Although your ideas and essays always resonate with me, this one resonates more so because Mollie looks a bit like my pup Odin, and I myself have been trying to make sense of my relationship with him. Once I figure it out, maybe I’ll write about it — you’ve helped to set my bearings.
More than anything, for me, personally, Odin is indeed about a blossoming of empathy and love. I tend not to think of our relationship along a trajectory of human evolution and cultivation in and of nature. And certainly for me, it’s not about a concurrent disconnect with nature (but, you know, that’s just me).
So generally failing to explain the love that way, I’m left to look at myself and how he’s changed me in our four years together so far. I’m seeing two big things (although I’m sure there will be more to come):
— Never having had children, Odin has allowed me to exercise emotional muscles I never knew I had, even in my human relationships. These are mostly about responsibility and caring for a being that depends on me for survival. I do, of course, see a parallel there with caring for the natural world in general that way. But that’s always been part of me. Maybe Odie has heightened and made me more aware of it. But more than anything, the emotional bond between us undeniable and powerful. I’m glad I’ve discovered it. It’s really all I need now — in him and in my relationships with humans.
— In practicality, probably more than anything, that new bond has pushed me further toward animal justice and veganism. It’s always been easy for me to have compassion for wild animals, for all living things and places. With Odin in my life, however, I can no longer ignore animal torture for our “benefit.” (I’ve read Peter Singer, of course, and Martha Nussbaum, and here on Substack Wayne Hsiung at Simple Heart — Wayne’s dedication and sacrifice in particular are truly inspiring.) I’ve always been aware of what I eat, trying my best to stay away from factory meat and foods that exploit people and the landscape (e.g. cash crops), which, unfortunately, are most foods. Lots more to be said here, I’m drifting off topic. But, basically, I now call myself a “capricious vegan” — sparingly eating only animals that had a good life and one bad day (and I’m working toward pure veganism). Odie has unwittingly allowed me to recognize that I cannot eat animals that suffered. Maybe that even makes me a more compassionate biologist and conservationist.
So, I don’t know that “keeping pets is a little weird.” Keeping a lawn is weird. The artifice of culture is weird. Neckties and high heels are really weird. And, yeah, I’ll even admit that the carnivorous plants I’m no growing in pots is weird (although I’m bonding in new ways with Venus flytraps — that’s REALLY weird).
In the end, yeah, I agree: “…the best use of our powerful imagination is not to shape the natural world for our purposes but instead to live intelligently, respectfully, and beautifully within its limits.” That is our moral responsibility. As for me, it seems so natural to do so with my partner Ruth and our unique love for a smart and flawed and free-spirited pup.
So much more to be said and thought about on this and our place in the world. Thanks, as always, for your wisdom on it.
Well, Bryan, I think you've accomplished more in your comment than I did in my essay. Thank you so much for exploring your Odin-enriched world here so beautifully. In my subjective data set, I think you're probably an outlier because you have a long life spent in service to the natural world, but for me it makes your description of Odin widening and deepening your empathy and love all the more powerful. (That's a novel that needs to be written: Devoted naturalist in love with the world falls even deeper in love because of his/her dog.) The connection with veganism is wonderful, and seems like a lesson that should be more common, right? What are the implications for a carnivore who feels this deep love for another species? (Sidenote: You probably should skip over the Roald Amundsen dogsledding section of Hoosh...)
My "weird" line is certainly another example of my broad-brush thinking, but I do feel there's an overlap between domestic(ated) animals and a cut lawn and potted plants. Certainly chokerags, stilettos, and the ten thousand other cultural artifices are weirder. And domestication goes back so far that maybe it's less human not to have dogs around... but a Pekingese in a purse seems too far removed from the wolf at the edge of the campfire light.
I will say, all this talk of Mollie and Odin has made me itch for a dog to scratch. I should probably pay attention to the fact that when dogwalkers come my way I ask to greet the dog but don't bother engaging with the people.
Oh, yeah -- no intent on my part to suggest you were off-track on the "weird" point. Sorry if I did. Yeah, it's indeed weird in context. In any event, I'm sure and and Heather miss Mollie a lot.
Wow, that's a perfect follow-up. Interesting that the writer focused narrowly on the contrast between our treatment of dogs and pigs. Likely more effective than comparing pet care to the cruelties of the global food system. I think I'll link to this piece next week. Thanks, Bryan.
Really enjoyed reading this thoughtful conversation between you both, following the essay.
Also, I can't help myself sharing this personal essay by Jody Mace with both of you, which is about dogs and diapers and the love but strangeness of working so hard to create homes that separate us from the natural world, immediately followed by inviting nature inside in the form of a pet (Jody is also a pretty funny writer, a skill I envy!): https://fullgrownpeople.com/2014/03/20/animal-house/
Excellent essay; I have a companion bird, Arya the Cockatiel. He is not my pet; he is my companion. He does have a cage, a rather large one, but the door remains open during the day where he comes and goes. At night I close if and Arya sleeps his requisite 12 hours.
