Another Tech Company Wants To Translate Meows And Barks Using AI: Can It Work?

Cats and dogs communicate primarily by scent, touch and body language, but human efforts to understand them have focused exclusively on meows and barks. If we want to truly understand our non-human friends, we need to take an approach that considers the other ways animals “talk” to each other.

A few years ago when MeowTalk made a minor splash in the startup world, I was pretty bullish on its potential to help us understand our cats better.

Sure, the app had an unhelpful habit of attributing improbably loving declarations to Buddy, but I thought it would follow the trajectory of other machine learning models and drastically improve as it accumulated more data.

More users meant the app would record and analyze more meows, chirps and trills, meaning it was just a matter of time before the AI would be able to distinguish between an “I want attention!” meow and a “My bowl is dangerously close to empty!” meow.

Obviously that didn’t happen, and what I personally didn’t take into account back then — and should have, given how obvious it is in retrospect — is that cats don’t just communicate via vocalizations.

In fact, cats don’t normally incorporate vocalizations into communication at all. Pet kitties do it entirely for our benefit because they know we’re generally awful at interpreting body language and we are completely useless when it comes to olfactory information.

It’s actually amazing when you really think about how much of the heavy lifting cats do in our efforts to communicate with each other. They recognize we can’t communicate the way they do naturally, so they try to relate to us on our terms. In return, we meet them less than halfway.

No wonder Buddy sometimes looks frustrated as he meows at me, as if I’m the biggest moron in the world for not understanding the very obvious thing he’s trying to tell me.

“Human, how can you not understand the simple feeling of innerer schweinehund I’m trying to convey here? The cringe is killing me!”

Now the Chinese tech giant Baidu is throwing its hat into the ring after filing a patent in China for an AI system that uses machine learning to decode animal communication and “translate” it to human language.

Machines are designed to process things from a human viewpoint according to human logic, so if Baidu wants to succeed where MeowTalk has not, its engineers will need to take a thoughtful approach with the help of animal behavior experts.

This is a hard problem that encompasses animal cognition, neuroscience, linguistics, biology, biochemistry and even philosophy. If they approach this strictly as a tech challenge, they’ll set themselves up for failure.

Without the information and context clues provided by tails, whiskers, facial expressions, posture, eye dilation, heart rate, pheromones and even fur, an AI system is only getting a fraction of the information cats are trying to convey.

Trying to glean meaning from that is like trying to read a book in which only every fourth or fifth letter is legible. There’s just too much missing information.

Even if we can train machines to analyze sound visual, tactile and olfactory information, it may not be possible to truly translate what our cats are saying to us. We may have to settle for approximations. We’ve only begun to guess at how the world is interpreted differently among human beings thanks to things like qualia and neurodivergence, and the way cats and dogs see the world is undoubtedly more strange to us than the way a neurodivergent person might make sense of reality.

“He grimaced. He had drawn a greedy old character, a tough old male whose mind was full of slobbering thoughts of food, veritable oceans full of half-spoiled fish. Father Moontree had once said that he burped cod liver oil for weeks after drawing that particular glutton, so strongly had the telepathic image of fish impressed itself upon his mind. Yet the glutton was a glutton for danger as well as for fish. He had killed sixty-three Dragons, more than any other Partner in the service, and was quite literally worth his weight in gold.” – Cordwainer Smith, The Game of Rat and Dragon

An animal’s interpretation of reality may be so psychologically alien that most of its communication may be apples to oranges at best. Which is why I always loved Cordwainer Smith’s description of the feline mind as experienced via a technology that allows humans with special talents to share thoughts with cats in his classic short story, The Game of Rat and Dragon.

In the story, humans are a starfaring civilization and encounter a threat in the void between stars that people don’t have the reaction speed to deal with. Cats, however, are fast and swift enough, and with a neural bridge device, teams of humans paired with cats are able to keep passengers safe on interstellar journeys.

The narrator, who is one of the few people with an affinity for teaming up with felines, hopes he’ll be paired with one of his two favorite cats for his latest mission, but instead he’s assigned to partner with an old glutton of a tomcat whose mind was dominated by “slobbering thoughts of food, veritable oceans of half-spoiled fish.”

The narrator wryly notes that the last time one of his colleagues was paired with that particular cat, his burps tasted of fish for weeks afterward. But the cat in question, despite being obsessed with fish, is a badass at killing “dragons,” the human nickname for the bizarre entities that attack human ships in space. (The software that allows felines and humans to link thoughts also portrays the “dragons” as rodents in the minds of the cats, stimulating their ancient predatory drive so they’ll attack instantly when they see the enemy.)

