We have two cats. Normally when confronted with two beings, one can differentiate them in a number of ways, one of which is "the smart one" and "the dumb one." Our cats, however, defy such classification. They are both dumb, very, although in different ways. It's depressing, almost. Abelard, for example: his behavior on most occasions would cause one to assign him the label "the smart one": he's afraid of small children, he knows that there are numerous advantages to jumping on our laps and purring, he... well, ok, so I can't think of anything else... except he climbed in the pantry and ripped open the catfood bag, which, while bad, was sort of smart. But the cat can't deal with the new water dish we got him--Le Bistro--to match the food bowl we bought some time ago. This way we'd hardly ever have to deal with cat input, only cat output, and that we can automate when we feel up to spening $100 or so on a Littermaid.
Ah, if only it were so easy. I mean, it sort of is--we put food and water in the appropriate dispensers, and it sits there, being foody and watery, respectively. Eloise eats and drinks enthusiastically (being "the fat one"). But Abelard... not so much. He doesn't get it. He knows it's water, but he can't seem to keep his paws out of it when he (presumably) wants to drink. And as everyone knows, cats drink exclusively through their mouths, never their feet, so this behavior is, in the first place, perplexing. In the second, it is, of course, messy. Because he sticks his paws in, then shakes them off violently, finding that sticking them in his water bowl gets them (horrors!) wet. Which spills a good quarter cup or so of water around the bowl, on the floor. Which is a slipping hazard, and damned annoying.
So we don't have a smart cat. Only two stupid ones. Which isn't, in their defense, to say that they are particularly stupid, for cats, just that if they were humans, they would definitely be in special ed for life.