DO: Treat Your Dog Like a Human
Some aspects of anthropomorphism are good. In my opinion, I believe pet owners can relate to pets by attributing certain human characteristics to their puppies and dogs. As pet owners, we watch our fuzzy family member closely. We try interpreting her facial expressions, wagging tail and body positioning to understand her needs. Of course, as pet owners, we tap into the only knowledge we have, which come from our own emotions and body language.
As pet owners, when our dog or puppy whimpers, we run to console her because the sound resembles a small child in need. We want to protect, nurture and love her; it’s normal human behavior. I believe anthropomorphism creates empathy, which I feel is a good thing between pet owners and their precious dogs.
When pet owners dress their dogs in darling little dresses, place barrettes in their hair or push their dogs in baby strollers, this is an example of anthropomorphism. Some pet experts feel treating dogs like human children is taking the behavior a bit too far, but honestly, I don’t have an issue with it. When I see a dog wearing a fabulous polka dot dress or sporting a trendy bandana, I see this as the pet owner loving and caring for his dog intensely, and I feel all dogs deserve this type of love and devotion.
Do’s and Don’ts of Treating Dogs Like Humans
It depends. There’s a long, fancy word for treating dogs like humans, and it’s called anthropomorphism. Anthropomorphism is defined as the “attribution of human traits, emotions, and intentions to non-human entities and is considered to be an innate tendency of human psychology” (Oxford Dictionary, 1885).
You’re probably wondering how anthropomorphism applies to you and your dog, which is a fair question. As a professional dog trainer, I have mixed emotions about ascribing human feelings to dogs. I think there are good and bad parts of this puzzle, so let’s discuss whether or not you should treat dogs like humans.
Charismatic animals tend to receive an illogical amount of human care and attention. The sadness prompted by s of a polar bear whose habitat is shrinking often outstrips the sympathy generated by a climate refugee in the same situation. I can’t remember the last time I went to the doctor for a routine checkup, but I take Luna twice a year. It’s “problematic,” the dog trainer Annie Grossman says, “to treat them like we would want to treat a person.” Dogs are meant to be dogs; they evolved to hunt, to work, and to live in packs. “We give them everything they need. Is that really giving the dog the best possible life?” Carrell has a counterpoint, though: “If you have something, and you care for it, why wouldn’t you spend the money?” I looked at Tinkerbelle, in her pink jacket, and considered the fact that I cut my boyfriend’s hair in the kitchen, but Luna goes to a Brooklyn groomer where a wash and trim costs over a hundred dollars, with tip.
A couple of years ago, I put on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and asked my dog, Luna, if she needed anything from the bodega. It was then that I realized just how deep into the madness of pet anthropomorphism I had sunk. My excuse, of course, is the same as every other nut job’s. I swear that Luna, a fluffy, mischievous, ninety-pound Border collie–Great Pyrenees mix, is basically a human. She’s as big as one, anyway, and as expressive. Friends come over for parties, gaze into her skeptical hazel eyes, and inform me that Luna resembles a person wearing a dog suit. Because I work from home, I’ve spent much more time with her than I have with my actual human partner, and every day I observe her mood shifting like the light in our apartment: she’s sleepy; she’s hyper; she’s on edge; she’s happy; she wants to be left alone. Like most dog-owners, I have developed an embarrassing voice that I use to ventriloquize her thoughts and feelings (as I imagine them, anyway), and, if Luna were docile enough to dress up in anything more complicated than a bandanna, I would probably style a full outfit for her every day.
This kind of behavior is fairly common—and there’s a thriving market aimed at it, as detailed in the Annals of Obsession video above. Tinkerbelle, a papillon-Maltese mix whose Wikipedia page describes her as a “canine model and internet celebrity,” has appeared in ads for Ralph Lauren, Febreze, Swiffer, and Target. “I just treat her as a person more than an animal,” her owner, Sam Carrell, says. “And I think that’s why she’s so successful, too, is because she’s not treated as an animal.” If you have the means, you can treat your dog not just like a human but like a rich and fancy one: Kerry Brown, the co-owner of the New York City location of D Pet Hotels, a “five star” chain of boutique dog accommodations, runs an establishment with a full slate of amenities, including night-and-day room service prepared by a private chef; a gym called Pant, where dogs can run on treadmills; and a selection of grooming options, including the Rich Bitch and the Suri Cruz. “Does a dog need a forty-two-inch flat-screen TV?” Brown asks. “No. They do not. But a parent knows that, by having that TV running, it will keep the dog company and help the dog feel more at home.”
The Problem with Treating a Dog Like a Pet | Kim Brophey | TEDxUNCAsheville
A couple of years ago, I put on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and asked my dog, Luna, if she needed anything from the bodega. It was then that I realized just how deep into the madness of pet anthropomorphism I had sunk. My excuse, of course, is the same as every other nut job’s. I swear that Luna, a fluffy, mischievous, ninety-pound Border collie–Great Pyrenees mix, is basically a human. She’s as big as one, anyway, and as expressive. Friends come over for parties, gaze into her skeptical hazel eyes, and inform me that Luna resembles a person wearing a dog suit. Because I work from home, I’ve spent much more time with her than I have with my actual human partner, and every day I observe her mood shifting like the light in our apartment: she’s sleepy; she’s hyper; she’s on edge; she’s happy; she wants to be left alone. Like most dog-owners, I have developed an embarrassing voice that I use to ventriloquize her thoughts and feelings (as I imagine them, anyway), and, if Luna were docile enough to dress up in anything more complicated than a bandanna, I would probably style a full outfit for her every day.
This kind of behavior is fairly common—and there’s a thriving market aimed at it, as detailed in the Annals of Obsession video above. Tinkerbelle, a papillon-Maltese mix whose Wikipedia page describes her as a “canine model and internet celebrity,” has appeared in ads for Ralph Lauren, Febreze, Swiffer, and Target. “I just treat her as a person more than an animal,” her owner, Sam Carrell, says. “And I think that’s why she’s so successful, too, is because she’s not treated as an animal.” If you have the means, you can treat your dog not just like a human but like a rich and fancy one: Kerry Brown, the co-owner of the New York City location of D Pet Hotels, a “five star” chain of boutique dog accommodations, runs an establishment with a full slate of amenities, including night-and-day room service prepared by a private chef; a gym called Pant, where dogs can run on treadmills; and a selection of grooming options, including the Rich Bitch and the Suri Cruz. “Does a dog need a forty-two-inch flat-screen TV?” Brown asks. “No. They do not. But a parent knows that, by having that TV running, it will keep the dog company and help the dog feel more at home.”
Charismatic animals tend to receive an illogical amount of human care and attention. The sadness prompted by s of a polar bear whose habitat is shrinking often outstrips the sympathy generated by a climate refugee in the same situation. I can’t remember the last time I went to the doctor for a routine checkup, but I take Luna twice a year. It’s “problematic,” the dog trainer Annie Grossman says, “to treat them like we would want to treat a person.” Dogs are meant to be dogs; they evolved to hunt, to work, and to live in packs. “We give them everything they need. Is that really giving the dog the best possible life?” Carrell has a counterpoint, though: “If you have something, and you care for it, why wouldn’t you spend the money?” I looked at Tinkerbelle, in her pink jacket, and considered the fact that I cut my boyfriend’s hair in the kitchen, but Luna goes to a Brooklyn groomer where a wash and trim costs over a hundred dollars, with tip.