If my pets would talk, Spike would have to get a job to pay us back for all the rolls of toilet paper he ruined. He could do kitty litter commercials, he’s cute enough. And neither of them would be allowed to be in our room for Grownup Funtime. Unlike now, when King Xander can get away with laying unnoticed on top of the laundry pile until it’s too late.
Well first I’d stop calling Tara fat and stupid. I don’t want her to have issues. Well, more issues than she already has. And then I’d tell Willow that she doesn’t need to talk to us constantly, and I will pet her if she wants me to—she doesn’t have headbutt me and bite me to get my attention. I’d also tell Tara that my husband is my husband, and she doesn’t have the first claim on him.
Well first, I would make sure to increase the frequency of my “Don’t be evil” sessions. When a cat has taken on the name Gozer this is very important.
Second, I will explain that I understand cats are natural hunters, drawn to attacking small furry quick moving objects. But that’s your tail, it’s attached to your butt, and self-cannibalism is almost never a good idea.
Finally, if he got the ability to talk back, I’d try to find out exactly what he’s trying to do when he tears at 99% light speed back and forth through the hallway.
"I don’t care what’s hard-wired into your genes, telling you that you’re at the bottom of the food chain. We do NOT eat pets in this household, and we have no plans on sending you anywhere that does. So PLEASE stop running in terror whenever we reach into the cage to feed you or (gasp) attempt to pet you.
Oh, and bathroom habits: Other people’s pets learn to potty in specific locations. You - well, every time I clean the cage, within 4 hours that nice fresh litter has a poop approximately every 2 square centimeters. That really can’t be nice to run around in. Now, I can’t clean the entire cage every day… but if you’d just PLEASE consider using a single corner, I could clean that corner every day. And if you’d consider being trainable, you might get sprung to run free around the living room every now and then. But til you learn that, you won’t get much floor time!"
Yes, we have guinea pigs. Their sole trick is that they’ve learned to recognize the sound of plastic bags rustling, and have concluded that this always means VEGGIES, and wheek cutely for treats. I don’t think their 12 brain cells can handle much more than that 
First, I’d have to stop calling Jake “puddin’ass” when he’s sticking that ass in my face or lying at the screen door desperately hoping for a leaf to land in front of it.
Scout would be asked for an explanation of why she wants so desperately to be petted, but won’t stay anywhere near me once I start.
Both would have to explain why the shortest distance between any two points in the apartment at 3AM is across my sleeping body, even when they are going across the living room, not the bedroom.
And Jake would be taught how to cover his poop in the litterbox.
Beyond that, I’d continue to tell them how good they are at being cats. They are exceptionally good at looking cute and at play fighting. Oh, and that sleeping thing. That’s what they’re best at.
Well dogs (5) you have all day and 22+ acres to wrestle and play. 3 am in the living room isn’t cute or funny. The water bowl is for DRINKING, not a toy to be flung around the room. You see that makes a big ass mess that you don’t seem to want to clean up. I know you were all abandoned by previous people but there is a big bag of food there and the store has even more. Really. And to the latest addition Tweak (yes of South Park fame) ease up on the caffeine girl. You make me tired just watching you. By the way you are a GIRL. You don’t have a penis. QUIT HUMPING EVERYTHING.
I’d be really happy if my cats would just go get me a glass of water when I ask them to. I ask them all the time. It usually works, however, because then my husband will go get me one!
I’d tell Poopy to stop drinking out of the floating candle holders, and that his name really isn’t “Focker.”
I’d tell Pants that it’s okay that he’s gay, we love him no matter what. I’d also make him understand that the “Mama can’t catch me” game isn’t fun during tornado warnings.
I’d tell Buggy that he really will survive if the food and water dishes aren’t full to capacity all the time, and that they don’t get filled any faster if you lie next to them and cry.
My kits and I communicate fairly well already.
I guess the only thing I’d like to get across would be to my pudgy yellow tabby- You know, as long as you live with me there will be a constant supply of food. You don’t have to keep testing everything in the house to see if it’s tasty or not. I’d like to leave a loaf of bread on the counter and still have it there the next morning. And really, no one needs to be eating rubber bands or dead tree leaves. I promise I will feed you every single day, so knock it off.
You mean they don’t!? :eek: No, they do, they understand every word. They even talk back, however I don’t understand them!
I would carefully explain that the next time she shat on the floor, I was going to drop-kick her. (It’s just like the Humane Society says – there’s no point in drop-kicking them unless they know why you’re doing it.) I’d also tell her to stop sticking her ass in my face when I’m lying on the couch.
