Are Pets Intelligent Enough to Understand Us?

Whether or not animals are "smart" or just react according to instinct has been debated for many years. A German shepherd grabs the back of a three-year-old's pants as she tries to climb over the backyard fence: Is that herding "instinct" or the intelligence of a pet knowing the child was not supposed to be climbing over the fence.? I am one of the people who say some animals, especially some pets, understand us and show intelligence. The German shepherd mentioned previously grew up with our daughter. When both were nearly three-months old, I sat the baby in an infant seat just inside the back screen door, where I could see her, while I hung up clothes on the line. Pepper ran around the fenced yard, coming by for attention before taking off again. My daughter, who had been happily playing with her hands, started crying. I put the diaper in my hands back in the basket of clothes and started toward the door. Pepper rushed by me, hopped up the steps, and gave a soft "woof" at the baby. The baby stopped mid-sob, stared wide-eyed at the dog, and burst into giggles, her first laugh. I returned to my task while Pepper remained outside the screen door for a few minutes. Then she jumped down to run over to me. I petted her head. "Good girl. You are the best babysitter, Pepper." A few minutes later, the baby cried again. Pepper ran to the screen and woofed at her again. My daughter laughed. That became the procedure for the rest of the time I hung clothes. This dog could be shown the limits of our yard, and she would not cross that imaginary line unless my husband or I gave her permission, no matter what the temptation provided. But Pepper wasn't the only pet who "understood." Shadow, a miniature black panther (he looked like one and moved like one), definitely understood what people said and acted more human than many people. When we lived in the country, we had a mouse problem, but Shadow would not lower himself to catch any of them. We got another cat who was an excellent mouser. One day the other cat caught a mouse, and I told Shadow, "See, Tabby knows her job." The male cat glared at me and stalked to the door, demanding to be let out. I opened the door for him, and he streaked outside. A few minutes later, he scratched at the door. I opened it to find him on the porch, a rat under one foot. He looked at me a few seconds before slapping the rat off the porch. Guess he showed me what he could do if he wanted. Sometime later, we were given a Siamese kitten, one supposedly a female. The kitten was so scared that its tail curled up between its hind legs. We never checked its sex because we were told it was a she, and most tomcats won't tolerate another one. Shadow sniffed at Taffy and walked away. That night we put "her" in a box in the bathroom next to our bedroom. Shadow slept in the top stacking basket on the bookshelf headboard above my head. When the kitten started yowling, before I could crawl out of bed, Shadow leaped to the floor and ran to the bathroom (he could open the door). When I arrived, the huge male was cleaning and comforting the tiny kitten. When Taffy no longer had to stay in the bathroom, he followed Shadow everywhere. But the night we went to bed, Shadow and my husband with me, and found Taffy in Shadow's bed, I had to leave the room to laugh. Shadow jumped up, booted the kitten out, and pushed him into the second basket down before jumping into his own bed. He hung his head down to stare at Taffy, said a few choice words in catanese, and went to sleep. Taffy slept in the lower bunk from then on. As we prepared to moved to town, my daughter helped me pack. We took a break in the living room. Shadow lay in the middle of the carpet, sleeping. My daughter asked me what we were going to do with all the cats. I told her that all but Shadow had new homes. "Then since you're going to be in town, you'll need to have him fixed, won't you?" she asked. Shadow's head flew up. He stared at my daughter and then shuddered all over. We both laughed as he glared. (Yes, cats can certainly glare.) Several months later, one of my former students wanted to practice his vacuum cleaner presentation, so we agreed. He sat in the middle of the living room visiting after he had given his spiel. I was on the couch, Shadow beside me. "That's one big cat," Jack remarked, "but I like dogs better because they'll roll over and let me rub their stomachs." Shadow jumped down, walked in front of Jack, flopped down, and rolled over. Jack sat staring at the cat. "Go ahead, rub his stomach," I said. Jack did as he laughingly remarked, "I think he really understood me." I have given only a short list of the anecdotic examples I have just from my own pets. I firmly believe that animals can and do understand, that they have more than instinct to guide them. Yes, some are not as intelligent as others, but those who live and interact with people can and do understand. Too bad we can't understand them as well.