I'm convinced if cats had opposable thumbs, mankind would definitely be in trouble.

As far as I can tell, it's the only thing hampering my cat's total independence.

People say dogs are smart - and I'm sure they are - what with all that shaking hands and playing fetch.

But it's cats that have the real brains.

Dogs will do anything to please humans - learning to sit, stay and beg for food.

Cats, on the other hand, will simply remind you it is your privilege to feed them, groom them, change their litter and let's not forget entertain them.

My kitty, Gabriel LeMew, has expressed his superior intelligence on more than one occasion when reminding me how to take care of him.

An example is his unique way of telling me that it's time to be fed.

When my husband and I adopted Gabriel, he was a stray and he was underweight.

So our veterinarian instructed us to "feed him liberally" until he put on a few pounds.

A few pounds later, Gabriel still insists on that generous feeding plan. He likes to remind me several times a day that in his opinion, it's time to be fed.

Most animals would just fuss by pacing frantically near their food bowls. Not my kitty.

Gabriel knows which cupboard his food is kept in, and he has no qualms about opening it. Once open, he gets the scooper I use to measure his food and graciously brings it to me.

The first couple of times, I was absolutely amazed. Who would have thought a cat would be smart enough to not only open up a kitchen cupboard, but also to pick up the food scooper and deliver it to his owner! How cute!

Fast forward a few months, and the novelty of that particular trick has worn off.

So I started to ignore Gabriel's constant attempts to remind me he wanted food.

And how did my smart feline repay me?

He modified his little "here's my scooper, time to feed me" trick by no longer laying the scooper gently at my feet. Now, he throws it at me.

After being pelted by the plastic scooper a few times, I had to admit the darn kitty is a lot smarter than I had originally thought.

If it weren't for the fact that his food is kept in a plastic container with a lid he can't open on his own, I'm pretty sure Gabriel would weigh about 500 pounds by now.

Cats also have a keen sense of time, despite what some people may think. I never have to ask what time it is when Gabriel pokes me in the face each morning. Without fail, it's always 6:05 a.m.

While this would be helpful if the power ever went out and my alarm clock failed to wake me for work, it is not so practical for a Saturday morning when I'm trying to sleep in.

The only thing worse than him waking me at 6:05 a.m. on a Saturday is when he also is carrying the food scooper. That's just adding insult to injury.

But I'm not the only one Gabriel torments.

My husband is in charge of cleaning Gabriel's litter. He's usually very good about getting to it first thing every morning.

On those rare occasions when he doesn't, Gabriel is certain to make his job twice as hard with his gentle reminder that the litter box's condition is unacceptable.

He does this by getting in the box and throwing all the litter out of the box with his hind legs. His task just isn't complete until there is litter covering every square inch of the room.

Usually, if he's in a good mood, Gabriel will give us a warning first. But if we ignore him, it's litter all around.

I keep hoping we can someday train Gabriel to use the toilet so we can forgo the litter box, but so far, he only seems interested in drinking from it.

Despite all this, I can't help but love the little furball.

And honestly, we can't blame anyone but ourselves for his bad behavior.

Cats once were revered by man. Their faces adorned temples and Egyptian kings and queens thought they were a source of power and knowledge. They put them up on pedestals and all but worshipped them.

And I swear, to this day, cats have never forgotten it.