Why Is My Animal Companion Suddenly Acting Differently?

If you live with animals long enough, eventually one of them is going to do something that makes you stop and say:

What the heck are you doing?

Maybe your dog suddenly starts following you everywhere.

Your cat begins yelling at three o'clock in the afternoon.

Your horse refuses to go somewhere they've gone a hundred times before.

Someone starts sleeping in a strange place.

Someone starts pestering another member of the family.

Or, in Cuda's case, someone pees in your suitcase and eventually escalates to peeing on your head.

Animals have ways of getting our attention.

Some are more diplomatic than others.

And while a sudden change in behavior should always make us consider physical or medical causes first, sometimes behavior is also communication.

The question I like to ask is not only:

How do I get them to stop doing this?

But also:

What are they trying to tell me?

Sometimes the Answer Is Really, Really Obvious

Years ago, when my children were young, we didn't have a cat.

Then my father-in-law passed away, and his elderly cat, Kiora, came to live with us.

Every afternoon, Kiora would start meowing.

Loudly.

Very loudly.

My husband would look at her and say:

“What the heck is wrong with that cat?”

And I would look at him like he was the crazy one.

She's hungry.

She's telling you she's hungry.

Why don't you get that?

I wasn't an animal communicator then.

I didn't know anything about telepathic animal communication.

I was simply paying attention to the cat.

Kiora had a need.

Kiora communicated the need.

Kiora apparently felt that the humans required the volume turned up before the message would be properly received.

Honestly, fair.

Sometimes our animals aren't being mysterious at all.

We just aren't listening in the language they're using.

Behavior Is a Language

Animals communicate constantly.

With their bodies.

Their eyes.

Their movement.

Their energy.

Their voices.

Their habits.

And yes, sometimes by doing something so bizarre that we cannot possibly ignore them.

Behavior is information.

That doesn't mean every unwanted behavior contains a profound spiritual message.

Sometimes a cat yelling in the kitchen is just saying:

Feed me.

But other times, a behavior may be expressing a need that isn't nearly as obvious.

Jubee Apparently Needed a Dog

At one point, Jubee started getting absolutely crazy with my husband.

She wanted to wrestle.

Play.

Pester him.

Engage with him constantly.

She was treating him less like my husband and more like...

a puppy.

And eventually the message became clear.

Jubee wanted a canine playmate.

She wanted another dog.

Specifically, she wanted someone she could interact with in a way that my husband—despite his many fine qualities—could not quite replicate.

Enter Chonkie.

Suddenly her behavior made a lot more sense.

She wasn't trying to drive my husband crazy.

She was trying to meet a need.

And because there wasn't another dog available, apparently she looked around the house and thought:

You'll do.

Poor man had unknowingly been promoted to temporary puppy.

Before You Correct the Behavior, Get Curious About It

This is where I think we humans can sometimes move a little too quickly.

Something changes and immediately we want to fix it.

Stop barking.

Stop pacing.

Stop scratching.

Stop following me.

Stop bothering him.

Stop sitting there.

Stop doing whatever weird thing you're currently doing.

But what if, before jumping straight to stop, we asked:

Why?

What changed?

When did this start?

What happened around the same time?

Is there something different in the household?

Has someone left?

Has someone arrived?

Has a routine changed?

Is another animal behaving differently?

Could there be pain or discomfort?

Could there be fear?

Grief?

Boredom?

Confusion?

Or a need we're simply not recognizing?

Curiosity can take us somewhere correction never will.

Sometimes They're Reacting to Something We Changed

My pug Cuda taught me this beautifully.

When I traveled constantly for work, she started peeing in my suitcase.

And when I made the suitcase unavailable?

She peed on my head.

Message received, Cuda.

Eventually I realized she wasn't simply being “bad.”

She didn't understand why I kept disappearing.

Once I started telling her several days ahead of time that I was leaving and explaining how many night-times I'd be gone, the behavior stopped.

She didn't need punishment.

She needed information.

I've written more about that story elsewhere because Cuda deserves her own chapter in the history of creative canine protest.

But it permanently changed how I look at behavior.

Sometimes the thing our animal is doing makes complete sense once we understand what the world looks like from their side of the relationship.

Sometimes They May Be Carrying Something Emotional

Behavior can also be connected to an animal's emotional experience.

That became very clear to me with Jubee in another way.

I've written before about finding her sitting quietly in front of the kitchen sink looking deeply sad.

Nothing dramatic was happening.

She was simply sitting there.

But something about her told me there was more going on.

Those are the moments I pay attention to.

Because behavior doesn't have to be disruptive to be communication.

Sometimes it's a sudden stillness.

A different expression.

A change in where they sleep.

A reluctance that wasn't there yesterday.

A feeling that something is just...

off.

If you know your animal well, you know that feeling.

You may not know what it means yet.

But you notice.

And noticing is where communication begins.

Please Rule Out Medical Causes

This part matters.

If your animal suddenly changes behavior—especially around eating, drinking, elimination, sleep, mobility, aggression, hiding, vocalizing, or anything else concerning—please consider a veterinary evaluation.

Animal communication does not replace veterinary medicine.

I would never want someone to assume:

My dog is limping because he's emotionally processing something.

Maybe.

Or maybe his foot hurts.

Let's check the foot.

We don't have to choose between physical and emotional information.

Both can matter.

Animal communication can add another layer of understanding, but it shouldn't be used to avoid appropriate medical care or professional behavioral support.

You Know Your Animal Better Than You Think

Long before I became an animal communicator, I was already listening to animals.

I just didn't call it that.

I knew Kiora was saying she was hungry.

I knew something was happening with Cuda.

I could look at one of my animals and think:

Something isn't right.

Most people who love animals do this.

You learn their rhythms.

Their expressions.

Their moods.

You know the difference between:

I would like a snack.

and

I have not eaten in at least fourteen minutes and clearly no one in this house cares whether I live or die.

Very different face.

We sometimes dismiss this knowing because we can't explain how we know it.

But relationship creates familiarity.

You notice things.

And I think we should give ourselves more credit for that.

Ask a Different Question

The next time your animal suddenly starts doing something unusual, try moving beyond:

How do I stop this?

Ask instead:

What changed?

What might they need?

What does this behavior accomplish for them?

What might they be feeling?

And maybe even:

What are you trying to tell me?

Then get quiet for a moment.

You may not receive a booming telepathic answer.

Probably better if you don't. That sounds exhausting.

But you may notice something.

An idea.

A connection you hadn't made.

A feeling.

A memory of when the behavior began.

Sometimes understanding arrives very quietly.

This Is What I Learned

Kiora taught me that sometimes our animals are communicating perfectly clearly and we're the ones making it complicated.

Jubee taught me that strange behavior can point toward an unmet need.

Cuda taught me that what looks like “bad behavior” can make perfect sense once we understand the animal's experience.

And all of them taught me to ask one more question before deciding I know what's going on.

Why?

Not:

Why are you doing this to me?

Although admittedly, after someone pees on your head, you're allowed that question first.

But then:

What are you telling me?

Because behavior isn't happening in a vacuum.

It has context.

It has a history.

Sometimes it has emotion behind it.

Sometimes it has a physical cause.

Sometimes it contains a request.

And sometimes your elderly cat is simply standing in the kitchen screaming:

Lady. Food. Now.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.