Humans have been obsessed from the dawn of time with where we came from, who brought us here, and why. While birthing and fathering was the closest we ever came to personally feeling the might of creation, we also realized that we could come close to that feeling with our domination over animals. Savage at first, we "humanized" that domination over the centuries (yes, I use the term "humanized" loosely). We narrowed it down to a handful of beasts. We saw it was good, and we called it domestication. Humane Societies were born, and therein shifted the paradigm: a delusion that "humanization" is actually what is best for animals. Because we're mighty creators. God's mini-me's.
Leashes. Choke collars. Electric fences, shock collars. Muzzles. Tranquilizing medications. Obedience school. Pet grooming salons and spas. Gourmet pet food. Air conditioning, dog sweaters. And people thought Sting's "Every Breath You Take" was creepy? Oh, can't you see? You belong to me! Who's a good boy now??
Seriously though. I find it odd and ironic that when we finally admitted the twisted nature of our need to own people, whether it was slaves or "the little woman", we decided to turn our predatory ways instead upon our recently domesticated friends.
Seriously though. I find it odd and ironic that when we finally admitted the twisted nature of our need to own people, whether it was slaves or "the little woman", we decided to turn our predatory ways instead upon our recently domesticated friends.
Barring domestic violence or Stockholm Syndrome, we don't force our human mates to stay in our homes. In the words of timeless wisdom: "Happiness is like a butterfly that sits on your shoulder when you stop chasing it". Chasing is a means to ownership. You chase something or someone you want to beat, perhaps own. Ownership is the heroin of material and trophy chasers, their addiction to the chase being the via crucis of a shallow existence.
At the opposite end of that spectrum some are caught in an empathy quagmire. They want to fix every suffering, hug every pain, fund every cure. Now what's wrong with that, you ask? Not everything, of course. Save the intention, ditch the arrogance. Wolves were once noble mammals that took care of themselves. Evolution-forbid they continued down that path, without the aid of food chain masters in shining armor.
I remember the first time that Nikolai (Niko, now an eleven year old husky) bolted from the front door of his new home. He was barely one year old, and he ran. And there I went, chasing after him. I chased him because, well, I guess I thought I owned him. Oh, that's not what I told myself. I told myself he might get hurt. He would get lost, hungry, in trouble. I would be a bad owner, for not taking the appropriate measures. And who knows what "they" might think. They might think that maybe he ran for a reason.
Niko was reportedly neglected or mistreated at least twice before "I rescued him" (cue in superhero theme music). Which means he had already ran twice. Even though I tried making his new environment as friendly and comfortable as possible, his survival instinct told him not to take any chances. But then again... who knows, perhaps his radar told him that my chasing after him was an endearing thing. Perhaps he thought, what the hell. Free food, free mortgage... eh, dogs can sell their souls too, right?
The more radical dog owners have been circulating memes of platitudes, putting dog above man. Dogs are noble, humans are bad. Dogs are the ultimate in unrequited love, we suck at it. Adorable, if it weren't disturbing. It's not self-effacing actually. Quite the opposite, it's self-serving. We are re-branding our blatant ownership of them with the ol' "putting the little woman on a pedestal" routine. I guess it is true what they say: can't teach an old human new tricks.
Yes, wolves first approached humans, against their better instinct, when the least adapted to survive had all but given up hope. They were hungry, very hungry. But then it happened: in some planetary alignment moment, an amused campfire human decided to throw the wolf a bone instead of eating him. And just like that, the first PetSmart was born. A similar evolutionary path for cats, mind you, though they hang on to evolutionary independence in quite an impressive way. A cat can survive in human jungleland way longer than a dog. Because we actually de-wolfed the dog, while we have barely managed to de-claw the cat. Which essentially means, from an evolutionary standpoint, former wolves are now one hundred percent dependent on humans. How noble of us.
