Why-to compare cats and dogs:
Things do change, however. Cats can seem like ideal company at times, but their status as the paragon of pets cannot be established until they’ve been compared with other animals. The most obvious other contender for best pet is, of course, the dog. In fact, the oldest record of the practice of dog ownership dates much farther back than cat domestication to over twelve thousand years ago.
Why-to consider the perception of the scope of time in relation to the domestication of cats and dogs:
I realize that, if you consider the whole history of the Earth, from whenever it began to whenever it ends, then, from the perspective of the Earth itself, the difference between ten and twelve thousand years ago isn’t all that big.
From a human perspective, the difference between those two numbers would, well, depend on the particular human. Given that the life expectancy of those living in less developed nations is about fifty years old – that is to say, developed in terms of some governmental definitions of success – the difference between those two figures might not be important because fifty years is only time enough to pursue so many activities and archaeological studies of the original domestication of animals might not be at the very top of the list. And, if you factor in the sweeping AIDS epidemic, which would make the life expectancy of someone in Botswana closer to something more like 39.7 years old, the difference between when dogs were first domesticated and when cats were first domesticated probably doesn’t seem all that large. In terms of the life expectancy in more developed countries, which is about 76 years of age, the difference between 10,000 and 12,000 years ago could seem like a lot. That two thousand year difference is about 26.3 lifetimes and you can only imagine the number of activities that could be pursued in that amount of time. So, from that perspective, the fact that dogs were integrated into human society before cats may well factor into your decision of whether or not to own them.
In any case, if you live to be 76, 50, or 39.7, an understanding about where certain cultural practices come from can better inform you about the present world in which you live so that you can pursue activities with more gusto and, potentially, get more out of the activities when you are pursuing them. You might even gain some insight into what factors influence your life and limit your life expectancy to 39.7 years old or extend it to 76. One of the many cultural practices to consider, then, is why-to own dogs.
It’s possible that the pack mentality of dogs made them easier to train, receiving and reacting to human social cues much more easily than other species. Perhaps they were used to help people hunt other animals in the Mesolithic era and a symbiotic relationship grew between people and these small, non-threatening wolves. Either way, the fact that dogs are pack animals gives rise to a number of advantages that they have as pets.
The natural instincts of dogs have been capitalized upon by humans so that dogs are used the world over to herd sheep, pull loads, and protect the lives and property of people. And as the relationship between domestic dogs and humans grows more intricately entwined, dogs have even entered the human workforce, acting as military or law enforcement agents and by aiding the disabled. Though they are not rewarded using human currency, forced into a highly competitive job market and pitted against one another to make ends meet, they are paid with food, shelter, and the companionship of their human employers.
Dogs offer the same tactile benefits as cats, but they’re more interactive. You can play with a dog for hours and they’ll go on runs with you so that you’re not exercising alone. The little ones are easy to manage and the big ones can drag you around and give you something to wrestle with. They are easily entertained by the same repetitive task of retrieving a thrown ball. If you stare at a dog while it engages in tug of war, chasing its tail, playing fetch, or barking at a speck of light, you may begin to absorb the dog’s own simplicity of mind. Through wondering about the pleasure that the dog receives, life’s activities become reduced to a simple equation of reward and punishment, cause and effect. “Goodness” is defined by whether or not a behavior will result in food or a hearty pat on the back and “badness” is whether or not the result is a harsh, loud tone emanating from the master’s mouth or a sharp snap on the nose from a human information transmitter, a newspaper or gossip periodical. The dog is happy as long as it is active and, as long as all physical needs are met, the dog is only sad when it is bored. This mindset, when extrapolated to human endeavors, can teach you a lot about how human happiness can be achieved and, so, can be quite a valuable learning tool and investment for you as a dog owner.
Why-to own dogs (for educational reasons):
Pavlov used the dog’s reactions to reward and punishment as a means of researching the learning mechanisms of the mind, simultaneously ringing a bell while feeding the animals so that the dogs came to associate the sound of the bell with food. Soon, the dogs would salivate in response to the bell without any food present whatsoever, demonstrating to the world that learning can take place without conscious awareness and that there are times when our own actions seem entirely out of our control.
Though cats can certainly give you a sense of belonging to this Universe, you might classify their independence as “indifference” and such a label can leave you with a sense of rejection when they don’t need you to be around. Dogs, on the other hand, need the pack to survive. This loyalty to the pack not only reflects a practical benefit to dog ownership, but also fulfills an emotional role so that a dog enjoys your presence and misses it when it’s gone, creating in you a strong sense of importance and interdependence.
I remember growing up with my own German Shepherd, Emily, and how she seemed to have a stronger emotional attachment to us than any of our cats did. Of course, our cats relied on us for food and affection, but with Emily, there was a human quality to her emotions. During the intense Midwestern thunderstorms, she’d desperately bark at my door, pounce on it, trying to open it, and crawl into my bed in fear. After vacations, leaving her only to be intermittently walked and fed by a family friend, she tore apart our furniture out of distress at our departure and expressed real joy at our return.
When my brother would beat me up, I would, naturally, cry and, at the sound of my sobs, Emily would run into the room, bark at Ethan, and lick the tears off of my face. I remember that I even started to feign emotional distress just so that I could trick her into attacking my brother. When she eventually understood the ruse—that I wasn’t actually in any danger—she stopped coming to my rescue when I cried genuine tears. This is both the saddest and most literal account of “the boy who cried wolf” that I can think of to date.