Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 November 1884 — Prince Krapotkin’s Cat. [ARTICLE]

Prince Krapotkin’s Cat.

Does a cat see its reflection in a glass? Such is the question which has been raised in the columns of the Revue Scientifique. Among others Frincb Krapotkin has sent his experience from his prison. The Prince lias, it seems, daring his captivity made a humble friend of a cat. “I see,” says the Prince, “by reading the interesting notes in the last two numbers of the Fevue that there yet exists a doubt as to whether a cat can see its reflection in a glass. I have a cat about fourteen months old, which I have brought up in prison, and as regards it, at least, there can be no doubt upon this subject. When it was little, it amused us much by seeking a cat behind the glass, even when I showed it a very small one. I have just repeated the experiment by showing it a small oval mirror twenty centimeter* long. When it saw its own reflected image it immediately assumed a serious air. It endeavored to touch it with its paw, but finding that there was a glass interposed, it peeped behind the mirror. If I drew- the mirror backward it pursued it until, being quicker than I was in its movements, it discovered that tliere was no cat behind, and then it went away and did not concern itself about the reflection any more. I should add that my little pupil, as a general thing, is very intelligent. For instance when it wants the door opened it does not mew, it stretches itself to its full length, and shakes the latch with its paw. If the door had another kind of fastening, it would certainly open it by raising the latch. It knows perfectly well the meaning of all the bells which ring in the prison—that to bid the inmates rise in the morning, that which sounds before soup is served. Its dictionary is very limited, but it understands perfectly the meaning of the words it knows. Thus, in the evening, when I wMk in my room, it performs all sorts of gambols, and, by making certain special sounds, endeavors to make me play with it at hide and seek (it plays this game exactly as do children, and insists that each party should hide in his turn), or to draw a string along for it to run after. If, in reply to its invitations to play, I say to it: “What do yon want? Food! drink!” it is displeased, goes with a sulky air to sit behind my little stove, but when I say, ‘the string?’ it replies immediately by two sounds, concerning the affirmative tone of which there can be no doubt. I could relate other instances of sagacity, but I do not wish to impose upon the credulity of your readers. There is, however, an interesting point which it would be well to have cleared up. Are cats susceptible to music? Without being able to affirm positively, I believe that they are. When my cat was little, it several times seemed to us that it found real pleasure in listening to some air of a pleasing cadence—for example, the waltz from ‘Faust’—provided that it was sung by a very high and pure voice. We even thought that music caused it to assume almost a sentimental air. It is unnecessary to say my cat, like all others, is very susceptble to caresses, and—for I must confess its faults—to flattery. In general, cats are less intelligent than dogs, but by care and attention their intelligence can be highly developed. I am sorry that I have not sufficent time, or I should undertake the education of my cat by a system of cards, as proposed by Lubbock.”— Pall Mall Gazette.