by Ted Sherman

Created on: August 06, 2008   Last Updated: August 12, 2008

We didn't need any scientific study to understand our cat's memory. Although Mems was just an ordinary grey striped and white tabby, it was always evident that he had a fabulous, sometimes annoying, memory. One proof was a morning ritual where Mems believed his memory-challenged human had to be reminded of my duties every day. I was usually awakened by our alarm at 6 a.m., because I always wanted to get into the office early and clear up problems of the previous day before my staff arrived and new problems took over.

Mems knew what to do when the alarm sounded. He'd quickly leave his cat pad and jump on our bed. He'd then stalk around, stepping on my chest, hair and face. Mems' purring was as loud as a fine-tuned engine, and it was running at full volume as he fulfilled his duty to make sure I was waking up. I'd swear sometimes I could actually make out the word, "Purrrrrr", especially when it was being spoken an inch from my ear.

Mems would sit on the bed glaring impatiently at me as I came out of the bathroom and dressed. Then, when I was at the top of the stairway from our bedroom to our home's first floor, Mems would station himself against my right leg. As I descended the steps, he'd come along while weaving in and out from one of my legs to the other. It was all I could do to keep from tripping and tumbling down the steps, and often I'd become frustrated enough to pick up the cat with one foot and push him gently down the steps.

Mems' routine every morning was exactly the same. It didn't take me long to figure out his reasoning. He thought I was so stupid that when I went up to bed every night, by morning I'd forget how to walk down the steps. His motivation was beyond that, because he knew I'd feed him when we reached the kitchen. And if I was too slow to do that, he'd put his front feet up on the counter and meow until I took out a can of cat food.

Incidentally, although it could have been appropriate, Mems' name had nothing to do with his great memory. The cat decided to adopt our family one Memorial Day morning when he wandered into our kitchen and indicated very clearly, "I'm here to stay. Now, what's for breakfast?" Our kids then decided to call our new family member Mems.

The morning wake-up ritual wasn't the only proof of Mems' great memory. He also walked our kids to the school bus every weekday morning just at 7:30 a.m. Then, he'd be at the same spot at 3:30 p.m. when the kids got off the bus. We joked that he must have had a cat wristwatch somewhere. Another example was one of Mems' not so welcome visit schedules.

A cat-phobic neighbor had summertime outdoor family barbecues on Friday nights, and complained to us that Mems always sat on a nearby wall and stared at the diners. We tried to explain that he was just waiting politely to get a bit of burned chicken or hot dog, and would never interfere with them. However, in the interest of neighborhood harmony, we promised to keep Mems at home during the neighbor's Friday events.

While I have no scientific proof of how precise a cat's memory may be, but every human in our family can attest to the fact that Mems' had an excellent memory.

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