During the day, he is free to fly around. We are very close; I talk to Arya and I listen to him when he talks to me. There is an understanding of equals. There is love. I did not always think this way, but living with a bird, an avian dinosaur, will make you a better human being.
Wonderful to hear you and Ariel have a loving companionship, Perry. I did not mean to say that such relationships aren't possible, but Heather and I both have witnessed caged birds who weren't so lucky. And I think some bird species are better able to form important relationships with people. Thanks for chiming in here.
I am not an optimist. I am almost a misanthrope in many matters but, slaver species that we are- incredibly, grotesquely cruel (boiling animals alive to eat) that we can be. We are also compassionate and loving. And we are just beginning to emerge from our cradle. With a fast accelerating bio-technology we may engineer the cruelty out of our nature and enhance the biophilia. We may recreate this horribly flawed Eden, where life must consume life to survive, where all must compete for the sun's energy- the strongest argument I know against the existence of a loving deity- into what it could and should have been. We will have that much power.
But first we must get through the Anthropocene, the Pyrocene, the Sixth Great Extinction. And it's unclear to me if we deserve to.
That's beautifully said, Michael. I would only add that all the tools of empathy and the tenets of wisdom we need are as embedded in our past as they are necessary for our future. These are cultural choices, and all cultures have some mix of compassion and cruelty. Maybe as you say we need to engineer the good stuff into prominence, but as with all the crises before us we have the answers already. Thank you, as always, for providing deep responses to my work here.
Life boxed and digitized, civilization that bulldozes, as parent replacement, indifferent bosses, a biophilic itch of eye and paw, of scent and sound.
Oh yes you nailed those experiences with elegance of spirit and not with the crudity of a Woody Allen cynical moment. You have taken us on a trip from the wagging tail to its message we call acknowledgment and love. As you move us with poetic skill to the garden, it is somehow a great sigh of relief to know that we are capable of putting ourselves in our proper place in the universe. Acknowledging that a tiny flick of the tail we no longer have ourselves.
Thank you for the trip and the reminder that love and humility go together and that empathy is the child.
I found this post fascinating, extremely well written, and very moving. As far as I understand it, dogs also 'found' us, as much as we found them, and our fates have been somewhat uniquely tied to one another for tens of thousands of years, if not many more. Our awareness of one another as species is arguably unique (from the human <--> other animal perspective). That relationship is bound to change as humans change, and change the world around us (per your gardening metaphor). The 'pet-owner' relationships is perhaps 'unnatural' in some ways, and as you suggest, escapist or denialist, but I'd like to think (and I think I'm agreeing with you?) that in some ways the relationship is one of most real things we have, if both the depth and the limits of that relationship are recognized and respected. I recall telling a therapist after the breakup of a long-term relationship that I thought I'd lost the ability to love... without saying anything, he pointed to my dog, who --because I could -- I took with me to these sessions, and was curled up on my lap. I lost him after 17+ years two weeks ago in a scenario that sounds similar to what you went through with your dog, and that was one of the most emotional experiences i've ever been through --despite having made another 'conventionally odd' decision to take him for mitral valve surgery in Japan 6 years ago. Looking forward to reading more .. and perhaps exploring these issues a bit more together, if you'd be interested. https://ethanchorin.substack.com/p/in-praise-of-newton-my-miracle-dog.
I'm so sorry for your recent, life-changing loss, Ethan. It's so hard, isn't it? The grief is certainly evidence for your reminder here, that these relationships are some of the most real aspects of our lives, assuming we're as devoted and attentive as you have been with Newton. And yes, as I just wrote in my response to Bryan Pfeiffer above, maybe the human-canine bond goes so far back that it might be more weird not to have a dog... It's such a rich bond, and rich history, that perhaps I've been too quick to assess its meaning, but if we step back and look at the full range of dog breeds and of pet-owner behavior, it does seem to overlap substantially with our other "gardening". I do think that recent generations have increased/broadened the circle of empathy, but doing do draws an even starker contrast with the still-common darker aspects of our relationships with animals. Thanks so much for this thoughtful comment.
So much to think about here, as usual. I'm going to give it another read after this. Just wanted to drop in and say, re Hakai, that there was a glimmer of hope in today's newsletter, if you haven't seen it. Sounds like they may have found some sort of bridge funder to keep them going into 2025 (as in, producing new work) but there may be a name change. So that would be weird, but it would be cool if the work were able to go on.
That's great news, Rebecca. May it come to pass. I've been thinking that some big marine science institution should adopt and fund Hakai, but I suppose they're not in the throwing-money-at-writers business... Thanks for the update.
As a veterinarian I'm embarrassed to say I'm not very well versed on the evolution of the relationship. It's fascinating to think of the earliest relationships... the most curious and least fearful wolves found us as much as we found them!
