For Keith De Candido

Ailurin is not a spoken language, or not simply spoken. Like all the human languages, it has a physical component, the cat version of “body language,” and a surprising amount of information is passed through the physical component before a need for vocalized words arises.

Even people who haven’t studied cats closely will recognize certain “words” in Ailurin: the rub against a friendly leg, the arched back and fluffed fur of a frightened cat, the crouch and stare of the hunter. All of these have strictly physical antecedents and uses, but they are also used by cats for straight forward communication of mood or intent. Many subtler signs can be seen by even a human student: the sideways flirt of the tail that says “I don’t care” or “I wonder if I can get away with this…” the elaborate yawn in another cat’s face, the stiff-legged, arch-backed bounce, which is the cat equivalent of making a face and jumping out at someone, shouting “Boo!” But where gestures run out, words are used—more involved than the growl of threat of purr of contentment, which are all most humans hear of intercat communication.

“Meowing” is not counted here, since cats rarely seem to meow at each other. That type of vocalization is usually a “pidgin” language used for