Your cat sits on your keyboard at 3 AM. Your dog stares at you while you eat. Your hamster runs on that squeaky wheel for the thousandth time this week. If these creatures could suddenly send text messages, the sheer chaos would probably break the internet within hours. But here’s the real question: what would they actually say?

Based on animal behavior patterns, scientific research, and the countless hours pet owners spend interpreting mysterious meows and barks, we can make some educated (and hilarious) guesses about the text conversations we’d be having with our animal companions. The results range from adorably mundane to absolutely chaotic, and honestly, it might be better that they can’t text after all.

Dogs Would Be the Most Enthusiastic Texters Ever

If dogs could text, your phone would never stop buzzing. Every single moment would warrant immediate communication. “YOU’RE HOME!” at 5:03 PM. “WHERE DID YOU GO?” at 5:04 PM when you walked to the bathroom. “YOU’RE BACK!” at 5:05 PM when you returned.

Dogs would absolutely abuse the caps lock function because everything is genuinely the most exciting thing that has ever happened. “SQUIRREL OUTSIDE!!!” “DINNER TIME IS IN 6 HOURS!!!” “I HEARD A NOISE THREE BLOCKS AWAY!!!” The exclamation points would be excessive, but completely sincere. According to experts who study what dogs actually respond to, their entire emotional range operates at maximum enthusiasm, which would definitely translate to their texting style.

The autocorrect fails alone would be legendary. “I buried something in the garden” would become “I married something in the garden.” “Can we go to the park?” would turn into “Can we go to the pork?” which, honestly, they’d also be thrilled about. Every text thread would eventually devolve into them asking for walks, treats, or confirming for the fifteenth time that yes, you are indeed the best human in the entire world and they love you more than anything.

Cats Would Master the Art of Cryptic Messages

Cat texts would arrive at random intervals with zero explanation. “I know what you did.” at 2 AM. “We need to talk.” at 4 PM. “Interesting.” at 11 PM. No context, no follow-up, just pure psychological warfare delivered in short, ominous bursts.

They’d send photos of things they knocked off counters with captions like “Oops” or “Gravity is weird.” They’d tag you in posts at 6 AM with a single word: “Food?” The passive-aggressive energy would be unmatched. “I see you’re home. How nice.” “Oh, you’re petting the dog now. Cool. Cool cool cool.”

Cats would definitely read your messages and deliberately wait hours to respond, even though you can literally see them sitting right there. They’d use the typing indicator just to mess with you, those three little dots appearing and disappearing for minutes while they debate whether you deserve a response. When they finally do reply, it would be something like “k” or a single emoji. Their group chat game would be strong, though. All the neighborhood cats definitely have a group thread where they share gossip and coordinate their 3 AM zoomies.

Birds Would Not Understand Volume Control

Parrots would text exactly like they talk: repetitive, loud, and including random phrases they picked up from overhearing your conversations. “HELLO HELLO HELLO” at 6 AM sharp. Then they’d repeat your most embarrassing phone conversation back to you word-for-word in the middle of a serious text thread. “WHO’S A PRETTY BIRD? IT’S ME. I’M THE PRETTY BIRD.”

They’d absolutely screenshot your messages and share them with other birds, adding commentary like “Can you believe this human?” They’d also develop strong opinions about your texting habits. “You used the wrong emoji. I taught you better than this.” The voice message function would be a nightmare because they’d just send recordings of them screaming or mimicking your ringtone.

Smaller birds like budgies would send rapid-fire updates about everything happening in their immediate vicinity. “Seed. Found seed. Eating seed. Seed gone. Looking for seed. Mirror bird is back. Mirror bird copied me. Seed?” The stream of consciousness would be constant and completely unfiltered.

Hamsters Would Have the Weirdest Sleep Schedule Texts

Hamster messages would arrive exclusively during human sleeping hours. “You up?” at 2 AM. “Running on my wheel. Thought you should know.” at 3 AM. “Where do you keep the sunflower seeds? Asking for a friend.” at 4 AM. They’d have zero concept of appropriate texting times because their entire existence operates on a nocturnal schedule that makes no sense to anyone else.

Their texts would mostly revolve around their elaborate hoarding systems. “Found a really good spot for this piece of carrot. Not telling you where.” “Moved all my food to a new location. Previous location compromised.” “Inventory update: 47 seeds, 3 cheerios, 1 mystery item.” They’d send architectural plans for their burrow expansions and get genuinely offended if you didn’t respond with appropriate enthusiasm.

The photo attachments would be exclusively extreme close-ups of their faces because they don’t understand camera distance. Every selfie would be 90% nose and whiskers. “Felt cute, might hoard later.” They’d also accidentally pocket-dial you constantly while stuffing their cheek pouches because they don’t have pockets and those little paws aren’t great with touchscreens.

