Cat Talk

Friends,

I’ve never really liked cats. I have been inclined to agree with Ogden Nash who quipped, “The trouble with a kitten is that…sooner or later it becomes a cat." And my bad cat attitude wasn’t improved when the first time I visited Cathy at her home her cat promptly peed in my shoe. 

But all that was before I met and fell in love with Cassie, our two year old little gray cat who chose us from her cage at Critters, the animal sanctuary and adoption center here on Whidbey. Cathy and I had just filed our annual tax report and needed to celebrate with something uplifting in our lives. On a whim we decided to visit Critters. Cathy never made it past Cassie’s cage, and when she opened it Cassie reached out a paw, ended up purring in Cathy’s arms, and  we couldn’t wait to take her home. She is now well established here and entertains us with her playfulness, antics, lovely lap snuggles, and serves as a foot warmer in our bed. The three of us are all the better and happier for our mutual adoption, and I recommend a pet adoption if you are inclined to invite another species into your life. 

So we now share our home with an alien species. And I’m sure she thinks the same thing about us. I find it endlessly fascinating that two species can live so closely, and so interdependently, without sharing a common language to allow us to explain when there are so many questions about each other’s lives. However, in our case we somehow were able to make up a shared language that just arose naturally between us. It’s called “cat talk” or, more formally, Felinenese. Although Cassie is limited to only squeaks and an occasional meow she communicates quite well when she randomly squeaks her satisfaction with life, or being upset with her life, or she tells us she wants her dinner, or complains when we pick her up and disturb her sun bath nap. And Cathy and I, in turn, walk around the house randomly talking to her in our own cooing, baby talk rendition of "cat talk” which must sound like a lovely song to her but mostly makes no sense. We tell her how cute or sweet or smart she is, or ask her where she’s hiding out, or ask for help to find her toys which she has usually batted under the couch. The whole “cat talk” phenomenon is obviously irrational which makes it so appealing. It is mostly amusing and overly sentimental love talk that arises naturally from the heart, both ours and, I assume, in Cassie’s. But I need to say “cat talk” works very well only as far as it goes. And I am quite relieved it has its limitations. If we both spoke English, let’s say, I would hate to think that Cassie and I would spend the day interrupting each other trying to explain our likely different species-based perspectives on life. So I am quite satisfied with our communications with Cassie as they are, and I suspect this is true for other cat partners (not “owners;” you really don’t “own" a cat). 

The intimacy of our “cat talk” works because we know that the major part of any communication is heavily dependent on its emotional content rather than just the words themselves. We read meaning as much from a tone of voice or body language - meows, squeaks, tail twitches, for cats, for example - as we do from what is actually being said, and communicating with Cassie has been a good place to practice that art. If this is true it is completely understandable that the intimacy of our “cat talk” conversations with Cassie evoke a cherished sense of love and affection that has softened me and been such a gift to alleviate stress and anxiety in my everyday life.

And I think warm, heartfelt communication in general expresses the best in us, whether with cats or similar expressions of kindness with our children, family, co-workers and with all we meet. Perhaps one of the most important building blocks of peacemaking is when our words come from a caring and loving heart, and I know people who mostly live that way. Too sentimental or naive? Yes, but maybe we might well aspire for “cat talk” kindness to be the common language of us all.

Peace,
Tom

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Footnote: OK, in fairness to “dog talkers, "I thought I would also throw a positive bone to you.. I admire your more emphatic command style communications with your dogs. Unlike cats, dogs can take orders, and I’m glad they do, because I think they need to have direction and guidance that cats don’t need, or wouldn't listen to it anyway. Somehow cats think they are a sovereignty in and among themselves which makes them primarily slackers, but they’re good at it. Dogs listen, work and obey, and I have to admire that, too. They actually get things done. But just now I’m a sentimental convert to my cat.