Virtually any species can see in another species a kindred spirit. For example a crow and a kitten raised together or a dog and an elephant can be inseparable companions. To watch these odd relationships is the only redeeming quality of the internet for me at this point 🤣🤣🤣
When thinking about our relationship to any living being or system it's obvious that the beauty is exactly balanced by the ugliness. Yin Yang. I'm embarrassed to say that at times I yearn for the destruction of the human species so that the suffering of everything else in our system can be mitigated back to its natural balance.
Thank you, Michael. I'm not particularly versed in the canine/human history either, but there's been fascinating work over the years. One I remember is a project in Russia domesticating silver foxes that chose the friendliest individuals in each generation and pretty quickly ended up with animals whose physical features were significantly different, more puppy-like. Crazy to see all those appearance genes associated with a tame personality.
And yes, the capacity within so many species to see beyond themselves and their kin to associate cheerfully with other species is wonderful. A video I posted in one of the recent road ecology essays spoke to that: a coyote and badger hunting together cheerfully near a tunnel road crossing.
I feel that the cascade of harms we've caused and are still accelerating - now amplified by a hotter climate - have begun to outweigh the beauty, largely because of so much loss in terms of both ecosystems and extinctions. Like you, I often feel that the living world would be far better off without us here, but I have to remember that it's the culture and the population size that are the problem. We're quite capable of living fairly innocuously, but not with this self-absorption and these numbers.
So many intricate details in this wonderful post. I am going to place Mollie in the very center. Where she belongs, past or present, she still belongs at the heart. Working outward in centrifugal force. Like the cross section of an ancient tree, each ring has a story to tell. You have already explored these stories , and I agree;
“The task for all of us is to continue broadening the circle of empathy outward “
But I also feel it all begins at the heart, yours and mine , with Mollie. We feel deeply for our animal connections. Bound together until it is our own time to pass. Like you and your wife, we do not have children, I will not compare the infinite love I have for my dog to someone who has children. I can only hope they feel the same as we do.
Paul Muldoon’s quote speaks volumes.
~”It seems that in poetry, as in life, animals bring out the best in us. We are most human in the presence of animals, most humble, and it is only out of humility, out of uncertainty, out of ignorance, that the greatest art may be made.”
Combined with this;
“…the world is filled with people who love their pets, who know that love in all its forms is essential to making a better world, and who are deeply devoted to reversing the Anthropocene tide. Pet owners often have a deeper sense of empathy…”
Ultimately, our resulting humility promotes a massive quantity of compassion, love, and kindness . We become better stewards of our world. To protect, to make better, to save. So our dog , cat or human family have a safe place to enjoy each moment.
I could write pages about our own dog family ( try and stop me😊). The time line of our life together is forever imprinted by the dog that stood by our side.
I will leave you with this; Because I know your life is more complete when there is a dog in your family, I hope you both will consider someday to add a new heart next to Mollie’s, who will always remain where she is now. In the center. You may find , if you quietly ask her what she thinks, she most likely will tell you, plenty of room in here for two…
Isn’t it amazing how the heart has the capacity to hold and keep safe so much love . For most of my life, I’ve had one hand on a dog.
Doctorate in play.
Comrades in chaos.
Master of the walk.
Partner of lazy. Sensei of naps.The perfect listener.
Caretakers of my heart.
Stand by my side.
From one dog family to another, there is still time for another. No , never the same, but new and worthy of your shared love.
Thank you so much for this lovely comment, Lor. I like especially your thought that we should ask Mollie what she thinks about another dog... We certainly think often about bringing another fuzzy, loving heart into our lives. Our hesitance isn't really about replacing Mollie; it's more the logistics, cost, commitment, etc. I'm heartened to hear from you and others here of how relationships with pets has enriched your lives and deepened your broader sense of empathy and caring. Yet I think that this puts you farther along the empathy curve than others for whom a pet is an ornament or afterthought. And I think there are as many types of human-pet relationships as there are types of people and cultures. But the ubiquity of pets speaks to some need within us, and offers a foundation for all of us to increase our capacity for love.
Really good, we've lived for decades now embedded in a changing pack of large dogs, cats and work horses we've used and still use to a degree for chores on the land. (A fair number of the dogs and cats of which have chosen us, you'd be surprised!) And the other livestock, yaks, pigs... Despite their core overlap with their wild brethren, historically we have always envisaged a broad divide between the wild examples and the domestic. The wild being meant to be replaced by the superior domestic versions, the wild landscapes with tamed ones. Only with the closing of the last frontiers has this attitude shifted - and with the luxury of easy energy making for easy lives. We better not hold our breath at any rate waiting for humanity as a body to become anything more than we already are or have already been. What you see with us is what will be. We can be smarter as individuals and families and maybe, just maybe, as smaller communities here and there, and that's how some of us may survive at least. Our predicament today isn't the result of us becoming more greedy or wasteful or destructive or reproductive or any of that than we were a millennia ago, our problem is an accident of energy, and that energy source is finite and it is going away. We in the meantime are the same ol' critter we've always been, and will remain so. Sorry to hear about your collie, we have lost a lot of dogs over the years and it is never easy and some are more special than others. The single most traumatic loss of my life was losing a fox terrier to a truck. Worse than losing biological family members. It's a dangerous world for dogs, the machine world. They share that with their wild brethren too. The danger of us.
