My Cat Is Smarter Than

It's sort of like the bumper stickers that you see on cars and vans during your commute:  "My child is an honor student at fill-in-the-blank" and "My golden retriever is smarter than your honor student."  Well, my cat is scary smart.  Sometimes.  Sometimes a little too smart for me and apparently starved for attention.  For example, typical cat owner behavior:  hide around a corner and make a scratching sound.  We hope that this will prove interesting for the cat who will then amuse us by pouncing.  Recently, when I am out of sight of the cat, he will start scratching the wall or a corner until I come looking.  Usually when I discover him he's sitting looking at me with that look on his face.  You know:  butter wouldn't melt on my tongue.  (Uh huh.)

At first I didn't realize what he was doing.  That was, until I saw him do it, when he thought I wasn't looking.

Um, that's not mine?
  -- Puss In Boots (voice of Antonio Banderas) in "Shrek 2" (2004).

 Reaching up into corners, he would lightly scratch the wall with his claws and then wait for a reaction.  When we would look,

What in the world can that be?
  -- Vizzini (Wallace Shawn) in "The Princess Bride" (1987).

 He would either do the nonchalant thing or pounce.  Ok, that's clever, he's mimicking our behavior.  Ha, ha.  Uh, that's not all.  Oh?  He has this toy.  It's a rather ugly looking fabric gnome attached to a plastic stick by a string.   The not-too-difficult-for-a-human-to-do is that we hold one end and dangle it in front of the feline in question.  I'll be the first to admit that he does like playing with it.  He will perform for us, all sorts of fantastic gymnastics, while attempting to possess the toy.

Some time ago, we discovered that the toy would appear in some of his favorite places.  The cat seemed to feel that the toy sometimes needed to eat (we'd find it in his bowl) or have a scratch on his scratching post.   If we humans forgot to bring the toy up to our bedroom at night the cat, with a big sigh, would head back downstairs and bring it up.  "Tink, tink, tink," was the sound the toy would make as the gnome's head hit each stair on its way up.  The cat would issue a muffled meow to scolding us for forgetting.  When he reached his objective (assuming that the toy didn't get stuck on the way) he would use his paw to remove it from his mouth.  (Blecch.)  (My spell checker tells me that 'Blecch' is not a word.  Mad magazine would beg to differ.)

The situation would be reversed in the morning.  The morning could not properly begin until the toy was present with a majority of humans.  If I do say so, I found that behavior very cute, but a little confusing.  Is the toy a surrogate friend or was he telling us:  "get me a friend?"  Ah, humans, so very slow.

Sometimes on the way to bed, I would carry the toy up the stairs for him.  (Nice of me.)  Since it was nice to know where the cat was (sitting on the kitchen counter) or to make sure that he wasn't locked in a closet or room, I would call to him.  He doesn't listen to me, unless he wants to.  So, to achieve my nefarious ends, I would drag the toy's stick across the vertical supports of the handrail.  Apparently this sound is nearly irresistible and would summon the cat upstairs.

We've been doing this for some time, but lately there has been an interesting development.  Early one morning a few days ago, I awoke after hearing a repeating thunking noises with an occasional "tink."   I hoped it was the cat and his toy.  This sound continued until I heard the toy hit the floor downstairs.  Having satisfied myself that it was the cat, I think I dozed off.  I slowly woke again when I heard the toy returning up the stairs, "tink, tink, tink."  When he reached the hallway, the cat managed to rub the stick against the railing, "thunk, thunk, thunk."  In my sleepy haze I realized that the cat was attempting to get us to wake up and come down stairs and play.  Even at that hour, I think I found it rather amusing.