The last time I "owned" a cat (around thirty years ago), de-clawing was never questioned. It was something you did, because you worked hard for your expensive furniture. Within the last decade or so, de-clawing has become inhumane. Same fate for electric shock collars. An interesting moving target. Fresh from a race that has de-wolfed a relatively new species of animal - and is quite righteous about it. If you don't see that righteousness, try leaving your dog in a parked car for five minutes. Even if it's in the shade, window cracked, and you are literally not going to leave him there for more than five minutes. You could be taking him to a dog park, or to the vet. No excuse. Better call Allstate when you get back.
I realize now I asked the wrong question, ten years ago: I should have not asked, how much is that doggie in the window? The wiser question would have been, how much is that soul in the window? Because, religion aside, it turns out that animals have souls. And a soul is not something you own. You want to stop animal cruelty? Let's start first with the one by your lap, or on it. I did try something different with Niko, as imperfect as it was. I "collaborated" with him from day one on an open-door policy. No electronic fence, no shock collar. Yes, I had to run after him quite a few times. He must have found that quite amusing. And it also meant I had to have conversations with my neighbors about that policy. I was lucky, or perhaps my neighbors appreciated the courtesy of asking them, not imposing it on them. I will say, knowing that Niko had free will to come and go as he pleased, and always chose to return back to where he wanted to be, was quite a powerful bonding.
I get it, it's too late, too impractical for too many. Dogs that would get run over by cars if they had "too much" freedom. Or they would get into fights with other animals, or bite a human. I'm not casting any judgement on that. The more productive question going forward should be, what will you do different before you "own" your next dog? Because if there is one thing I still agree on ten years after I asked the doggie in the window question is that, in the grand scheme of things, that doggie in the window is priceless. You cannot own them, even if you think you do.
Yes, wolves first approached humans, against their better instinct, when the least adapted to survive had all but given up hope. They were hungry, very hungry. But then it happened: in some planetary alignment moment, an amused campfire human decided to throw the wolf a bone instead of eating him. And just like that, the first PetSmart was born. A similar evolutionary path for cats, mind you, though they hang on to evolutionary independence in quite an impressive way. A cat can survive in human jungleland way longer than a dog. Because we actually de-wolfed the dog, while we have barely managed to de-claw the cat. Which essentially means, from an evolutionary standpoint, former wolves are now one hundred percent dependent on humans. How noble of us.
The last time I "owned" a cat (around thirty years ago), de-clawing was never questioned. It was something you did, because you worked hard for your expensive furniture. Within the last decade or so, de-clawing has become inhumane. Same fate for electric shock collars. An interesting moving target. Fresh from a race that has de-wolfed a relatively new species of animal - and is quite righteous about it. If you don't see that righteousness, try leaving your dog in a parked car for five minutes. Even if it's in the shade, window cracked, and you are literally not going to leave him there for more than five minutes. You could be taking him to a dog park, or to the vet. No excuse. Better call Allstate when you get back.
I realize now I asked the wrong question, ten years ago: I should have not asked, how much is that doggie in the window? The wiser question would have been, how much is that soul in the window? Because, religion aside, it turns out that animals have souls. And a soul is not something you own. You want to stop animal cruelty? Let's start first with the one by your lap, or on it. I did try something different with Niko, as imperfect as it was. I "collaborated" with him from day one on an open-door policy. No electronic fence, no shock collar. Yes, I had to run after him quite a few times. He must have found that quite amusing. And it also meant I had to have conversations with my neighbors about that policy. I was lucky, or perhaps my neighbors appreciated the courtesy of asking them, not imposing it on them. I will say, knowing that Niko had free will to come and go as he pleased, and always chose to return back to where he wanted to be, was quite a powerful bonding.
I get it, it's too late, too impractical for too many. Dogs that would get run over by cars if they had "too much" freedom. Or they would get into fights with other animals, or bite a human. I'm not casting any judgement on that. The more productive question going forward should be, what will you do different before you "own" your next dog? Because if there is one thing I still agree on ten years after I asked the doggie in the window question is that, in the grand scheme of things, that doggie in the window is priceless. You cannot own them, even if you think you do.
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