This is all beautifully said. "The danger of us," indeed. And I love your line about wild animals and places being replaced with "superior" tamed versions. That unconscious assumption about a transformed world being a better world underpins our gardening (that's the cheerful metaphor) of everything. And I take to heart your larger point about humans not changing, either before this time or in the addled future. As I think I said to you before, the only good news in this mess is that people are amenable to change if the options for how to live are changed. The bad news is that we have far less experience in setting guardrails for civilizational behavior than we do in building faster, more powerful engines and wider, more dangerous roads. We need restraint, but it has to be sold as bigger, better freedom.
And I like your reminder that animals do choose us too. From the strays that recognize a good home to the wild fox that used to curl up under a friend's back steps, we can be adopted too.
"...Then the dense and towering forest teemed with ferocious bears, wolves, panthers, and venomous reptiles, as well as the more harmless multitude; and then fish and fowl abounded luxuriantly in their highest excellence. Let us indulge a momentary glance at the scenes of the aboriginal wilderness, only to rejoice the more gratefully that we live amid the innumerable blessings of a hard-earned civilization. The old savage grandeur and wealth of vegetable and animal life presents but a beggarly exhibition, compared with the fruits of cultivation and our manifold domestic animal wealth." - Adin Ballou, 1882. History of the Town of Milford.
Well, that's a song of the Anthropocene. Nicely chosen. So many of us new arrivals, then and now, unaware that tens of millions of people lived well in a wide variety of cultures in relationship with the land - managing it, in fact - rather than in a spasm of fear and decimation.
Not sure which Milford this might be, but am somehow doubting the population of venomous reptiles.
Not too relevant, but I'm reminded of a letter written home to England from Plymouth by a pilgrim who complained that they'd run out of beer and had to rely on "that barbarous drink, water."
Isn't that an interesting quote about the water. Knowing what we know right now about the sweeping deleterious effects of alcohol on the mind and body both even at modest consumption levels, a person then begins to wonder about its implications in our relationship with the planet. How differently we might have turned out in this regard had there been no such thing as alcohol.
I don't know if there is a Milford in Massachussetts but the quote just happened to be in a chapter i just read in revisiting Thomas Palmer's excellent "Landscape With Reptile" which is basically a journey into the maw of the anthropocene in development through the lens of a single species in a local landscape - the relict timber rattlesnakes of the Blue Hills on the fringe of Boston. Outstanding effort, that book.
There are Milfords all over the place, including my state of Maine. Anyway, I like your hypothetical about a world without alcohol. Who knows. Or if the colonial expansion by Puritans had included a prohibition on alcohol? Palmer's book looks fascinating. Thank you for the reference.
History teaches us that our tool-making nature is so deep-rooted and hard-wired that it often bypasses whatever compassion and ethics might restrain us from flattening landscapes, igniting billions of years of stored carbon, genetically modifying plants and animals, and enslaving each other. These are differences of degree on the tool-making spectrum rather than differences of kind.”
I really appreciate this kind of willingness to consider the lines we draw between actions like keeping a “nice green lawn” and destroying ecosystems to, for example, build new developments with huge houses only the wealthy can afford. Tool making spectrum— interesting concept.
Thank you, Sylvia. I often paint with a broad brush in this writing, trying to wrap my head and words around how we got to where we are as the driver of a disrupted world. Part of that is describing the world, and part is trying to understand our actions. This is definitely one of the latter, and I've long thought that this tool-making aspect was important. Thanks for paying attention.
Ok. I do try to pay attention to what matters. I like the “gardening” metaphor, especially as my identity as a gardener is one I am completely at home with. No question that gardening is a good thing to do. Of course it depends on scope, scale, purpose, methods, and proper uses of tools. After years of saying I only use hand tools ( except for the electric lawn mower on a cord) I finally graduated to a battery powered string trimmer for some weeding tasks around the two yards I take care of. For me, gardening is land managing on a small scale.
I know your post is about your dog, animals, and then expands to broader concepts. But all goes together in trying to understand humans as drivers “ of this disrupted world,” as you say.
Jason,
Although your ideas and essays always resonate with me, this one resonates more so because Mollie looks a bit like my pup Odin, and I myself have been trying to make sense of my relationship with him. Once I figure it out, maybe I’ll write about it — you’ve helped to set my bearings.