We can’t know for sure if Smith’s interpretation of the feline mind is accurate, but another part rang true when he wrote that cat thoughts were all about the moment, filled with sentiments of warmth and affection, while they rapidly lost interest in thoughts about human concerns, dismissing them “as so much rubbish.”

If the mind of a cat is that relatable, we’ll be incredibly lucky. But in reality we’re dealing with animals who evolved in drastically different ecological niches, with different priorities, motivations, and ways of looking at the world — literally and figuratively.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to understand our furry friends. Research has yielded interesting information about the way animals like whales and elephants communicate, and AI is at its best when it augments human creativity and curiosity instead of trying to replace it.

Even if we don’t end up with a way to glean 1:1 translations, the prospect of improving our understanding of animal minds is tantalizing enough. We just need to make sure we’re listening to everything they’re saying, not just the meows.

Point/Counterpoint: ‘You Don’t Tell Me When To Sleep, Human!’ vs ‘A Consistent Bedtime Is Important!’

Buddy the Cat argues that a consistent bedtime is key to feeling good and healthy, while Buddy the Cat counters that stupid humans don’t tell him when to sleep, HE decides. Who’s right, Buddy or Buddy?

A Consistent Bedtime Is Important

What are you doing, human? It’s bedtime! Mow mow! You’re supposed to be in this bed and laying down so I can use your face as a pillow, drape myself across you, or burrow comfortably against your side to soak up body heat.

What am I supposed to do without a human sleeping substrate? How can any cat be expected to sleep like this? I know you claim there are so called “stray cats” who don’t have humans, but that is preposterous and I don’t believe it.

Let’s go! I read an article saying it’s very important to have a regular sleep schedule. Well, actually, I just saw the headline, but I got the gist of it, which is that you have to go to bed right meow!

You Don’t Tell Me When To Sleep, Human!

Sleep? Now? That’s ridiculous.

No, I have shadows to chase, toys to kick around and I really wanted to get into redecorating things around here, because they’re looking a little too orderly for my tastes.

Go ahead, go to bed. In a few minutes I’ll cry outside the bedroom door until you get out of bed and open it, then I’ll decide I don’t want to go in after all. I’ll do that two, maybe three more times just because I can.

Oh, you thought I was settling in? Nah. I have a bowl of water to splash all over the place, then I’ll cry until you get up again and refill it, and when you get back into bed for the fifth or sixth time, I’ll cry incessantly again because my dry food bowl is empty, meaning there’s plenty of food but it’s all pushed up to the sides.

Do not forget our pre-slumber ritual! You have to scratch my chin while I purr and you tell me what a good boy I am. Then you have to scratch the top of my head while I purr and you tell me what a good boy I am.

After that, maybe I’ll sleep. We’ll see.

Dear Buddy: Why Should Us Cats Stay Indoors?

Buddy claims he’s a tiguar, not a domestic cat, and says allowing him outside is tantamount to Queen Daenerys allowing her dragons to roam the countryside in Game of Thrones.

Dear Buddy,

Dude. Everyone’s getting so uptight lately about making sure we stay inside. We’re predators! We should be running our neighborhoods, but no, our humans want to “protect” us.

As a famously fierce and ripped feline, what’s your take?

Frustrated in Fallbsurg

Dear Frustrated,

I empathize with you, I really do, but the way it was explained to me is that I’m a terrifying cat with huge meowscles, and by keeping me indoors, my human is protecting dogs, humans and other lower life forms from my potential wrath.

“Do they let tigers and jaguars run around New York?” Big Buddy asked me.

“Uh, no, I guess they don’t,” I said.

“Of course not. And that’s exactly why we can’t have you roaming the neighborhood. Think of the quandary Daenerys Targaryen had in Game of Thrones when her dragons were feasting on livestock from the farms of her subjects!”

And he’s right. A Buddy on the loose would cause all sorts of panic and other problems. I don’t want to be responsible for what happens when a bunch of humans freak out and go recklessly running in every direction, terrified I’m going to catch them.

If it takes sacrifice on my part to keep people comfortable, then I’m willing to endure the hardship of living indoors with a servant who heeds my every beck and call. It’s just the honorable thing to do.

Your friend,
Buddy

Buddy the Tiguar


Dear Buddy,

Hey, pal! How have you been?

Friendly in Florida

Hey Friendly,

I’ve been handsome, how have you been?

