The Night the Cat & The Dog Argued
A real-life story about conflict, communication, and the role of context.
Last night, Penelope was curled up on my husband’s lap when Hank hopped up onto the couch beside them. He was a little grumpy and started sniffing and nudging at her back paws—rude, pushy behaviour that told me he didn’t want her in “his” space. I was right beside Hank but distracted on my laptop.
Suddenly, Penelope let out a big meow—not pain, but pissed off. Dwayne blurted, “He just bit her!” then quickly, “She just bit his ear!” At the same time Hank jumped up, pacing and pushing at me, clearly in distress.
When something like this happens, it’s easy to get caught in our emotions and to look though a lens of“Hank bit her.” But what matters is peeling it back and looking at what actually happened behaviour by behaviour, objectively.
I asked Dwayne to check if P's paws were wet. He got a bit frustrated thinking I'm accusing him of lying and that I'm "taking Hank's side" and defending what he did.
But but my goal was simply to gather objective detail.
After talking it through together, we went from:
“Hank bit Penelope’s leg, then she bit his ear.”
To a clearer picture of what transpired:
Hank sniffed and nudged Penelope’s back leg.
He placed his open mouth over her paw.
Penelope meowed and gave him a hard stare.
When he didn’t move away, she grabbed his ear in her mouth.
Hank startled, spun, and pushed his head toward her—clear signs of distress.
Both of them used their mouths to communicate, but neither went over the top.
By taking the emotion and the assumptions out of it, we were able to look at what happened objectively. To focus on the behaviour we see, what's actually happening.
The Behaviour
This wasn’t “a bite” so much as a conversation over resources: space and safety. Hank didn’t her there, and Penelope didn’t want to be hassled for being there.
For Hank, using his teeth in this way is out of character. Around his food bowl, he’s actually very tolerant. Penelope will often stick her face right into his dish, and most of the time he simply freezes, stares. He might give a quiet growl until she backs off. Because mealtimes aren’t especially high-arousal for him, he’s more patient and controlled in that context.
In the dog room, though, the picture changes. When treats, enrichment toys, or training activities are involved—things he finds highly exciting—his arousal is much higher. Add in the social element of me being present, and the stakes feel bigger. In that environment, he’s more likely to snap or correct if Penelope presses too close.
And then there’s the couch. In close quarters, with me right beside him, the cues and pressure feel different again. He wants to rest, stretch out and be as comfortable as possible. Space is tighter, sharing feels more personal, and the added proximity to me can make the situation more charged.
Penelope, for her part, has used that ear-grab before in similar situations. It’s a strategic move: choosing a sensitive but safe body part from her perspective to send a blunt message—fuck. off. The difference this time was that Hank felt sharper teeth, which startled him into a stronger reaction.
This is why context is everything. The same dog—or cat—can respond calmly in one setting and escalate in another. By stepping back from the initial assumptions, I could see the bigger picture: not a single “bite,” but a chain of signals and choices shaped by environment, arousal levels, and the resources at stake
The Conclusion
The way I see it, this was simply an interaction between two species who both wanted access to the same resources: space and safety. What I liked was that no one overreacted. What I didn’t like was that they felt pushed far enough to use their mouths to make the point. Physical corrections are communication, but my job is to prevent things from escalating that far. I want to maintain a level of communication that doesn’t involve physical confrontation.
So what am I going to do about it?
Management always comes first. That means better supervision on the couch so I can step in before things build. Even something simple—like using a pillow barrier—can help everyone relax and avoid confrontation.
In some cases, management alone may be enough. Behaviour modification or training doesn’t always need to follow if we can consistently prevent the problem.
I’ve done counter-conditioning with Hank around food before, but that work was specific to upstairs and doesn’t transfer cleanly to the couch.
Yes, I could teach cues like “leave it” with Penelope, “off the couch,” or “go to bed.” But the truth is, those don’t feel necessary right now. I care more about Hank’s comfort and his ability to rest undisturbed than I do about layering in extra training. Sometimes the simplest solution—just preventing the conflict—is the right one.
Final Thought
Incidents like this are a good reminder that our pets are always communicating—even when it doesn’t look pretty. Context, arousal, and resources all shape how they respond in the moment. What might look like “a bite” can actually be a whole conversation, with signals and choices leading up to it.
If you live with more than one animal, the goal isn’t to eliminate conflict completely—it’s to manage situations so they don’t escalate, and to give each pet the space and support they need to feel safe. Sometimes that means training, but often it simply means prevention, awareness, and respect for what our animals are telling us.