More than anything, for me, personally, Odin is indeed about a blossoming of empathy and love. I tend not to think of our relationship along a trajectory of human evolution and cultivation in and of nature. And certainly for me, it’s not about a concurrent disconnect with nature (but, you know, that’s just me).
So generally failing to explain the love that way, I’m left to look at myself and how he’s changed me in our four years together so far. I’m seeing two big things (although I’m sure there will be more to come):
— Never having had children, Odin has allowed me to exercise emotional muscles I never knew I had, even in my human relationships. These are mostly about responsibility and caring for a being that depends on me for survival. I do, of course, see a parallel there with caring for the natural world in general that way. But that’s always been part of me. Maybe Odie has heightened and made me more aware of it. But more than anything, the emotional bond between us undeniable and powerful. I’m glad I’ve discovered it. It’s really all I need now — in him and in my relationships with humans.
— In practicality, probably more than anything, that new bond has pushed me further toward animal justice and veganism. It’s always been easy for me to have compassion for wild animals, for all living things and places. With Odin in my life, however, I can no longer ignore animal torture for our “benefit.” (I’ve read Peter Singer, of course, and Martha Nussbaum, and here on Substack Wayne Hsiung at Simple Heart — Wayne’s dedication and sacrifice in particular are truly inspiring.) I’ve always been aware of what I eat, trying my best to stay away from factory meat and foods that exploit people and the landscape (e.g. cash crops), which, unfortunately, are most foods. Lots more to be said here, I’m drifting off topic. But, basically, I now call myself a “capricious vegan” — sparingly eating only animals that had a good life and one bad day (and I’m working toward pure veganism). Odie has unwittingly allowed me to recognize that I cannot eat animals that suffered. Maybe that even makes me a more compassionate biologist and conservationist.
So, I don’t know that “keeping pets is a little weird.” Keeping a lawn is weird. The artifice of culture is weird. Neckties and high heels are really weird. And, yeah, I’ll even admit that the carnivorous plants I’m no growing in pots is weird (although I’m bonding in new ways with Venus flytraps — that’s REALLY weird).
In the end, yeah, I agree: “…the best use of our powerful imagination is not to shape the natural world for our purposes but instead to live intelligently, respectfully, and beautifully within its limits.” That is our moral responsibility. As for me, it seems so natural to do so with my partner Ruth and our unique love for a smart and flawed and free-spirited pup.
So much more to be said and thought about on this and our place in the world. Thanks, as always, for your wisdom on it.
Well, Bryan, I think you've accomplished more in your comment than I did in my essay. Thank you so much for exploring your Odin-enriched world here so beautifully. In my subjective data set, I think you're probably an outlier because you have a long life spent in service to the natural world, but for me it makes your description of Odin widening and deepening your empathy and love all the more powerful. (That's a novel that needs to be written: Devoted naturalist in love with the world falls even deeper in love because of his/her dog.) The connection with veganism is wonderful, and seems like a lesson that should be more common, right? What are the implications for a carnivore who feels this deep love for another species? (Sidenote: You probably should skip over the Roald Amundsen dogsledding section of Hoosh...)
My "weird" line is certainly another example of my broad-brush thinking, but I do feel there's an overlap between domestic(ated) animals and a cut lawn and potted plants. Certainly chokerags, stilettos, and the ten thousand other cultural artifices are weirder. And domestication goes back so far that maybe it's less human not to have dogs around... but a Pekingese in a purse seems too far removed from the wolf at the edge of the campfire light.
I will say, all this talk of Mollie and Odin has made me itch for a dog to scratch. I should probably pay attention to the fact that when dogwalkers come my way I ask to greet the dog but don't bother engaging with the people.
Thanks again, Bryan, for such a thoughtful note.
Oh, yeah -- no intent on my part to suggest you were off-track on the "weird" point. Sorry if I did. Yeah, it's indeed weird in context. In any event, I'm sure and and Heather miss Mollie a lot.
No, I didn't think you were pushing back, Bryan, not at all. You took the conversation a little deeper. Thanks as always.
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/03/opinion/dogs-pets-animal-abuse.html?unlocked_article_code=1.AE4.Ijf1.wumWzQ3llQoV&smid=url-share
Wow, that's a perfect follow-up. Interesting that the writer focused narrowly on the contrast between our treatment of dogs and pigs. Likely more effective than comparing pet care to the cruelties of the global food system. I think I'll link to this piece next week. Thanks, Bryan.
Really enjoyed reading this thoughtful conversation between you both, following the essay.
Also, I can't help myself sharing this personal essay by Jody Mace with both of you, which is about dogs and diapers and the love but strangeness of working so hard to create homes that separate us from the natural world, immediately followed by inviting nature inside in the form of a pet (Jody is also a pretty funny writer, a skill I envy!): https://fullgrownpeople.com/2014/03/20/animal-house/
Excellent essay; I have a companion bird, Arya the Cockatiel. He is not my pet; he is my companion. He does have a cage, a rather large one, but the door remains open during the day where he comes and goes. At night I close if and Arya sleeps his requisite 12 hours.
