Throughout my life I’ve had many pets including numerous cats, four dogs, three guinea pigs, and one tamed and talking parakeet that lived for nine years. I am, as you may suspect a passionate proponent of animal intelligence, with some amazing animal stories to share. In keeping with the theme of the blog, these anecdotes include instinct and intuition, telepathy and medical intuiting. This post however, features animal intelligence and the two remarkable Maine Coon cats we had the honor to raise. Aside from enjoying their sweet and silly antics, their legacy includes extraordinary events which far surpass successfully executing simple behavioral commands.  

Most of our pets were SPCA adoptees or acquired from people who were looking to rehome them. These animals always seem to have a deeper connection, love and devotion with their people. For example, our guinea pigs; the offspring of my son’s first grade’s class mascots, would start squealing as soon as we came into the house. Did they associate our return with the sound of the automatic garage door opening?  Somehow they knew we were home even before anyone uttered a word.

As a young child, my daughter underwent a gruesome battle, with the Shingles virus. It took that long to correctly diagnose and treat her…Treasure, her beloved calico feline guardian, brought ions of comfort in her time of misery. The only way my daughter could sleep comfortably, was on her stomach. When I checked at night to see how she was doing, I’d often find her cat planted directly on top of the inflamed areas of my daughter’s legs. Animal intelligence, instinct and empathy are all entwined in our human-pet love affairs.

But, the most outlandish animal stories involve the Maine Coons. When I was a child my best friend introduced me to this breed. She brought a Maine Coon home for her mother. I was smitten. Years and two children later, my daughter and I were playing at a park while my son had a tennis lesson.  She heard distressed meowing and noticed three kittens stranded maybe twenty feet up a tree. We solicited a lovely athletic looking woman’s help. She scaled the trunk, gingerly grabbing and passing them down to us. My son kept the fluffy white and gray donning him Loki, the Trickster. It will be noted that there was no dark shadow like the Norse and Marvel characters, looming in this cat. He was marshmallow of a fellow and he turned out to be part Maine Coon.  My daughter kept his sister Treasure, the calico.

I used to let my cats go outside. In so doing we learned the Loki was also a great hunter! There are a few things that give me the heebee-geebees like swarms of ants and maggots, but I definitely have a strong aversion to seeing dead animals. When I was five I saw a dog hit by a car outside our home and perhaps the trauma of that experience sets off this intense reaction.  It is as if someone has sucker punched me in the gut. I gasp averting my attention and clutch my chest. My children and now my grandson will attest to my freak-outs seeing lifeless animals. The irony is that this only happens in response to animals. I’ve witnessed many ghastly sights without flinching, when I worked the Pediatric Department of two hospitals which also included working in the Pediatric I.C.U. and Burn Units.  

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals… In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.”                                                                                                                                     Henry Beston, Writer-Naturalist

It was my daughter’s seventh birthday. I woke up early to set her presents on the table before she came down for breakfast. I let the cats outside and set the table festively. When I opened the slider door to let them back inside a beheaded bird lay gruesomely on the foot mat. I shrieked and scolded the culprit Loki; killing the bird for the sheer pleasure of the sport. “I just fed you! You didn’t need to kill that beautiful bird. I hate dead birds. If you want to bring me a present, bring me flowers.” The following morning I reminded him, “just flowers” I said as I let him out. When I returned a few minutes later to let him in, I found a large fern frond on the mat! I kid you not. Both children were still asleep. The mat was bare moments before and I am certain no one snuck over the fence. Our dogs would have alerted us. How high on the charts would you rate his level of animal intelligence?

Phoenix was the most personable and dynamic cat I’ve had. We first met the day I went to our veterinarian’s office to pick up our mama cat, Isa’s ashes. Isa was my tuxedo cat. She was a loyal standby during the adjustment period after relocating from New York, to California, the consoler through my divorce, and the forever nanny to my children, especially my daughter, the youngest.

As I waited in the office I noticed a cage with three kittens. I asked the receptionist if I could hold one. She nodded. I took out the smallest, a black scrawny little boy with Mickey Mouse looking paws. He had an extra toe on both front ones. After snuggling for a few minutes he crawled up my arm, perched on my shoulder and purred in my ears! That was all it took. I was a goner. Little did I know as I took him home, that Phoenix was a Maine Coon too. Now it was my turn to have the cat I dreamed of as a child.

Maine Coon cats, particularly males are notorious for being playful. Phoenix liked hiding behind our floor length curtains returning light weight balls we passed to him; Kitty Soccer. It was a riot seeing one black paw jut out and swat the ball back.  He also LOVED pipe cleaners! We did a lot of craft projects when my children were young. I stored art supplies in the bottom kitchen cabinets making them easily accessible. One day we were stringing beads on pipe cleaners to make bracelets. I took one twisted it like a spring and tossed it in his direction. Phoenix was utterly delighted with this new toy. He picked it up in his mouth and proudly carried it around, like flaunting his prey. After a while we cleaned up making sure there were no runaway beads for the cats to pick up and potentially swallow. I gathered the unused pipe cleaners and placed them back in their cellophane package. Putting them in the bottom cabinet we set off for an outdoor adventure. When we returned I headed into the kitchen to get snacks and found a brand new unfolded pipe cleaner lying in the middle of the floor. I was certain I had collected all of them before we left. I opened the bottom cabinet and found that the cellophane package had been tampered with, but only the one had been taken out!

This cat also had dewclaws on both front paws making opening things like cabinet doors, and I gather cellophane packages, quite easy. “Did you help yourself to one of these” I asked? “They’re for art projects. I already gave you one” I told him. I took the pipe cleaner package and placed it in the upper utensils draw thinking they would safe. He couldn’t possibly open a drawer. Or could he?

Later that day when I returned the cellophane package was lying on the floor!  Phoenix had emptied it spreading all pipe cleaners across the entire kitchen… Pets are like kids. Both have minds of their own! It is incredible thinking about what he had to do accomplish this. I wish I had had a video cam to capture his maneuvers. Did he open the bottom cabinet, climb in and somehow push the upper drawer open from underneath? Or did he stand on his two back legs and grab the lip of the drawer? He was a huge cat and when he stood upright he was about three feet tall. What is also astonishing is the drawer and cabinet doors were closed when we got home. How thorough of him. Phoenix casually meandered into the kitchen and looked over at a dumbfounded me.  Pleased as punch he walked by and swished me with his long fluffy tail. I imagine he was saying, “You thought that upper drawer was impossible for me to reach? I love a  good challenge. Bring it on. Oh, and I win!”

Do you have amazing animal stories that are demonstrative of animal intelligence? Feel free to email them to: saof2minds@gmail.com

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