Corky: You are a very active and intelligent female of a very active and intelligent breed. I know this. I also know that Corgis are herding dogs by nature, and that I must look like a huge wildebeest when I first wake up. I assure you, I am not, and I would enjoy it if you’d stop trying to herd me. Licking my feet in that pointed way just makes me more likely to trip over you. Oh, and play nice with Scooter. You don’t need to constantly dominate him and make him feel any slower or stupider than he already is.
Scooter: There’s nothing out there. Nothing! Your incessant grumbling about nonspecific but imminent threats has made me compare you to Rumsfeld, and that is not a compliment. On the rare occassions when you do see something, it’s one of our cats and, therefore, is no threat to anyone but the occasional rodent or bird. And, for a Corgi, you are remarkably inactive, even for a male. You’re overweight, actually, and you need to exercise. Chase the frisbee and playfight with Corky more often, wouldja?
Cinder: You are one of the most bizarre felines I’ve ever known. Contrary to your hopes, I do not have functional teats anywhere on my body. Such equipment is only rarely issued to males. So if you’d stop sucking on every inch of exposed skin every time it gets close, I’d be obliged. And you’re a longhair, meaning you should probably groom more often. Big matts of hair are not attractive, and make you look like a deranged bag lady. I keep wondering when you’ll acquire a shopping cart.
Maybelline: You’re half-wild and I love you for it, but do you have to be completely psychotic? Presenting me with your furry cat belly and then clawing at my hand when it gets near is not a good way to win friends. Turning from a purring kitty into a spiky ball of growling fluff while I’m holding you is also not recommended. And when it gets cold, come to our house and not the neighbor’s barn. We love you and want to know where you are.
First, I would explain to Buster that I’m not a puppy (neither is he, but I don’t want to disillusion him of that notion). If he wants to play, we’re going to have to come to some sort of understanding.
Me: “See this thing? It’s called a ‘ball’.”
"Say it with me --‘Ball’.’
Buster: “Ball.”
Me: “Good. Now watch closely, because I’m going to throw it.”
[Throws ball.]
Buster: [Chases after the ball, stops when the ball ceases to move and trots eagerly back to me.]
“Wow! That was amazing! Do it again!”
Me: “You’re supposed to chase the ball and bring it back.”
Buster: “Bring back? What is this thing called ‘bring back’?”
Me: “Never mind.”
Buster seems talented and smart in many ways, but there just seem to be some concepts that are foreign to his understanding.
I think he really understands most of the important stuff.
–SSgtBaloo
My legions upon legions of rabid squirrels ALREADY understand every word I say. They only await my “Ulitmate Command of Total Destruction” and then they shall reign utter Annihilation upon the face of the earth and smite every living soul into complete oblivion.
:o So… now what were we discussing?
Phoebe, the 19-yr old tabby cat: Please don’t puke on the furniture or my clothes. Puke only on easy-to-clean surfaces. And thank you so much for being the World’s Greatest Kitty ™.
Midnight, the big beautiful black kitty: Please stop teasong the dog. Nothing good will come of this.
Auggie, The Cutest Dog on the Planet (TM): I don't know what the first 6 months of your life were like, because we found you on the side of the road. BUt you will always be loved, fed, warm, and played with, and will never, ever be hurt. And trust me, I do NOT want to share your rawhide.Powder: We love you. We will never, ever hurt you. After 7 years, I would think you would recognize that. Also, you are male. The other kitties are male. Therefore, they don’t appreciate you humping them. 
Majyk: I love your hugs. They make my nights. Having a kitty wrap all four paws around you and snuggle under your chin is one of the best feelings. Thank you. And stop being so damn pissy all the time! I know you get shots every day and the other kitties don’t, but that doesn’t mean we love them any more than we love you. Can’t we all just get along?
Merlin: You have 6 toes on all of your paws. All of your claws are double the thickness of a “normal” cat. So why do you insist on “kneading” us all the time? Have you not realized that it hurts?? And I apoligize for saying you look dumb all the time. You are adorable.
Boo: Yes, the tub does have great acoustics. That doesn’t mean we appreciate you sitting in there “singing” all the time. Also, our apartment is very small, so if you could stop getting lost and meowing until you find out where we are, it would be great! Aside from that, thank you for loving the vet. You are the only cat I have ever known to purr while being poked and prodded. And the Dr. appreciates it too! I love your belly, and I love the fact that you like it being pet Thank you for being such a fun, wild, weird cat!
Sid, If you don’t stop pissing all over the house, you’re going to the pound, If you don’t stop meowing at the top of your voice outside the baby’s room at three in the morning, you’re going to sleep outside. But, hey, thanks for catching that mouse last week. Good job. Now shut up and quit your spraying. You’re fixed, OK? you’re not supposed to do that anymore.
