Cross-species communication fascinates me…
Many of you know I’m an animal lover, especially when it comes to bull terriers, possums, crows, ravens, and most of all, cats. It amazes me how capable animals are of communicating with humans—often in ways that are far from subtle.
For the last 10 years, I’ve had a very close bond with Gwaihir, my Egyptian Mau, a fairly rare breed of cat. We spend a lot of time together, both at home and at our cabin. He’s not only excellent company but also a surprisingly good listener.
Over the years, Gwaihir and I have developed a remarkable level of understanding. I’ve learned that he needs a reliable routine to feel safe and secure. This insight came after a stressful period when he began pathologically overgrooming.
Instead of grooming his entire coat, he started obsessively washing certain areas to the point of creating lesions. At first, it seemed like a minor issue, but it quickly became a serious problem. The raw spots he created were painful and impossible for him to ignore, which only made them worse.
We tried everything: anti-inflammatory injections, UV laser treatments, full-body cat suits (which he escaped from like a feline Houdini), and every kind of bandage you can imagine. The expenses mounted, and we found ourselves watching him around the clock during the healing process to make sure he didn’t undo his progress.
Eventually, I realized the overgrooming wasn’t the problem—it was a symptom. He was stressed, and overgrooming was his way of self-soothing.
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But what was stressing him out?
He had premium food, a loving family that doted on him, and all the napping places a cat could possibly want. It didn’t make sense at first. Then we uncovered the surprising truth: his stress came from disruptions to his routine.
Gwaihir has a precise daily schedule. He wakes up at 6 a.m., howls downstairs, and expects his breakfast by 6:30. After eating, he lounges in front of the fireplace until he’s ready for the door to be opened so he can sit behind the screen and sniff the air, taking stock of who’s in the neighborhood. Then it’s back to the hearth for warmth.
At some point, he’ll meow at me, signaling that it’s time for his spa treatment—a brushing session to remove excess fur and soothe his cat brain. Afterward, he naps on the couch until exactly noon, when he expects his next meal. And so it goes, like clockwork.
Once I figured out that I needed to align with his routine instead of my own, the pathological grooming stopped. Now, Gwaihir communicates with me in more playful ways—whether it’s telling me to vacate my warm chair so he can claim it or climbing onto my lap while I’m reading or working.
Sometimes, he looks me right in the eyes, and I can feel his love. I give him a slow blink, and he always responds in kind.
Lately, I’ve been forging a similar connection with a gray squirrel who visits every day with about a dozen of his friends. He’s a funny-looking little guy with a short tail, likely the result of an injury in his younger days.
A few weeks ago, I started giving him a peanut before his friends got theirs. Now he’s responding with curiosity and trust, coming closer each time. He even sits upright and lifts his little paws like he’s begging.
There’s no doubt we’re communicating, sending and receiving signals just as Gwaihir and I do.
So why am I telling you all this?
Because humans, like animals, are constantly sending signals—through tone of voice, body language, unfinished sentences, or even the absence of attention. The question is, are we paying attention to those signals?
I’ve often discussed this with my friends in law enforcement, especially back when I provided police training. When the media reports on a “quiet man” who turns out to be a serial killer, neighbors always claim there were no warning signs, and no-one could have seen it coming...
But is that really true?
Security experts like Gavin de Becker and my friend Alan Bell argue that the signs are always there. The problem is that people often fail to notice them.
The same is true in relationships. A good friend of mine once ignored his wife’s subtle signs of unhappiness. By the time he realized what was happening, she’d already found someone else and left him.
Signals are always there if we’re willing to notice them. By learning to calibrate to subtle behavioral changes, we can sharpen our ability to pick up on these clues—whether they’re coming from people, cats, or even squirrels.
Learn to pay attention to other people’s external behaviour.
Then you’ll be able to notice if things change…
- Mike Mandel
