Cats Try to Converse with Their Owners

This week’s question comes from the barnyard. But before we go
there, I want to tell about a brief discussion I had with some
friends about cats.
This week’s question comes from the barnyard. But before we go there, I want to tell about a brief discussion I had with some friends about cats. It seems everyone has a story to tell about his or her favorite feline, but yesterday’s conversation centered around how cats “talk”. Some people may not agree, but I’m convinced cats try to talk like their human companions.

There have been hundreds of studies done to determine how kitties really communicate. Researchers have spent huge amounts of time and money trying to get inside the minds of cats. (What a great job that must be. Imagine, getting paid to analyze kitty-cat conversations.)

Anyway, I saw the results of one Stanford study that said the average housecat makes more than 30 different sounds, each with its own significance. After reading that, I watched and listened to our cat, Rumpy, to see if he had anywhere near that kind of vocabulary. I was a little disappointed with my findings.

As far as I can tell, Rumpy seems to be a feline of few words. Truth is, I never really gave him a fair chance to show his verbal abilities. That’s because my observations always failed for the usual reasons. One of the Rumpster’s favorite things is food. And after he tells me how hungry he is (he has at least 4 different “words” for this), I feed him. Well, one thing always leads to another and after a snack, it’s time for us both to take a nap (another of his favorite things). No more talking. End of study for the day.

Actually, I’ve chronicled at least 9 different sounds that Rumpy makes, each with its own significance. When he enters a darkened room and isn’t sure if he’s alone, he vocalizes with the same inflection you or I would make asking a question: “Anybody here?”

When I’m in the back yard, and he sees me from across the lawn, he has a loud call to get my attention. Sort of, “Hey, over here!” And shame on me if I don’t respond and go over to pat him on the head. 

But after reading about those talented cats at Stanford, I started to wonder why Rumpy seems so limited in his communication skills. Is his minimal vocabulary inherited? A schoolteacher friend tells me it’s because I didn’t read to him when he was young. Too much television, she says. Rumpy always liked to watch animal shows.

Anyway, back to my friends’ discussion. One of them asked if I ever noticed that cats don’t talk to each other. “It’s true,” she said. “They usually only meow at people. Communication between cats is mostly silent except maybe when they get in a fight. That’s when the screaming really starts and the fur flies.”

And for the most part, she’s right. If you watch cats together, you quickly see that most of their communication is a lot of visual appearance. There’s no need to talk. One cat can tell exactly what the other is thinking by his or her actions. Body language, some people call it. I call it tail-talk.

For example, imagine two cats entering a room at the same time. If one is happy to see the other, he might have his tail and ears both up … sort of, “Hi, how are you?” That’s a friendly greeting.

But if a cat feels threatened by another, his tail will be down, and his ears pinned to his head. “Stay away from me!”, is written all over his expressions. No need for verbal interaction. Body language says it all.

So why do cats “talk” to us? No one knows for sure, even after all this research. But I can think of at least one good reason. Pets try to mimic us. We talk to them. We don’t use body language in a way they can understand. We talk and they try to answer. Imitation. It’s the highest form of flattery.

I know that Rumpy would like to talk even more with me if he could. He tries all the time. His vocabulary might not be as large as those Stanford cats, but I think he does a pretty good job for a self-educated feline. I almost always know what’s on his mind.

So let’s get over to the barnyard and answer a farm-related question. And until next time, give your pets a hug. Rumpy’s calling me over to the couch. Time for us to take a nap.

Q: Our goats have knots on their chins, with no signs of stickers or wounds. These are big pockets of pus that keep coming back. We have been treating with antibiotics for some time with no luck. Any suggestions as to what to do?

A: Goats and sheep are susceptible to a particular ground-dwelling bacteria named Corynebacterium. This microorganism can cause persistent, recurring abscesses like those you describe. (Other, less-common bacteria might also be at the root of your problem, as well). In a lot of cases, antibiotics alone can’t completely eliminate the offensive bacteria. Often, these lesions need to be surgically opened (lanced) and flushed. This treatment effectively clears out the huge numbers of bacteria inside the lesion. Only then are antibiotics effective in eliminating the bacteria. I’ve seen a few difficult cases where the abscess needed to be surgically removed in toto. Aggresive surgery like this is usually only performed on the most difficult

cases. This can be a very nasty infection.

Because of the tenacity of some lesions, breeders with large herds sometimes cull susceptible animals out of their herd, rather than going through the effort and expense needed to treat this problem. Have a veterinarian familiar with goats examine yours and tell you what the best treatment would be.