During the day, he is free to fly around. We are very close; I talk to Arya and I listen to him when he talks to me. There is an understanding of equals. There is love. I did not always think this way, but living with a bird, an avian dinosaur, will make you a better human being.
🦜🕊🐦
Wonderful to hear you and Ariel have a loving companionship, Perry. I did not mean to say that such relationships aren't possible, but Heather and I both have witnessed caged birds who weren't so lucky. And I think some bird species are better able to form important relationships with people. Thanks for chiming in here.
I am not an optimist. I am almost a misanthrope in many matters but, slaver species that we are- incredibly, grotesquely cruel (boiling animals alive to eat) that we can be. We are also compassionate and loving. And we are just beginning to emerge from our cradle. With a fast accelerating bio-technology we may engineer the cruelty out of our nature and enhance the biophilia. We may recreate this horribly flawed Eden, where life must consume life to survive, where all must compete for the sun's energy- the strongest argument I know against the existence of a loving deity- into what it could and should have been. We will have that much power.
But first we must get through the Anthropocene, the Pyrocene, the Sixth Great Extinction. And it's unclear to me if we deserve to.
That's beautifully said, Michael. I would only add that all the tools of empathy and the tenets of wisdom we need are as embedded in our past as they are necessary for our future. These are cultural choices, and all cultures have some mix of compassion and cruelty. Maybe as you say we need to engineer the good stuff into prominence, but as with all the crises before us we have the answers already. Thank you, as always, for providing deep responses to my work here.
Life boxed and digitized, civilization that bulldozes, as parent replacement, indifferent bosses, a biophilic itch of eye and paw, of scent and sound.
Oh yes you nailed those experiences with elegance of spirit and not with the crudity of a Woody Allen cynical moment. You have taken us on a trip from the wagging tail to its message we call acknowledgment and love. As you move us with poetic skill to the garden, it is somehow a great sigh of relief to know that we are capable of putting ourselves in our proper place in the universe. Acknowledging that a tiny flick of the tail we no longer have ourselves.
Thank you for the trip and the reminder that love and humility go together and that empathy is the child.
Thank you for your kind words, Judy. Really appreciate it.
I found this post fascinating, extremely well written, and very moving. As far as I understand it, dogs also 'found' us, as much as we found them, and our fates have been somewhat uniquely tied to one another for tens of thousands of years, if not many more. Our awareness of one another as species is arguably unique (from the human <--> other animal perspective). That relationship is bound to change as humans change, and change the world around us (per your gardening metaphor). The 'pet-owner' relationships is perhaps 'unnatural' in some ways, and as you suggest, escapist or denialist, but I'd like to think (and I think I'm agreeing with you?) that in some ways the relationship is one of most real things we have, if both the depth and the limits of that relationship are recognized and respected. I recall telling a therapist after the breakup of a long-term relationship that I thought I'd lost the ability to love... without saying anything, he pointed to my dog, who --because I could -- I took with me to these sessions, and was curled up on my lap. I lost him after 17+ years two weeks ago in a scenario that sounds similar to what you went through with your dog, and that was one of the most emotional experiences i've ever been through --despite having made another 'conventionally odd' decision to take him for mitral valve surgery in Japan 6 years ago. Looking forward to reading more .. and perhaps exploring these issues a bit more together, if you'd be interested. https://ethanchorin.substack.com/p/in-praise-of-newton-my-miracle-dog.
I'm so sorry for your recent, life-changing loss, Ethan. It's so hard, isn't it? The grief is certainly evidence for your reminder here, that these relationships are some of the most real aspects of our lives, assuming we're as devoted and attentive as you have been with Newton. And yes, as I just wrote in my response to Bryan Pfeiffer above, maybe the human-canine bond goes so far back that it might be more weird not to have a dog... It's such a rich bond, and rich history, that perhaps I've been too quick to assess its meaning, but if we step back and look at the full range of dog breeds and of pet-owner behavior, it does seem to overlap substantially with our other "gardening". I do think that recent generations have increased/broadened the circle of empathy, but doing do draws an even starker contrast with the still-common darker aspects of our relationships with animals. Thanks so much for this thoughtful comment.
So much to think about here, as usual. I'm going to give it another read after this. Just wanted to drop in and say, re Hakai, that there was a glimmer of hope in today's newsletter, if you haven't seen it. Sounds like they may have found some sort of bridge funder to keep them going into 2025 (as in, producing new work) but there may be a name change. So that would be weird, but it would be cool if the work were able to go on.
That's great news, Rebecca. May it come to pass. I've been thinking that some big marine science institution should adopt and fund Hakai, but I suppose they're not in the throwing-money-at-writers business... Thanks for the update.
As a veterinarian I'm embarrassed to say I'm not very well versed on the evolution of the relationship. It's fascinating to think of the earliest relationships... the most curious and least fearful wolves found us as much as we found them!
