We
bipeds love quadrupeds, especially Canis familiaris
(the barker) and Felis catus (the meower).
Annually,
we spend billions of dollars on our beloved pets. The
pet food market alone is worth an estimated $94.5 billion.
According to bloomberg.com, the pet industry
is poised to swell from $320 billion today (2024) to
almost $500 billion by 2030. Those monies could put
$1,000 dollars in the pockets of five hundred million
earthlings, which begs the question if yet another #MeToo
has been silenced by the prerogative of the purse.
There
are 700 million around the world currently living in
extreme poverty, defined as living on less than $1.90
per/day. Ipso facto, there is no mistaking
where our priorities lie, which is good news for our
favourite four-legged friends
and damning news for far too many human beings on the
planet.
Despite
the preponderance of empirical evidence to the contrary,
most pet owners will vigorously insist that they value
human life more than any animal’s life, an insistence
that collapses in the crucible of observed behaviour.
To wit and by analogy: I can declare to the world that
I am a charitable person, but if I don’t give to charity,
am I charitable? The answer is incontestably ‘no,’ because
we are judged and judge others not by what we say but
by what we do. We only have to ask the needy to know
that, despite my declaration, I am not charitable. Which
means pet lovers have managed to finesse a disconnect
that enables them to proclaim that they value human
life more than animal life, while spending their human
capital -- time and money – on their cherished pets.
However
inappropriate, if not impertinent, is it fair to ask
what sleight of mind permits pet owners to insouciantly
budget perhaps hundreds if not thousands of dollars
yearly on their cats and dogs while the homeless sift
through their garbage, or another malnourished child
dies in the arms of its mother? Or more generally, why
do human beings care for the well-being of their animal
friends more than the well-being of the multitudinous
impoverished of the planet?
According to UNICEF 3.1 million children die of starvation
every year. The French poet Stephane Mallarmé writes
that “dying of hunger gives you the right to be born
again,” but we know they don’t get a second chance;
meanwhile our darling dogs are chomping at the bit waiting
to be served their $50 bag of vitamin enriched, cheddar
rippled chow burgers.
Every
pet owner in the world stood in front of the mirror
knows that the life of any starving child is worth more
than any pet, so why are human beings unable to act
according to what they know is right?
Since
this perversion of values meets the minimum requirements
of nihilism, defined by Nietzsche as “the devaluation
of value,” and is a worldwide phenomenon, there must
be reasons for it, and by ‘it’ we refer to pethood and
the 94%
of pet owners who regard their animal
friends – dog breath notwithstanding -- as part of the
family.
All
human beings want to love and be loved, and to feel
needed; and our treasured pets, more than the world’s
destitute, satisfy that apparently non-negotiable desideratum.
We can hug, hold, fondle and cuddle our pets, make room
for them in ours beds, just as we don’t want to see,
much less come in contact with the unwashed, grimy community
of the homeless, shadowy figures we try to pretend aren’t
there; and when they are there, in our faces, we pay
them to disappear. Of course nothing is preventing us
from diverting the monies we spend on pets to organizations
that feed the starving, but we get nothing back in return:
no hugs, no company, no love. The only thing to be had
from giving to starving children thousands of miles
away is a clean conscience, which apparently isn’t enough.
When
human beings are in the loving mode, where love is defined
as the pure attention lavished on the other, be it biped
or quadruped, the immune system enjoys a boost and serotonin
indices go up. Physiologically and psychologically,
the pleasures derived from pethood by far outweigh the
pleasures derived from caring for the homeless or hungry.
Which means the playing field isn’t level, that compared
to the quadruped, the biped is constitutionally disadvantaged.
Pets
comfort us when we’re sad and lonely; we can touch them
when there is no one else to touch; they provide us
with a purpose in life, an excuse to get off our butts,
and a pretext to meet new people. Unlike for the homeless,
we grieve and bury our pets when they pass on.
Singles,
in particular, look to their pets to supply their emotional
deficits. If the true language of love between couples
consists more of sounds than speech, pethood uniquely
enables that special dispensation. It’s not the homeless
but our cats and dogs we allow to curl around our legs
and lay their heads on our pillow.
Among
mankind’s special pleasures, there is none more satisfying
than exercising power. Through reward and punishment,
pet lovers are supreme masters over their pets. The
lingua franca of the typical pet owner is the
command function that reduces human speech to the equivalent
of monosyllabic barking (sit, heel, no), That the person-to-pet-relationship
is extravagantly asymmetrical is easily finessed with
a saucer of fresh milk or bowl of Purina. Pride of pet
is proportionate to obedience.
Pet
lovers (insanabilis hypocritae), most of whom
are guilelessly vocal in their advocacy, present themselves
to the world as caring, compassionate human beings,
but in point of fact they are motivated by selfish ends,
looking out more for themselves than for the cause they
trumpet. Based on unceasing, self-righteous dialogue
that underpins the pet lover’s most cherished delusions,
we are made to believe that their priorities stem from
kindnesses that benefit millions of animals worldwide,
whereas the most important kindness is to and for themselves,
vouchsafing the observation that man becomes truly creative
when justifying his pleasures.
There is no getting around the fact that pethood is
a pleasure pet owners find hard to refuse. Even the
poor, living among people poorer than themselves, allocate
an obscene percentage of disposable income on their
prized pets.
What we all ask of our pets, and they never fail us,
is that they be incurably stupid and non-judgmental.
In the presence of our pets we want to be able to ‘unselfconsciously’
attend to nostril upkeep, flatus disposal, and lounge
around in underwear the Tide box is eyeing with suspicion.
The moment our pets begin to show even the smallest
inclination of developing faculties of judgement, there
will erupt a holocaust the likes of which the planet
earth has never seen and pet incineration will be the
next growth industry.
As to the wretched of the earth, and no nation is excluded,
they exist because human beings are constitutionally
unable to care for other human beings other than family,
relations and a small circle of close friends, which
includes our pampered pets. It’s one thing to care intellectually
for the world’s impoverished; it’s altogether something
else to care existentially. If I truly cared for the
needy, I would not purchase a new flat screen television
but would divert those monies to the hurting and helpless.
Since
pethood is demonstrably beneficial for both mental and
physical well-being, and human nature is, for the most
part, intractable, should pet-lovers be excused for
catering to their pets at the expense of human suffering?
It seems that pethood is a pleasure that only those
of evolved conscience can refuse; meanwhile the path
of least resistance continues to meet no resistance.
Next to caring for the hungry and homeless in our midst,
pethood is walk in the park. In
an age where appearances trump all other considerations,
one would think that it is in every pet owner’s self-interest
to show that he/she regards human life equal to an animal’s
life, but pet lovers are quick to form insular communities
that safeguard them from inconvenient truths that quickly
wither thin next to their emotional attachment to their
pets.
Reduced
to its lowest common denominator, the worldwide culture
of pethood is a constant reminder that we are a flawed
species, for whom doing daily diligence at the altar
of self-gratification is its own justification. And
dare we mention that the species is presently stirring
up a cocktail of lethal chemicals that imperils all
of earth’s life forms, including our darling pets.
If
having read to its concluding paragraphs this invective
parading as a reason-based denunciation, and if winning
my respect means anything, you only have to look me
in the eye and in the spirit of confession declare:
“Yes, I value my pet more than most human beings.”
By
entering an unsettling truth into the public domain
you are now a better person than you once were, and
no one can ask more of you than to take the next step
in your life’s journey.
But, pet amans caveat, not to take that first
step is to throw your essential humanity into question.
