My little sister, Bubs, is mischievous. But she’s also has a very big heart. When she was about 13, she started secretly leaving out milk for a stray cat who roamed the village. Mum wondered why this mewing cat, nicknamed Mrs. Tiddles, kept showing up at her front door, but, being a fairly clued-in parent, she soon figured out what was happening. Only when she learned that her antique bone china saucers were being used was she annoyed. But there’s something about naughty Bubs, you just can’t be cross with her for long… Besides, the cat was a pretty little thing, her daintiness offset by the the slightly dishevelled air of someone wearing long white socks, one pulled up and the other in puddles around the ankle. Or a black cat who playfully batted a spilt pot of white paint and tried to lick it off her leg. She’s like Dinah, the cheeky kitten in Alice in Wonderland. No wonder Bubs fell in love. It wasn’t long afterwards that Mrs. Tiddles became a member of the family, sporting a bright pink diamanté collar with a tiny bell.
One afternoon, as Mum and I were sipping tea, Tiddles looked up at her and stretched and blinked in Mum’s direction. When Banjo does this to us, it’s usually because he’s hoping for something — either to be given attention or, more commonly, to be taken outside. Tiddles didn’t seem hopeful for anything, so I asked Mum what this slow blink meant. “It’s a sign of affection”, she beamed.
If people are divided into cat-people and dog-people, our family has always belonged to the latter camp — and the bigger the dog, the better. When Mum allowed “TiddleCat” into the home (and so soon after Tariq, her golden Lab and canine love of her life, died) I had assumed it was for big-hearted Bubs.
But here she was, clearly basking in the adoration of this feline gaze, and at that moment I knew it was love.
Then she said, “Did you know that our question mark and exclamation mark symbols come from Egyptian hieroglyphics, which are based on the tail and anus of a cat?”
I sputtered and chortled.
“No,” she continued, very seriously, “when a cat is curious, its tail swishes and flicks from side to side, and when it’s angry its tail stands straight up in fury… Just like ? and !” Her index finger traced both symbols in the air, jabbing the space below to emphasise the dot.
Who knew?
Since then I’ve learned a little bit about cat body language. I’ve had to: there’s an orange cat that comes into our yard. Since Banjo has only ever met two cats (the first was wary; and the second hissed and frothed and spat at him like a thing possessed) I felt I ought supervise Lefty’s visits. I soon found out that such monitoring wasn’t necessary. Lefty lives next door with at least two canine siblings and is quite confident around dogs.
Luckily for her, in spite of his Greyhound and German Shepherd genes, Banjo neither wishes to chase and pounce Lefty, nor terrorise and eat her. Nor is he remotely interested in the birds Lefty preys on, but will instead watch her, puzzled. Nope, in spite of all his barkiness, Banjo is a bit like a canine version of Ferdinand the Bull: all he wants to do is sniff that cat’s arse.
Depending on Lefty’s mood, this desire is met with one of two scenarios: 1) the resignation of a frigid Victorian (Oh, must you? *Sigh* Alright, dear, get it over with…); or, 2) the sassiness of today’s modern, assertive Lil’ Ms. Kitt’n (Paws off, pal!).
In the first scenario, a dance ensues: Banjo timidly circling Lefty, blinking, lowering his head, saying everything he can in Doggish to show he is no threat. After a few circles, Banjo’s truffle nose will get a good whiff before being flicked away by the swish of an orange tail.
But so as men are from Mars and women from Venus, so do dogs and cats also speak different languages: Banjo’s submissive circling unfortunately means, I’m about to pounce, yo! in Cattish. If he gets too close too soon, the second scenario plays out, and he’s left staring at the almighty fanged and hissing cavern that is Lefty’s mouth.
The first time this happened, he also got a little punch on the nose from an angry orange paw. Luckily, no claws were involved, but he’s never forgotten the shock, poor lamb, and now hurriedly backs off whenever he hears a hiss…
Since the above photo was taken, Banjo and Lefty have worked things out. Banjo has learned the words ‘cat’ and ‘Lefty’, and will scramble to the backyard door if he hears either of these words. Although he hasn’t figured out that cats probably don’t appreciate his joyful barks, I’m pleased to report that they happily share the yard with each other.
Now ain’t that a metaphor for world peace?
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