I loved that video... but I don't know on the 'planning' thing... or I suppose there might be exceptions to the rules.

While my ball of fluffiness has a brain that much like his exterior, his older brother, does seem to plan. Frighteningly well...

I often wonder what was in the breast milk of the mother for my monsterous cats since I know what I feed them. But the older brother, affectionately known as Squeaky Toy, is about the smartest animal I've come across, excluding his sadly passed on brother, Hopper, even more the monster size wise. Hopper weighed in at nearly 35lbs of solid muscle and well over four feet in length (that's not including the tail) before he met his maker at 5 years old likely from a heart attack.

But back to his diminutive by comparison brother, who is just barely larger than Snowcap (master fluffiness), though considerably less now in body weight (age is 16 years and summers aren't kind to him).

Regardless the cat has been seen collecting and burying worms follow rainstorms and this is inevitably followed up by a little mole death camp in the front yard come morning. He can catch as many as 8-10 moles (at least that is what he'll litter the front yard with) in a single night after setting his 'traps'. Further he seems to know when the squirrel breeding seasons and pupping seasons are. He'll go from a yard filled with little squirrel bits, to allowing the squirrels to hop right on top of him. (A squirrel conservationalist??)

He along with his brother and their sister were infamous back in the day for following a pack like hunting pattern which terrorized the local dogs, birds and squirrel populations. (Thankfully Hopper was a gentle giant who unlike his sister and brother would give a nice bath to the captured prey before sending off on it's merry way. Occasionally offering nudges of encouragement to the poor creature who no doubt had their life flash before their eyes.)

At my husband's urging I tried the puzzle box with Squeaky last night, to see if he'd fair better than his brother. He did, before I could even set the box down he'd already reached his paw in and swiped a few treats. And under a minute he had extracted all the treats from the box and looked up at me with a look of disgust for making him work for them.

Little seems to get past him, and my neighbors are often shocked to learn that when I'm whistling from the front porch, it's to call my cat. He also knows quite well that when 'mommy' stops whistling and starts counting his little tail better be hightailing it into the house.

So I've one brainiac and one maniac for cats. One whose allowed outside by proving he can handle the great outdoors and protect the home from the multitude of various assorted snakes in the area, and one who will forever remain indoors for his own protection as he continues to lose battles with inanimate objects and has yet to defeat a dust bunny.