One of my cats would get on the very top of a short step ladder and chase her tail. Going around the top board.
Does that make sense?
To a human, no. To a cat, probably. Cats can be very weird people. My husband calls their thought process “fuzzy logic”.
I thought this snippet from Inside Out explained a lot.
My dearly departed cat, Beru, would give fistbumps when she wanted a treat. I never taught her to do that. It was just something that she picked up during our 17 years together.
I also used to employ a “bad kitty bottle” for disciplinary reasons. She eventually realized that, if she misbehaved, I’d pull it out to aim her way. She would then sprint over to me and nudge it with her head, trying to get me to pull the trigger some so she could drink out of it.
When our field spaniel, Pluto encounters stray plant pots in the yard, he enjoys putting his snout into them and flipping them atop his head, so he can dash around with a pot as headgear.
Of course, wearing a sizable pot that blocks vision risks a collision with trees or other objects, but so far no trauma has ensued.
My first cat, Mies, could open doors with knobs. I was in college, my room was in a cinder block building, steel door frame, solid wood door and a stainless steel doorknob. The closet was on the same wall as the door with just enough room between the two to put a chair. Mies would sit on the armrest of the chair, put a paw on the top and a paw on the bottom of the knob and push with one paw and pull with the other. He would spend hours doing it and every so often he would get it to open. He couldn’t get off the second floor because of the stairwell doors being big, industrial push doors. Unfortunately, one time that he did escape, he came back with a stripe shaved down his back because college kids are asssholes.
My dog Cricket, loves baths. She will jump in the bathtub and whine until I give her one. If I ignore her, she will go outside, jump in the pond, then come back in, dripping muck all over the house, and then go back into the tub, knowing that now I will give her a bath.
My youngest cat, Charlie (2 1/2), likes to do parkour on our corgi. He leaps up on Wally’s back, then pushes off in a different direction. Half the time Wally doesn’t even seem to notice but when he does, he mostly looks puzzled.
Another cat I had was freaked out by ceiling fans. He didn’t notice them for the most part but when he did, he’d do a startle and run out of the room as if being chased by zombies.
My sister’s dog, a jack russel/daschund/fox terrier/?? blend did not like the cold.
In winter she would climb on top on my long suffering Labrador when he was lying down, and both would be happily asleep, one on top of the other.
She also enjoyed “the game” which was vastly entertaining to mid-teen me, where we would chase each other in a circular route through the house. I had a slight advantage in that I could vault the sofa. She had a slight disadvantage in that she felt the need to vocalise, in continuous high pitched barking.
My mother had a major disadvantage in that she had to listen to this, so “the game” got banned, but all I had to do is look at her (the dog) and stamp my feet a few times and she’d be off, full volume, racing around the house, three or more times.
One unusual thing about our meezers (Cocoa the lynx point and Vash the flame point) is that, instead of living up to the usual Siamese reputation for being motor mouths, they’re about the quietest cats I’ve ever known.
We’ve noticed that Buddy (basic generic orange tabby, male, green eyes) is much more vocal than Allie (apparent Siamese mix with some white on her chest and paws, cute little white blip on her face, female, blue eyes). Allie does seem to have quieted down a bit as she’s gotten older (she’s now 12).
Must supply pictures :).
Allie:
Buddy:
Our African Grey, Rocco, will pick up empty cans and drink the last drops. We keep cans away from him.
Does he “find” them in the middle of the fairway? On the green?
He’s only allowed to find balls in the rough away from the fairways and greens. If someone is playing the hole I will have him on leash out of sight, usually behind some trees so as not to distract them. The players never see us. If he were to see where their balls landed,and wasn’t on leash, he’d try to steal their balls.
Last night my Korat cat Benny leapt over the tall foot-board of my bed to join me in slumber, as he does every night. Except, just as he was about to land on the mattress, he saw that our cat Coconut was sleeping on his landing spot. Benny hates Coconut. Coconut hates Benny.
Benny actually defied gravity and all known physical laws of the Universe. He elevated and reversed direction in mid-flight, then scampered angrily away. I believe he entered a state of vacuum fluctuation that can only be explained by quantum mechanics. Let’s just say, if he ever climbs into a box, I’m not opening it. 
My current cat, Gibby, is a Bag Licker, a compulsive Bag Licker. Shopping bag, produce bag, shower curtain, zip-lok, cellophane, anything of that nature is gonna get licked. If it makes noise, even better.
Lucky you. Linden lives up to breed standards and yells for the manager several times a week. I keep telling him I’m an orphan so there’s no higher authority here to appeal to, but nevertheless he persists.
I used to have a girlfriend who had a dog named Zeke. He was a big shaggy black dog - over 100 pounds.
When he heard a siren, he’d get a treat for howling in imitation. So, as soon as he heard one, he’d go over to you and start whining in anticipation, until you’d start with your own howl, at which time he’d immediately harmonize. After a rousing session of “woooooo!”, he’d run to the kitchen for a treat.
As a result, I remember that it was impossible to watch the show COPS with Zeke.
He’d also steal gum. Right from your mouth. You’d better chew gum with your mouth closed around Zeke, unless you want to be tackled by a 100 pound shaggy dog.
We had a saluki who would hold DesertRoomie’s hand. If she was sitting at the computer he would come up to her, sit, and put his paw on the back of her hand. Not unusual so far but he would place it so one of her knuckles was in the space between his main pad and the toe pads, then flex his toes squeezing the knuckle slightly.
This was not a surprise because when he was just two days old – still just a blob of protoplasm – when she knelt by the whelping pan he would leave his mother and squirm over to where she was. We had no idea how he’d detected her.
Scent, probably. Their eyes and ears don’t work yet at that age, but their sense of smell does.