Maggie the Wonderbeagle knows:
Sit(often confused with speak)
Speak(often confused with sit)
Walk
Ride
Fish(given with her meds)
Drugs(given with her fish)
cookie
Lucrezia D. Hellcat knows:
@#!!*&^%!!!
Sam the mitred conure knows, “bed bed bed” and climbs back inside his cage. He also knows “apple” and goes batshit until you hand him a slice.
Max kitty knew what “ride” meant and would run to the apartment door. He was also versed in world culture. Who was the famous premier of Communist China, Max? “Mao,” he’d answer. 
Our cat, Lightning, knows what it means when we say “Snack.” He also knows the sound of a tuna can being opened (we use a different can opener for tuna, since you need to keep the lid on to drain it; he recognizes that one but not the one we usually use), the sound of his pill bottles being opened (he runs), the sound of the vacuum cleaner being rolled around (even before it’s turned on), and what his carrier is (he knows he’ll be taken to the vet). He also knows that if I turn him onto his back, I’m going to give him a pill.
My dear departed springer spaniel used to like to dig through our compost heap for tasty bits of rotting vegetables.
Of course, the best time for this is just after a fresh batch of rotting vegetables have been taken out. So, just as he would respond to “walk” or “out” or “milkbone,” he would respond to “compost” (as in “honey, can you please take the compost out?”)
He reacted the same way to “watermelon.”
We kept trying to tell him he was a carnivore, and that dogs don’t eat watermelon (especially the peel and the seeds, and especially with the gusto that he went at it with) but he didn’t believe us.
The two older cats, Marty and Scarlett know a lot. Cuervo barely understands the sound of his own purring, so we’ll exclude him today.
Both cats know the noise of their food container, but even more know the sound of the silverware drawer opening at dinnertime. That means spoon, and spoon=can food.
They both will stop whatever they’re doing and run away if they hear the hissing noise. You know the one, the loud “S” sound, like a giant snake? That’s usually the last chance before coropral punishment.
A little clicking noise of the top of my mouth means go to that person, for he will pet me behind the ears.
Marty knows first thing in the morning if he hears me call him with “Boo-time!”, that means he gets private time while I am a captive audience perched on the throne. I can go nowhere, so he gets exclusive petting. Boo, is his nickname, so yes it makes sense.
They’ve both learned since we moved into the new house, that the noise of the garage door opening means someone they know will be coming into the house any second now. And that the doorbell means strangers, so assume the hiding under the kitchen table posture.
One of my cats is incredibly smart, the other is…well, not so smart.
Emmy isn’t very bright, but she sure as heck knows the word ‘eat’. She knows ‘dinner’, ‘night-night’, ‘sleepytime’, and the strangest one - ‘Minty?’ - which we realized she was reacting to after an episode of EastEnders with a character named Minty. We still don’t know what she’s reacting to when we say ‘Minty?’ (and yes, you have to have the question mark on it), but she sure knows that word.
Oscar, on the other hand, is the smartest cat I’ve ever had or met - and everyone who meets him says the same thing. He gets treats, and has known the word ‘treat’ for years. Eventually, ElzaHub and I realized we needed to say something else when we discussed whether or not to give him one, so we started spelling the word out - ‘t-r-e-a-t’. Then Oscar figured out how to spell the word because every time we spelled it, he went nuts. So we started spelling it WRONG - ‘t-r-e-e-t’. Two weeks and he knew that one, too. So we started calling his treats ‘turtles’ about a month ago, and he’s just started to figure out what a ‘turtle’ is. We’re running out of ways to get around him.
He also knows ‘eat’, ‘Go see Daddy’, ‘bedtime’, ‘potty’ (we’ve told him to go potty before we go to the vet, and he listens), ‘grandma’, ‘grandpa’, ‘Go see Mommy’, ‘I’m gonna get you!’ (at which point, he starts running crazily around the house while I chase him), ‘toy’, ‘catnip’, and a whole host of other words. The boy basically knows what we’re saying at all times. He has very expressive eyes, and he will let you know that he’s quite interested in what you’ve got to say.
E.
Scooby and Molly are possibly the two dumbest dogs on the surface of the planet, but still somehow they’ve managed to learn their names, plus the following commands: sit, stay, lay down, give me your paw, want to go out? and “puppies!” which will call both of them (they are both over 100 lbs, so I don’t know of the word “puppies” really is appropriate any more but that’s what they know). They also know the meaning of the word “no!”, and know to come running to the front door whenever the door bell rings.
Dana is the oldest of our 2 cats. She knows her name. Maria (aka psycho kitty) doesn’t seem to know her name yet. Both cats will come running for “here kitty kitty kitty” which means food, and they both know the word “no” although they will often intentionally ignore it.
The guinea pig (Sheila) knows the sound of the fridge opening, and knows the sound of plastic bags, both of which are her cue for food. She’ll whistle loudly at either sound.
The fish and the birds don’t seem to know any commands yet.
My dogs know “bedtime” as well. They know “outside”
Also, they know “do you wanna go…” which is followed up by “to bed,” “outside,” “for a car ride,” or “for a walk.” (The look on my cocker spanial’s face is priceless when you say this"
The interesting things is “Did you do this?” If there’s a puddle on the floor or the garbage is strewn about, you can just say this. Which ever dog is responsible will run away, while if one of them is innocent, they’ll just look at you. We can always tell who does what."
they also bark at a doorbell, but only if it’s on TV, not if it’s really our doorbell.
Stupid dogs.
My cat respondes to her name and oddly enough, a high pitched whistle. She will usually come running downstairs if someone is down there because that’s where her food is kept.
Wonder-mutt Lucy knows puppy treat,** sit**, down, stay, speak, and UP! which means she is to jump wildly into the air. Bird Man says she knows her name and all her nicknames, but it’s pretty clear to me she just knows the tone of our voices when we are calling her. She also knows walk, Uncle Matty,** Gramma and Grampa**, “go ouside?” and the sound of her leash being picked up and reacts the same way to them all. She will hunt for a toy to play with if you ask her “Where’s your toy? Go get your toy!” She knows when mommy shuts off the alarm in the morning (not just hitting snooze) it’s time to get awake, and turning off the TV at night means it time to go to bed. Putting on shoes is a cause for much distress unless it’s accompanied by the leash. Telling her “Cage!” means it’s time to go to the cage, unless of course there’s someone at the door, then it means bark louder and run away from Mom so she can’t grab her and throw her in the cage.
Lucy and our boy cat Max know the sound of the lazer pointer being picked up. Even if I do it really quiet and don’t hear a noise, they still come running and then search the floor for the red dot. All the cats know their names, but only Pixel will come every time. Max and Dot will come when they decide it’s worth their time. But they all know they’re in trouble if we shout their name, and they all know they’re not in trouble if we shout someone else’s name. Dot will run into the bathroom and demand the tap be turned on whenever anyone goes near that area. They all come to the sound of the treats being shaken and me yelling “Ki-tteeess!” and Dot and Pixie will demand treats, while Max (who has not eaten a treat in his life and I think has no sense of smell) just comes along to be a part of the club.