Tybalt: You have a cat door in the basement. You can go in and out at will. You do not need to be let out of this door. All the doors outside lead to the same outside. If you want to go outside, it would be a lot faster to just go into the basement than to come into the room we’re in, meow until we follow you, and then get us to open whichever door you’ve decided is the critical exit at this moment.
So, you’ve got a cat, eh Rue?
I’d tell Dainty not to yell in my ear at three AM because she has to go out. There is a perfectly good litterbox on the bathroom, just for her.
Joe the Rottie also has a problem with yelling at people. He does it from the porch everytime someone walks down the street. One of these days he’s going to blow the door off.
I’d ask the mice not to fight. Ditto the rats. Although judging from the baby explosion, maybe it’s not all fighting…
I’d ask the budgies to stop speaking cat. I keep thinking she’s in when she’s not.
Egg the Guinea pig really REALLY needs to stop squealing every time one of us moves.
And I’d thank everyone else for being so quiet (not hard if you’re a lizard or tarantulla!)
And mostly, I’d tell each and every one that I love 'em.
Cats:
Crash: You’re a sweetie, and I love when you sleep on me. However, stop egging Boom on. He’s been mostly well-behaved since we got him fixed, but you keep chasing him around the room. Also, stop chewing on his face when he’s trying to sleep. Also, you are not allowed on the computer “desk,” nor are you allowed on ANY of the snake cages or the shelf with the fish tank. And Bonk? LEAVE HER ALONE! Stop chasing her until she makes that god-awful screaming noise. She was declawed before we got her, so she doesn’t have much of a defense. And she hates you.
Boom: Let me say this slowly, because you have Dumb Eyes. Don’t claw up the carpet to the bedroom - there’s no one in there, we just keep it closed so the cold air from the drafty window doesn’t make it into the living room. Stop running full-speed through the living room between the hours of 3 and 6 am, chasing Crash. You easily weigh 15 pounds, and you sound like a herd of elephants - it wakes me up, so it probably wakes up our downstairs neighbors. While we’re at it, when I’m sleeping on the couch, my stomach is NOT a launching pad for you to launch yourself into the chest freezer from. You’re fat, and it hurts like hell. Also, I will feed you. If the food bowl is empty for 15 minutes, you’re not going to starve to death. You’re already fat, but in a cuddly way. Lastly, LEAVE BONK ALONE. She hates you, too.
Bonk: You’re my sweet Girly. I’m sorry I let the other cats into the apartment, but Boom was so pathetic as a stray outside, and Crash is just too cute and cuddly. If you stay near me, I’ll protect you from them. But you could play with them on occasion - you’d probably enjoy it. I just have one thing to ask: Could you PLEASE stop peeing on our clothes in the bedroom and pooping on any fabric that’s left on the bathroom floor? It’s quite annoying to have to smell my clothes if they’ve been on the floor for more than a day.
Snakes:
Half of you are good, but some of you need a speakin’ to.
GloomCookie and NailBunny: For the love of god, why won’t you eat? I’ve had GC since July, and you’ve refused to eat even once. I’ve tried everything, but you’re not interested. NB, I don’t know how you’re alive, since you’ve only eaten 5 times in the past year, but I’m glad you’re finally getting past your aversion to rats. You’re both too large to feed mice to, and you need to learn how to take rats. Rats are good for you, and they ARE edible. And NB, stop trying to bite me. It’s rude.
Spooky: My hands are NOT food. You’re the only one I need to wear gloves for. I realize that your head’s only as big as my thumb, but you’re still damn scary when you jump out of the box. Speaking of the box, you need to stay IN it in order to be fed. First you go into the box, then the rat does. See how that works? You eat rats, not me. I’m FAR too large for you. Besides, if you ate me, there wouldn’t be anyone to feed you from now on. So, settle the f down. I won’t let you starve.
Rats:
Just because I open the cage doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt you. I’ve never beaten you or anything. I’d pet you and bring you out of the cage if you ever let me. But thanks for not biting me anymore. Oh, and Fat Bastard? Stop sleeping on your back - it scares the bajeesus out of me because you look dead. And it’s be really neat if you could poop in a corner, so that’s all I had to clean out. In fact, being litter trained would be great, so I could let you wander the apartment, as long as you came back to me. And stop eating your water bottles! You have chew toys, why do you eat the bottles? Do you love plastic or something? I could afford more treats if I didn’t have to buy a new bottle every other week. Also, stop trying to jump out of the cage when I open the top. Big Momma, why do you only look at me with one eye? Are you blind in the other? What happened?
Fish:
Keep up the good work. But Pleco, stop pooping so much. Those long stands are gross.
I think I covered everything.