There are, of course, many ways that cats communicate with humans and one another that I didn't enumerate in the previous post. Everyone knows about hissing cats and arching of backs, fluffing-puffing of tails, sideways posing, and other aspects of cat territorial defenses and protective postures. They've heard female cats in heat calling for a mate. They've also heard rival male cats yowling at one another.
But what of cats rubbing up against you or weaving in and out of your legs? What about cat greetings, both with one another and (sometimes) with you? Head butting, purring, kneading?
There is a wide physical vocabulary cats seem to use consistently across species with one another and they use it with humans, too, so even when we aren't necessarily aware of it, we learn to "speak cat," because they teach us. If we're going to be in proximity with them, we must learn to use and appreciate their language, just as they will come to understand and (sometimes) use bits and pieces of ours.
Recent study suggests that (wonder of wonders) cats are quite capable of using our language concisely and adeptly to communicate their wants and needs. Unlike dogs and gorillas and such, they don't seem to want to or quite understand how to make full sentences (as we would see it) but are content to indicate their desire/intent with one word: "Food!" "Out!" "Dog!" and such.
There's a white dog in our neighborhood, for example, a big Pyrenees/Pit mix named Douglas, who is supposed to be kept in an enclosure or in the house, but he sometimes gets out and runs free. At first he would make a bee-line for our place and chase the cats mercilessly. So far as we know, they all always got away. The cats learned that just hearing the word "Douglas!" was a signal to take cover, even if they didn't see or hear the dog. Then there were the times the dog would amble over to our place and just sort of hang around, not chasing cats or really doing anything. We wouldn't even necessarily know he was here except that the cats would come to tell us: "Dog!" They'd do it with their eyes. With their pacing. By getting down low and flat, then coming to one of us with an imploring look on their face. It took a little while to learn that's what they were saying. And once they understood or saw for themselves that Douglas was under control, they'd be fine and go about their business.
Cats primarily communicate with one another and with us through physical action (and/or telepathy, as mentioned in the previous post.) Most are not usually vocal, and when they are, their vocalizations have a tendency to grate on our nerves rather than communicate much useful information. Right now, there's a cat named Larry (for the skeleton in Clash of the Clans -- it's a long story) who wants to be fed. He will vocalize if his actions don't result in Food!, but he much prefers physical acts to get our attention and get us to feed him. He paces back and forth in front of us. He will jump on the back of my chair as showily and deliberately as possible and sometimes whack the back of my head. He will pace to the door, and when I get up to let him out, he will turn and run to the food-dish in the kitchen. He will threaten to spray urine if he doesn't get his food promptly. He will sit and look at me with the saddest possible face -- don't believe people who say cats don't have different expressions depending on their mood and demands.
So on and so forth. All to get me to open a can of cat food for him (harder and harder to get these days). Then he's happy and goes to sleep on a high perch above the washing machine.
Oh there is much more to say about cat communications, but that's it for today! 🐱
No comments:
Post a Comment