Buddy


Dear Buddy,

You’re not a tiger! Or a jaguar! You’re a chubby, sedentary, spoiled house cat with an enabler of a human who encourages your delusions of being a powerful big cat!

Just stop already, it’s embarrassing!

Cringing In Connecticut

Dear Cringing,

First of all, I am a tiger/jaguar, or a tiguar if you will. I just haven’t hit my growth spurt yet. My human assures me it’s gonna happen.

I also asked my human if it’s true that he’s “an enabler” who encourages my supposed delusions. His response: “That’s absurd. Who’s a big, bad cat? You are, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”

So obviously you’re a hater and soon you’ll see me prowling the jungle with David Attenborough talking about how dangerous I am! Just wait!

Buddy the Badass

Little Buddy Demands Due Regard On National Respect Your Cat Day

Your feline overlord(s) want you to show more respect, human! What special things are you doing for them today?

Little Buddy has informed me that today is National Respect Your Cat Day.

Sounds made up, doesn’t it?

At first I was sure it was, just like the times he told me it was International Buy 100 Toys For Your Cat Day, and the 82nd Annual Feed Your Cat A Ridiculous Amount of Snacks Day.

But apparently it’s real, and Buddy made a big show of declaring its importance, dressing up as a judge with a black robe and gavel to emphasize his point.

“The court rules, inter aloha, that defendant subway sandwiches judice is mens rea when it comes to the ad hoc crime of not feeding me enough snacks! The court has concluded the accused has not met de minimus standards for snackis maximis deliciousness, therefore stare decesis!”

He cleared his throat.

“In plain meows, that means you must feed me more of those crunchy ball things, and a lot more of those decadently delicious soft treats so bursting with turkalicious flavor! And, uh, you have to apologize for not appreciating me enough!”

“It’s is the court’s opinion that you cook me a steak dinner!”

The feline shuffled his papers, adjusted his robe and began reading again.

“The court finds that Buddy the Cat has been a loyal, handsome, and handsomely loyal companion to the accused, and has enriched his life by simply being delightful, and also by purring contentedly, napping on him, helping him eat cheese, keeping his scooping skills sharp, and enhancing all aspects of his life through pure magnetic charm,” he said. “Respect me and my authoritah!”

So tonight Buddy will get plenty of yums, some catnip, extra play time, and I’ll tell him he’s looking particularly dapper today.

As for those of you reading this, better plan something before word gets out…or face your cat’s wrath when they find out it was Respect Your Cat Day and you did nothing!

Terrified By Reports Of Bird Flu, Buddy Appoints His Human As Food Taster

“If you keel over and die, I’ll know not to eat the food,” Buddy told his human.

NEW YORK — Driven to paranoia by reports of spreading bird flu, Buddy the Cat has appointed his human as his food taster, sources confirmed.

The decision was made on Friday after the self-described “brave and fearless” tabby cat heard a news report about new cases of bird flu, including a cluster of the deadly virus in several cats in Hunterdon County, New Jersey, only 60 miles from Casa de Buddy.

Little Buddy made the act official, naming his human as “praegustator,” a title borne by imperial food tasters of ancient Rome.

“Your lunch, Your Meowjesty,” Buddy’s human, Big Buddy, said as he placed a bowl of chicken pate and fresh water before the feline.

Buddy looked at his human.

“What?” Big Buddy asked. “You want me to eat it for you, too?”

Big Buddy chuckled, but Little Buddy remained stone-faced.

“As a meowter of fact, I do,” the feline said. “Dig in.”

Big Buddy made a disgusted face.

“I’m not eating that, that’s your food, little dude,” he said. “What’s gotten into you?”

Buddy chuffed derisively.

“Bird flu, that’s what!” he said. “If you keel over and die, I’ll know there’s bird flu in the food!”

“Taste my food, human!”

The human rolled his eyes.

“If I die, who feeds you? Who gets your claws unstuck from the door screen, rubs your head and tells you what a brave little guy you are? Who serves as your human pillow? Who gives you scritches while you purr and tells you about your website, and how many people all over the world love you?”

Buddy’s satellite dish ears twitched.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “But I’m still not eating that until I know it’s safe!”

Big Buddy picked up the bowl.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m sure Smudge next door will be thrilled with another meal.”

Buddy’s eyes went wide.

“Do not give my food to that…that scoundrel!” he meowed indignantly.

Big Buddy sighed. “Then we’re back to square one.”

“Yes,” Little Buddy said. “Now eat the food, human!”

Top image: Food tasters at the Feast of Bartolomeo Colleoni in honor of Christian I of Denmark, 1467/ Wikimedia Commons