How to Understand Someone Who Barks, Snorts, Hisses, and Bites

“When I arrive in England, I speak to pets in English; in Latvia, in Latvian; in Germany, in German. Animals don’t understand language—they understand intonation and a person’s inner state”

Yuri Kuklachev

The hour you suddenly decide
To get yourself a furry guide—
A cat, a dog, a pig, a raccoon,
A baby hippo, baby loon—
Will change your life for good, full-time.

Each beast comes armed with character,
With quirks and moods and mental blur.
They couldn’t care who’s boss or chief,
Who owes respect, who plays the thief,
Who carried whom, and why, and where.

It’s foolish asking, “Why this scream?
What does this shouting even mean?”
If you want them to obey your plea,
To prick their ears attentively,
You must learn how beasts speak.

So grab a notebook, grab a pen,
Ten oil tankers full of zen,
And carefully observe and note,
Record each sound, each move, each quote—
Every twitch and every sign.

An animal’s language is deep and wide:
In every pose a truth may hide,
In sounds, in motion, in the face,
In scent—surprisingly—there’s space
For fragments of a secret prose.

No rushing in, no charging blind
Will help you crack this coded mind.
But watch a little, patiently—
Two years, or three at most, you’ll see:
Some sense will start to show.

Want quicker insight? Want to know
Why cats meow late at night below,
Why dogs begin their mournful song
When sleep has wrapped the world so long?
There’s a dictionary for that.

First, look closely at the tail—
Is it twitching? Does it flail?
Yes? In dogs it signals cheer,
In cats it means: beware, my dear—
Or doubt, or fury, or unrest.

Now shift your gaze onto the back,
This is sign number two to track.
If tension pulls the body tight,
The dog is charged with sheer delight—
And ready straight for mischief.

If the cat is arched like a bow,
If fur stands up in bristled row—
That’s fear, or warning, or attack,
A fight, revenge, a savage smack,
A very serious threat.

Now look the cat right at the ears.
If they’re pinned back—retreat, my dear.
Or bribe that fluffy ball of spite.
Proceed with caution. Or with treats.

Dogs, however, play it different:
When a pup pins down his ears,
He’s confessing deep devotion
Or remorse in pure emotion,
Bracing for what fate endears.

When a cat purrs like a tractor,
Nudges you and kneads your side—
That’s a sign of pure contentment.
Though, to ease his inner torment,
Cats will purr their blues aside.

Submission’s easy to detect,
Everyone should know the sign:
If the belly’s shown to you,
Scratch the ear—it’s safe and true.
No attack is on the line.

Ears held high on dogs or cats
Signal interest, clear and bright.
But a drooping tail, my friend,
Means all joy has met its end—
Only sorrow’s left in sight.

If the animal sits still and quiet,
Staring into vacant space,
With a focused, distant look—
That’s not wisdom, that’s not books:
Cognitive dissonance.

Cats and dogs are simple cases,
Well-researched, mapped, and known.
No crocodile’s burning passion,
No gorilla’s tender fashion—
They’re easy to talk to, on the whole.

Hippos? That’s a different breed.
Hard to read them, hard to know.
But one rule is verified:
If the mouth is open wide—
Run. Immediately. Go.

You can converse a bit with raccoons.
That one’s quite the philosopher:
Never wasting time on talk,
He just steals your stuff and walks,
Asking nothing, evermore.

To converse with such a beast,
Study carefully the bites.
There are only twenty kinds—
Practice them to train your mind,
And bite back with proper bite.

Don’t be quick to yell at skunks,
Courtesy is key here, friend.
They may not forgive the slight,
They may answer with their might—
And that power reeks no end.

Careful, too, with turtles slow:
They’re not always meek or shy.
Sometimes heads don’t tuck away,
Sometimes fingers pay the price—
Bold ones bitten, by and by.

Talking to a hamster’s easy:
He won’t bite without a cause.
Happy? Runs in endless rings.
Sad? He squeals at everything.
Conversation’s safe, because.

For a mouse—bring grain and seeds.
Willow branches charm a beaver.
Hay delights the humble ass…
Treat them first—and only then
Will they meet you halfway, eager.

Ostrich, elephant, newt, and fish,
Rabbit, rhino, bull, and more—
Even cockroaches, believe it,
All possess, though you may miss it,
Languages of their own.

Learning them is not so hard:
Open as a storybook,
Like a lantern in the fog,
Like a path through swampy bogs,
Like jazz rhythm in the heart.

Every beast has got a key—
Gentleness and patience paired.
Be attentive, plan, be wise,
Train your legs for sudden flights,
Drop all laziness, be prepared.

And then you’ll surely learn at last,
Without words, without a sound,
How their instincts twist and turn.
You’ll be Doctor Dolittle—
Still completely human-bound.