One curiosity of language, both in English and Spanish, and I’m sure in other languages, is the use of the names of animals as verbs. Gatear comes from gato: cat in Spanish, and it means to crawl, so to move around on four legs. Or in the case of humans, 2 arms and 2 knees. Where exactly are cats’ knees? But anyway. The verb carries a characteristic of the animal, though sometimes, in my opinion, unfairly. Maybe we should term it a characteristic that we perceive of an animal, obviously from a human perspective, when really the animal itself may not even present that behaviour that we assign to them, at least not consciously. After all, animals do what they do, don’t they?

So I thought I’d experiment with a very short story, trying to use a variety of verbs in order to illustrate how they form a natural part of our language which we don’t even think twice about. It may not be a great story, (!) but as you read, see if you can spot them, (there are 16), and consider if or why the characteristics of the animal correspond (or not!) with the meaning of the verb.

Here goes…

Awaking from drowsiness, she craned her neck to peer through the window. It was still dark. He was hogging the covers, as usual. She tugged them back. Maybe it was the cold that had woken her, but she realised she probably wouldn’t get back to sleep. She roused her phone. 4:30 am. Sighing and turning on to her side, trying to ignore his rabbiting on in sleep, she considered the day to come. She was glad she had ratted on her boss: he had been hounding her for weeks. Messages, comments on her clothes, her hair, her work performance, plus repeated requests for overtime, ostensibly to review her schedule. How he badgered her had become intolerable. But at the same time, she was concerned about the possible repercussions. In the big scheme of things, she questioned whether it was really that bad. But all of that, added to seeing him swanning around the office as if he were god’s gift while everyone else was beavering away had become too much to take.

***

She had overslept after a fitful night. Wolfing down a coffee and a piece of toast and jam, she ran to the car, worried she would miss the mediation to take place that morning. She couldn’t stand the thought of him crowing that he’d won, purely because she’d missed the appointment.

As she drove in from her home on the outskirts of town, a small village, following the peaceful river as it snaked through the open countryside, she contemplated the twists and turns her life had taken. The one that immediately sprang to mind was the time she’d rammed into a bouncy castle, (erected for the village fair and not yet dismantled afterwards and no-one was hurt after all), in a fit of rage and tears after losing a job in circumstances not dissimilar to those she was now facing. She had said no to unwanted advances and ended up being fired. A little compensation to keep quiet and foolishly, she now thought, she’d taken it, just to escape a toxic environment.

Well, not this time. Why should she have to leave? She only had to make sure her feelings didn’t get the better of her. Remain calm, answer questions truthfully and stand your ground. She parroted in her head the words her work rep had made her memorise. But even so, she felt woefully unprepared.

***

As she entered the room, everyone was already there. She was in time, but only just. During her account of events, something disconcerting happened. He alternated between sorrowful shakes of the head and looks of shock at her claims. And then, ever so subtly, so only she would pick up on it, he began to ape all of her movements. How she held her hands, when she shuffled her papers, how she scratched her neck anxiously. And when it was his turn to respond, to her surprise, he clammed up. Didn’t say a word. He simply looked sad. It was almost as if he were trying to gaslight her.

She was vaguely aware of a smoothness in her hand. Glancing down, she noticed she was clenching a fist around a paperweight next to her documents in order to avoid driving her nails into her palm. Remain calm, answer questions truthfully and stand your ground. The silky texture of the stone was soothing, but only for a moment. Gradually, the situation was becoming too much. As though all the frustration, the bile, was rising up from her stomach and would burst forth at any moment. 

She turned to her rep and whispered to her, as if to consult, “When I say duck…”

“DUCK!”

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