Virtually any species can see in another species a kindred spirit. For example a crow and a kitten raised together or a dog and an elephant can be inseparable companions. To watch these odd relationships is the only redeeming quality of the internet for me at this point 🤣🤣🤣
When thinking about our relationship to any living being or system it's obvious that the beauty is exactly balanced by the ugliness. Yin Yang. I'm embarrassed to say that at times I yearn for the destruction of the human species so that the suffering of everything else in our system can be mitigated back to its natural balance.
Thanks for the thoughtful piece.
Thank you, Michael. I'm not particularly versed in the canine/human history either, but there's been fascinating work over the years. One I remember is a project in Russia domesticating silver foxes that chose the friendliest individuals in each generation and pretty quickly ended up with animals whose physical features were significantly different, more puppy-like. Crazy to see all those appearance genes associated with a tame personality.
And yes, the capacity within so many species to see beyond themselves and their kin to associate cheerfully with other species is wonderful. A video I posted in one of the recent road ecology essays spoke to that: a coyote and badger hunting together cheerfully near a tunnel road crossing.
I feel that the cascade of harms we've caused and are still accelerating - now amplified by a hotter climate - have begun to outweigh the beauty, largely because of so much loss in terms of both ecosystems and extinctions. Like you, I often feel that the living world would be far better off without us here, but I have to remember that it's the culture and the population size that are the problem. We're quite capable of living fairly innocuously, but not with this self-absorption and these numbers.
So many intricate details in this wonderful post. I am going to place Mollie in the very center. Where she belongs, past or present, she still belongs at the heart. Working outward in centrifugal force. Like the cross section of an ancient tree, each ring has a story to tell. You have already explored these stories , and I agree;
“The task for all of us is to continue broadening the circle of empathy outward “
But I also feel it all begins at the heart, yours and mine , with Mollie. We feel deeply for our animal connections. Bound together until it is our own time to pass. Like you and your wife, we do not have children, I will not compare the infinite love I have for my dog to someone who has children. I can only hope they feel the same as we do.
Paul Muldoon’s quote speaks volumes.
~”It seems that in poetry, as in life, animals bring out the best in us. We are most human in the presence of animals, most humble, and it is only out of humility, out of uncertainty, out of ignorance, that the greatest art may be made.”
Combined with this;
“…the world is filled with people who love their pets, who know that love in all its forms is essential to making a better world, and who are deeply devoted to reversing the Anthropocene tide. Pet owners often have a deeper sense of empathy…”
Ultimately, our resulting humility promotes a massive quantity of compassion, love, and kindness . We become better stewards of our world. To protect, to make better, to save. So our dog , cat or human family have a safe place to enjoy each moment.
I could write pages about our own dog family ( try and stop me😊). The time line of our life together is forever imprinted by the dog that stood by our side.
I will leave you with this; Because I know your life is more complete when there is a dog in your family, I hope you both will consider someday to add a new heart next to Mollie’s, who will always remain where she is now. In the center. You may find , if you quietly ask her what she thinks, she most likely will tell you, plenty of room in here for two…
Isn’t it amazing how the heart has the capacity to hold and keep safe so much love . For most of my life, I’ve had one hand on a dog.
Doctorate in play.
Comrades in chaos.
Master of the walk.
Partner of lazy. Sensei of naps.The perfect listener.
Caretakers of my heart.
Stand by my side.
From one dog family to another, there is still time for another. No , never the same, but new and worthy of your shared love.
Thank you so much for this lovely comment, Lor. I like especially your thought that we should ask Mollie what she thinks about another dog... We certainly think often about bringing another fuzzy, loving heart into our lives. Our hesitance isn't really about replacing Mollie; it's more the logistics, cost, commitment, etc. I'm heartened to hear from you and others here of how relationships with pets has enriched your lives and deepened your broader sense of empathy and caring. Yet I think that this puts you farther along the empathy curve than others for whom a pet is an ornament or afterthought. And I think there are as many types of human-pet relationships as there are types of people and cultures. But the ubiquity of pets speaks to some need within us, and offers a foundation for all of us to increase our capacity for love.
“…others for whom a pet is an ornament or afterthought.”
Oh, I know quite a few
of those ‘others’. Sorry for my post length. When it comes to dogs, it’s difficult to keep it short.
My husband is a bit more
‘in your face‘ about it. He wears a hat that says,
Dogs , Cuz people suck.
