of paper at him. If I get up within a “reasonable” time to feed him, he is always sitting near the kitchen waiting impatiently for me. If I DO NOT get up and go out to the kitchen, he will continue to periodically come in, throwing all precautions to the wind, to remind me that I am here to serve. This ritual is rinsed off and repeated at dinner time.

Now no one can tell me that this is not the height of intelligence. Rusty knows his schedule and runs it, whether I know it or not. I’ve certainly observed humans who don’t think that far and I’m sure you have too. To help support my unscientific theory, if you have similar stories to tell, please comment on this article.