Anyone who knows me knows I love my animals.
They’re not like family, they are family – and that being the case, I converse with them as I would a human member of my tribe.
“Steve, are you ready for breakfast?” I’ll ask our Chihuahua each morning.
When I do, he jumps from the bed, hits the floor running at full stride, and does a couple of twirls in front of his food bowl.
“Here you go, buddy,” I’ll say as I pour his dry food. “Now, let me go the fridge and get some wet food to mix in. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
By anthropomorphizing my critters, I feel as though we’re the same species and on the same wavelength.
But I wonder … do they do the same to us? They’d have to, right?
Bane, our gray cat, chatters incessantly. Unless he’s asleep, he’s “talking,” and many times he’s talking to me.
On my end, I’m hearing a series of chitters and chirps that make little sense, prompting me to say things like, “What’s the matter, Mr. B?” or, “Do you want daddy to pick you up and hold you?”
I’ll assume he does, and after he’s picked up and held, he’ll purr enthusiastically.
But … was that truly his request? Perhaps he was jabbering on about something else entirely.
“What bugs me,” he might’ve been saying in his native, sandpaper tongue, “is that Bruce Wayne faked his death in The Dark Knight Rises. Honestly, it just ruined the whole movie for me and really tarnished Batman’s legacy. And do you think after Alfred saw him and Selena at that café and realized he was still alive, Alfred reported the fraud to Jim Gordon? Hell, no. He just walked away smirking, like it was no big deal.”
And when I responded, all Bane heard was, “Blardy, blardy, blar, blar, blar.”
Still, I’m guessing he assumes I was agreeing with him (which I kinda do; Batman is a lot of things, but he ain’t no quitter).
Mr. B has also developed a habit of rousting me in the middle of the night with frantic warbling.
At first, I’d get up to check his food or water bowls, but usually they were mostly full. After several rude awakenings I discovered – much to my horror – that he was alerting me to the fact that he’d just left a prize in the litter box.
So, while originally I thought he was saying, “Dad, I need help” most likely his words were, “Better scoop, bag and take it to the dumpster, my man … I don’t want my fuzzy butt going anywhere near that evil.”
Thor, the ginger cat, is usually quiet but every now and then he’ll let loose with a series of thunderous meows.
No clue what he’s trying to communicate but I figure it’s along the lines of, “Duuuuude! Duuuuude! Duuuuude!”
Then again, it could be a simple case of Cat Tourette Syndrome.
Steve – as is the wont of all small dogs – loves to bark. And he barks a lot.
Squirrels, birds, outdoor cats, outdoor dogs, delivery drivers, feral children … he can unleash some of the most bloodcurdling sounds you can imagine. To me, it’s ear-piercing noise.
What he might be trying to convey, however, is “ASSHOLES! ASSHOLES! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!!!!”
But to his credit, he does have some barks that I think he knows I understand.
When he needs to go outside to pee and/or poop, he’ll trot to the door and release a quick, sharp bark.
I translate it to, “Dad, please take me out.”
In his dog dialect the direct quote is closer to, “Grab the leash, bitch, before I bite your butt.”
And at night if he, the female human and his kitty bros are already in the bedroom and I’m still on the futon in the den, he’ll stare at me with a pitiful look and yip twice.
I hear, “Please come to bed, dad.”
He’s saying, “Hit the sheets, assface, before I bite your butt.” (I just assume Steve curses and likes to bust my chops … he seems like the type).
Once in bed, he’ll look straight at his mom and make a series of grunts and growls as if trying to say, “I often think about biting the fleshiest part of the male human’s buttocks … I’m not sure why, I’m just compelled to do it.”
Obviously, my Beastie Boys don’t speak English, and I don’t speak Doglish or Catlish. It’d be kinda messed up if we did.
We communicate quite well, though, and have been able to build a pretty sweet world together. That makes me very, very happy.
Even if Steve wants to bite my butt.
