#9 Play With Our Pets
Apr 17th, 2008 by doing better
We were not the only children in the world who failed to play with our pets as much as we should have. Enchanted by dreams of fur and fluff, we begged to be given a rabbit or puppy or chick, but the realities of caring for a pet every day were not quite as we had imagined. Parents see this coming, the waning of excitement and procrastination over feeding and cleaning. They resist adopting a new pet, but childish enthusiasm prevails.
“Maybe my child is different from other kids,” thinks the parent. “Maybe he really will take care of his pet. That’s how it is in the dog books. The little boy and the dog are so devoted to each other. They spend every moment together, sharing food and fleas and adventures, until the dog dies. Then it is very sad, but that will be good for my child to learn about loss as well as responsibility.”
How would we fare in place of one of our pets? Certainly it would be a relief to give up the burdens of adult life and submit to the control of doting masters. The stresses and strains of family and career would fall away as we basked in the luxury of care.
First there is the blessed relief of sleep. No more alarm clocks! As well as a small bedroom in the washing machine room, our masters provide a day bed for naps in front of the television. Like teenagers or embryos we can once again sleep twenty hours a day.
Though in our original state we told ourselves that we enjoyed stimulating our minds, our caring masters know better. They will not let us strain ourselves with too much reading, and there is no question of writing. We may be given an old copy of Time magazine, but only for the pictures.
“How sweet!” they say. “Look how she pores over that magazine. We’ve tried throwing it away because it’s getting so beat up, but she fishes it out of the trash can. Sometimes she doesn’t even realize that she is reading it upside down.”
Our walks are often postponed due to the busy schedules of our masters, leaving us with longer periods of blessed sleep; however, during sporadic periods of recreation, we pursue our former passion for hiking as we accompany our masters on their exercises around the neighborhood. If they choose to put a collar around our necks, we recognize that it is no different from a wedding band: a symbol of love and belonging. Sometimes on our rambles we meet other pets who, lacking our social graces, shout at us and make lewd approaches with their noses, but our masters defend our honor.
Our masters attend to our physical needs when they have the time, stroking and scratching our naked bodies. They regulate our diet and carefully measure the dry cereal we are given twice a day. Their children engage our imaginations, dressing us up in clothes that do not belong to our species and prodding us into games whose rules we cannot guess.
Most of us are spared the stresses of childbirth and childrearing. Our reproductive capacity is compassionately removed as a precaution against pregnancy resulting from rape by itinerant males who may climb over the fence when we are caged (for our protection) in the backyard. However, if we happen to be of aristocratic descent, it may be arranged for us to have sex once or twice in our life with another aristocrat of approved bloodline, though we are not expected to bear the burden of too much small talk before or after.
As members of human society, we suffered a great deal from family feuds and dysfunctions. As pets we never have to worry about difficult family members, for we never see our family after infancy. Sibling rivalry is virtually unknown, as our brothers and sisters are separated and adopted by other families. Divorce and broken homes are obsolete; our mother is unlikely to have known our father for more than a few minutes.
The heavy demands placed on us by our families, which used to drive us to mental and physical illness, are reduced almost to nothing. Our mere presence in the household is enough to satisfy our masters, and we receive from them unconditional love such as our human families and friends were never quite able to muster.
Any boredom or loss of vocation or ambition is surely a small price to pay for the security and constant affection we know as pets. Although there is no question of our going out into the world to pursue our own aims and happiness, we must ask ourselves how many of us actually achieved those aims when given the chance.
Nevertheless, we may sometimes find ourselves acting in ways that are unfathomably childish. Seeking attention, we may throw things on the floor, upend the trash, or chew things that do not belong to us. While it is humiliating to act in such a manner, we must remember that one can never truly know oneself. Who, in his heart, is as civilized as he claims?
If our former human friends – those mountain climbers and surgeons and teachers and marathon runners – could behold our lives as pets, they might be shocked to see how tranquil and resigned we have become as we lie sprawled on our daybed, watching the sun creep across the sky.
“She doesn’t mind,” say our loving masters. “She doesn’t know any different. She’ll live longer in captivity.”
It’s true. We don’t mind. We don’t know any different. We shall live longer in here than we would in the wild.