Cat Intelligence
Personal Essay · Science

Cat Intelligence

A veterinarian's 12-year journey into the mysterious minds of felines, and what he discovered along the way

Author
A Researcher's Memoir
Veterinarian & Cat Cognition Researcher
Orange cat looking thoughtfully

I began seriously studying cat intelligence in 2008. That year, I was working as a resident veterinarian at an animal hospital, seeing all kinds of cats every day. One orange cat left a deep impression on me. Its owner told me that this cat could open doors by itself—not the kind with lever handles you push down, but round doorknobs. I didn't believe it at first. The owner showed me a video. That cat gripped the doorknob with both front paws, suspended its body in the air, twisted its body to turn the knob, and the door opened.

This incident changed everything I did afterward.

Before that, academic research on cat intelligence was pitifully scarce. There were thousands upon thousands of papers on dog cognition, but maybe only a few dozen on cats. The reason was simple: cats don't cooperate with experiments. When you ask a dog to do a task, the dog will cooperate—it wants to please you. When you ask a cat to do a task, the cat looks at you once and walks away. Many researchers gave up after one or two experiments, saying cats were "untestable."

The disparity in research was staggering—dogs had been studied for over a century, while cats remained largely a mystery to science.

In 2009, I applied for a small research grant—$3,500—wanting to conduct an object permanence experiment with cats. Object permanence refers to an animal's understanding that an object still exists even when it can no longer be seen. Human infants develop this ability around 8 months of age. I recruited 12 domestic cats as experimental subjects.

Cat in laboratory setting

Early experiments were conducted in sterile laboratory environments

The experiment failed.

Out of 12 cats, 8 wouldn't even look at the treats I placed under cups. 2 looked but wouldn't use their paws to move the cups. Only 2 completed the task. This sample size couldn't support any publishable conclusions.

Are you doing experiments on the cat's territory, or on your territory?

— A Primate Cognition Researcher

I spent three months figuring out what went wrong. I went to consult a professor who researched primate cognition, and she asked me one question: "Are you doing experiments on the cat's territory, or on your territory?" All my experiments had been conducted in the laboratory. The cats were brought to an unfamiliar environment, smelling disinfectant, with strangers watching them. Their lack of cooperation was completely normal.

2010

I changed my approach. I started going to cat owners' homes to conduct experiments. I brought my equipment to their doors and tested cats in environments they were familiar with. I required owners to be present but not to intervene. I sat in front of each cat for 20 minutes first, doing nothing, letting them get used to my presence.

The results were different.

This time I tested 15 cats, and 11 completed the object permanence test. 6 cats demonstrated A-not-B error correction ability—meaning they could remember changes in object location and wouldn't stubbornly go to where they had previously found the treat. This ability doesn't appear in human infants until around 12 months of age.

I wrote up this finding as a paper and submitted it to the journal Animal Cognition. It was rejected. The reviewers said my sample size was too small and the experimental conditions weren't standardized enough (because every household's environment was different).

In 2011, I submitted again, adding more data, having tested a total of 43 cats. Rejected again. This time the reviewers said my methodology was flawed—experiments conducted in home environments couldn't control variables.

I was frustrated. I was doing something no one had done before, and the academic world was judging it by traditional standards. I had no laboratory, no team, no major funding. I only had myself, my equipment, and cat owners willing to let me through their doors.

From 2012 to 2015, I put this research direction on hold. I continued my veterinary work, occasionally visiting cat owners' homes on weekends to make observations, no longer systematically collecting data. I got married, had a child, and the focus of life shifted.
2016

Something happened in 2016 that made me start again. I saw a video on YouTube of a Siamese cat playing a game on an iPad. It wasn't randomly slapping the screen—it was tracking a virtual mouse moving on the screen, predicting the mouse's trajectory, and tapping where the mouse was about to appear. Someone in the comments said this cat was "better at gaming than me."

I realized technology had changed. In 2009, I used cups and treats—very primitive tools. Now I could use touchscreen devices, applications, data recording precise to the millisecond. I could measure cats' reaction times, prediction accuracy, learning curves.

Cat with technology

Technology opened new doors for feline cognition research

I contacted a friend who did app development, and she helped me design an iPad app specifically for testing cat cognitive abilities. We spent six months developing it, then another three months testing and fixing bugs. In the summer of 2017, the app went live.

This time I no longer relied only on myself. I recruited cat owners online to participate in experiments. They downloaded the app, followed instructions to let their cats play the game, and data automatically uploaded to my server. In the first year, I collected data from over 400 cats.

400+
Cats in Year One
1,200+
Total Database
12
Years of Research

The data revealed some interesting things. There was great individual variation in cats' cognitive abilities. Some cats learned the game rules after 10 attempts, while others were still randomly tapping after 100 tries. Age was a factor—cats between 3 and 6 years old performed best. Breed also had an influence—Siamese and Abyssinian cats had higher average scores than other breeds.

In 2018, I published my first paper, in a not very well-known journal. Citation count was low. I didn't expect overnight fame—this isn't that kind of story.

🐾   🐾   🐾
2019

In 2019, I quit my veterinary job and became a full-time researcher. This was a risky decision. My wife had a stable income, and we had some savings—this meant our household income was cut in half. I was 48 years old, giving up a stable career to pursue research that might never yield results.

My wife supported me. She said, "If you don't do it now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

If you don't do it now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life.

— My Wife

2020

In 2020, the COVID pandemic broke out. Many things came to a halt, but my research actually accelerated. People were stuck at home, spending much more time with their cats. The number of cat owners participating in my experiments tripled. By the end of 2020, my database contained cognitive test data from over 1,200 cats.

This is currently the largest cat cognitive ability database in the world.

I'm now writing a book, planning to publish it next year. Not an academic monograph, but a book for general readers. About how cats think, what they can understand, what they remember, and how they see us.

What I Now Know About Cats

Cats can count, at least up to 4 or 5.

Cats can remember where things happened, and can remember events from at least 10 minutes ago.

Cats can distinguish human facial expressions, knowing whether you're happy or angry.

Cats can understand their own names—they just choose not to respond.

I don't know if anyone will buy this book. I don't know if my research will be recognized by the academic world. What I do know is that I've spent 12 years doing one thing, and this thing gives me a reason to get up every morning.

Three cats together

I have three cats at home. One is named Peanut, an orange cat, 9 years old. One is named Black Bean, pure black, 5 years old. One is named Sesame, black and white, 3 years old. Peanut is the smartest of the three—he can open drawers to find treats. Black Bean is the dumbest, often walking into glass doors. Sesame is in the middle.

Orange cat

Peanut

Orange · 9 years old

"The smartest—can open drawers to find treats"

Black cat

Black Bean

Pure Black · 5 years old

"The dumbest—often walks into glass doors"

Black and white cat

Sesame

Black & White · 3 years old

"Somewhere in the middle"

They don't know I'm studying their species. They only know that every morning I pour cat food for them, and every evening I play with them for a while. That's enough.