Until we got this cutie-pie last fall, I'd only had cats. I knew cats pretty well -- as well as anyone can know them, anyway. I believed the party line about cats -- that they are aloof, haughty, proud, mysterious, and single-minded.
Now I've had a chance to observe the dog and the cats, together and separately, and I'm beginning to suspect that the party line is not entirely accurate. That is, I think that, perhaps, the cats are simply not all that bright. And that their PR people concocted the "aloof, haughty, proud" image as a cover for their general, you know, dim-wittedness.
See, the dog is capable of learning. She understands a dozen commands and obeys them, mostly. She knows her name. She can do tricks. She can hear people in the neighborhood slamming car doors and reacts appropriately, in her mind, by barking ferociously to protect her home. When she does wrong, she knows it, and she grovels before us with low, humble ears and beseeching eyes.
The cats, not so much. They recognize and respond to the sounds of a can-opener and bag of kibble. That's about it. Our little boy cat, in particular, is a stereotypical dumb blonde. He's the Owen Wilson of the animal world. A loverboy, and very cute, but not so quick on the uptake. (He'd be our Butterscotch Stallion except that he's more of a Butterscotch Gelding.)
He sleeps on the printer because it's warm, and then he is completely taken by surprise when his bed rumbles and spits out pieces of paper. He hangs his head over the side to look for the creature that must be inside the printer, and jumps when he gets poked in the nose by a sheet of paper. Every morning and every evening, when I'm brushing my teeth and dealing with my contact lenses, he jumps up on the bathroom counter. Every time, I put him down and say, "Down!" And every time, he jumps back up again. We do this approximately 3,650 times a year. And still there is no glimmer of recognition in his eyes.
I don't think it's a matter of disobedience. A dog listens to your instructions and smiles and nods and thinks to herself, "Sure, boss, I get it. I'll just wait until you're not watching." You can practically see the gears turning. I just don't think the cats get it. What we interpret as an aloof gaze is probably more of a blank stare.
It's not a value judgment. I'm not saying dogs are better than cats. I'm just saying dogs are, generally, smarter. We've been giving cats' walnut-sized brains a little more credit than they deserve. Let's be realistic. They're not haughty, they're just waiting for the elevator to get all the way to the top floor. It's a long wait. We need to be patient with them.
While I was thinking about this post, a study came out of England that supported my unscientific observations: "Cats outsmarted in psychologist's tests." I feel a little less disloyal knowing that there is scientific evidence that cats live, literally, in the moment. (Sort of like Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates.)
I'll publish this as soon as I can sit down. The senior cat is sitting in my desk chair even though I have moved her out of it approximately 1,460 times. Sigh.
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