Fish Would Send the Most Zen Messages

Goldfish would text you the same thing every three seconds because of the whole memory myth (which isn’t actually true, but let’s roll with the comedy). “Hey, did you feed me?” “Who are you?” “This castle is new!” even though that castle has been there for two years. Their texts would have an oddly philosophical quality though. “Just swimming. Existing. Being one with the current. You?”

Betta fish would be the aggressive texters of the aquarium world. “You see that other betta in the tank next to me? I could take him.” “Still could take him.” “Put us in the same tank, I dare you.” Every message would somehow circle back to proving their dominance or criticizing your decorating choices. “Really? A plastic plant? We’re doing plastic plants now?”

If you’re interested in other animal perspectives, our guide to why your pet probably thinks you’re weird explores even more amusing possibilities about what goes through their minds. Fish would definitely contribute to that discussion with observations like “The tall one keeps tapping on my glass. I don’t go to their house and tap on their windows.”

Farm Animals Would Run a Very Active Group Chat

Chickens would operate a dramatic group chat that rivals any reality TV show. “Brenda laid an egg in MY favorite spot.” “This is about what happened last Tuesday, isn’t it, Brenda?” “Can everyone please focus? We have a worm situation to discuss.” The pecking order would extend directly into their text hierarchy, with the head hen dominating the conversation and everyone else trying to get a word in.

Cows would send long, thoughtful messages that take forever to type because they’re very deliberate about everything. “Hello. I hope this message finds you well. I wanted to discuss the grass situation in the north pasture. It is adequate, but I believe there are superior options in the east field that we should explore. Please advise. Regards, Bessie.” Every message would be formal and thoroughly considered, like they’re composing business emails.

Pigs would be surprisingly tech-savvy and probably hack into the farmer’s phone to order food delivery. “Quick question: can you explain why we can’t just order pizza?” They’d definitely figure out how to use food apps and start mysterious subscriptions. The monthly credit card statement would include unexplained charges from “Acorns R Us” and “Premium Mud Monthly Box.”

Wild Animals Would Have Zero Chill

Squirrels would text like they’re in a constant state of emergency. “FOUND NUT!” “LOST NUT!” “FOUND DIFFERENT NUT!” “FORGOT WHERE I PUT FIRST NUT!” The energy would be frantic and exhausting. They’d also send location drops of every single acorn they bury, then immediately forget they sent them, defeating the entire purpose.

Raccoons would exclusively text after midnight with increasingly questionable requests. “You gonna eat that?” “What’s your trash pickup schedule?” “Asking for a friend, how do you open a ‘childproof’ container?” They’d share tutorials with each other on breaking into various types of garbage bins and rate neighborhoods based on the quality of discarded food. “Elm Street: 4/5 stars. Great variety but sometimes they lock the bins. Maple Avenue: 5/5 stars. They leave pizza boxes right on top.”

Deer would send jump-scare messages. “IN YOUR GARDEN.” “EATING YOUR FLOWERS.” “YOU CAN’T CATCH ME.” Then they’d stand perfectly still when you come outside, as if freezing in place somehow makes them invisible. Their texts would continue: “You can’t see me. I’m a statue. This is fine.” Meanwhile, they’re standing in the middle of your demolished tomato plants in broad daylight.

The Chaos of Animal Group Chats

Imagine a neighborhood group chat that includes all animals. The dog would add everyone enthusiastically: “NEW FRIENDS!!!” The cat would immediately mute notifications. The birds would argue about territory. “This is MY telephone wire.” “Actually, I’ve been using this wire since last Tuesday.” “You’re both wrong, this is clearly a communal wire situation.”

Someone would accidentally add a local predator, and things would get awkward fast. Rabbit: “Anyone want to meet up at the garden later?” Fox: “Yes. I would very much like that.” Rabbit: “On second thought, I’m busy. Forever.” The group admin (probably the dog, because they’d volunteer immediately) would have to establish some ground rules about appropriate conversation topics.

The absolute chaos of different species trying to coordinate anything would be entertainment gold. “Meeting at the big oak tree at sunset.” “Which oak tree?” “The big one.” “They’re all big to you, you’re a mouse.” “The one near the thing.” “What thing?!” Eventually, they’d just send increasingly blurry photos of landmarks trying to establish a meeting point, and nobody would show up at the same location.

If animals could text, humanity would simultaneously have the best entertainment ever and absolutely no productivity whatsoever. Your phone would constantly buzz with your pet’s running commentary on your life choices, wild animals would organize sophisticated heists in plain sight, and we’d all spend hours trying to decode what “Feed me” means when you literally just fed them twenty minutes ago. The mute button would become humanity’s best friend, though knowing dogs, they’d somehow find a way around that too. They’d probably just show up in person to tell you about the text they sent, completely defeating the purpose of texting in the first place. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way.