Really good, we've lived for decades now embedded in a changing pack of large dogs, cats and work horses we've used and still use to a degree for chores on the land. (A fair number of the dogs and cats of which have chosen us, you'd be surprised!) And the other livestock, yaks, pigs... Despite their core overlap with their wild brethren, historically we have always envisaged a broad divide between the wild examples and the domestic. The wild being meant to be replaced by the superior domestic versions, the wild landscapes with tamed ones. Only with the closing of the last frontiers has this attitude shifted - and with the luxury of easy energy making for easy lives. We better not hold our breath at any rate waiting for humanity as a body to become anything more than we already are or have already been. What you see with us is what will be. We can be smarter as individuals and families and maybe, just maybe, as smaller communities here and there, and that's how some of us may survive at least. Our predicament today isn't the result of us becoming more greedy or wasteful or destructive or reproductive or any of that than we were a millennia ago, our problem is an accident of energy, and that energy source is finite and it is going away. We in the meantime are the same ol' critter we've always been, and will remain so. Sorry to hear about your collie, we have lost a lot of dogs over the years and it is never easy and some are more special than others. The single most traumatic loss of my life was losing a fox terrier to a truck. Worse than losing biological family members. It's a dangerous world for dogs, the machine world. They share that with their wild brethren too. The danger of us.
This is all beautifully said. "The danger of us," indeed. And I love your line about wild animals and places being replaced with "superior" tamed versions. That unconscious assumption about a transformed world being a better world underpins our gardening (that's the cheerful metaphor) of everything. And I take to heart your larger point about humans not changing, either before this time or in the addled future. As I think I said to you before, the only good news in this mess is that people are amenable to change if the options for how to live are changed. The bad news is that we have far less experience in setting guardrails for civilizational behavior than we do in building faster, more powerful engines and wider, more dangerous roads. We need restraint, but it has to be sold as bigger, better freedom.
And I like your reminder that animals do choose us too. From the strays that recognize a good home to the wild fox that used to curl up under a friend's back steps, we can be adopted too.
"...Then the dense and towering forest teemed with ferocious bears, wolves, panthers, and venomous reptiles, as well as the more harmless multitude; and then fish and fowl abounded luxuriantly in their highest excellence. Let us indulge a momentary glance at the scenes of the aboriginal wilderness, only to rejoice the more gratefully that we live amid the innumerable blessings of a hard-earned civilization. The old savage grandeur and wealth of vegetable and animal life presents but a beggarly exhibition, compared with the fruits of cultivation and our manifold domestic animal wealth." - Adin Ballou, 1882. History of the Town of Milford.
Well, that's a song of the Anthropocene. Nicely chosen. So many of us new arrivals, then and now, unaware that tens of millions of people lived well in a wide variety of cultures in relationship with the land - managing it, in fact - rather than in a spasm of fear and decimation.
Not sure which Milford this might be, but am somehow doubting the population of venomous reptiles.
Not too relevant, but I'm reminded of a letter written home to England from Plymouth by a pilgrim who complained that they'd run out of beer and had to rely on "that barbarous drink, water."
Isn't that an interesting quote about the water. Knowing what we know right now about the sweeping deleterious effects of alcohol on the mind and body both even at modest consumption levels, a person then begins to wonder about its implications in our relationship with the planet. How differently we might have turned out in this regard had there been no such thing as alcohol.
I don't know if there is a Milford in Massachussetts but the quote just happened to be in a chapter i just read in revisiting Thomas Palmer's excellent "Landscape With Reptile" which is basically a journey into the maw of the anthropocene in development through the lens of a single species in a local landscape - the relict timber rattlesnakes of the Blue Hills on the fringe of Boston. Outstanding effort, that book.
There are Milfords all over the place, including my state of Maine. Anyway, I like your hypothetical about a world without alcohol. Who knows. Or if the colonial expansion by Puritans had included a prohibition on alcohol? Palmer's book looks fascinating. Thank you for the reference.
They should hold a "Which is the dullest Milford of all?" contest. I bet it would be a close race.
History teaches us that our tool-making nature is so deep-rooted and hard-wired that it often bypasses whatever compassion and ethics might restrain us from flattening landscapes, igniting billions of years of stored carbon, genetically modifying plants and animals, and enslaving each other. These are differences of degree on the tool-making spectrum rather than differences of kind.”
I really appreciate this kind of willingness to consider the lines we draw between actions like keeping a “nice green lawn” and destroying ecosystems to, for example, build new developments with huge houses only the wealthy can afford. Tool making spectrum— interesting concept.
Thank you, Sylvia. I often paint with a broad brush in this writing, trying to wrap my head and words around how we got to where we are as the driver of a disrupted world. Part of that is describing the world, and part is trying to understand our actions. This is definitely one of the latter, and I've long thought that this tool-making aspect was important. Thanks for paying attention.
Ok. I do try to pay attention to what matters. I like the “gardening” metaphor, especially as my identity as a gardener is one I am completely at home with. No question that gardening is a good thing to do. Of course it depends on scope, scale, purpose, methods, and proper uses of tools. After years of saying I only use hand tools ( except for the electric lawn mower on a cord) I finally graduated to a battery powered string trimmer for some weeding tasks around the two yards I take care of. For me, gardening is land managing on a small scale.
I know your post is about your dog, animals, and then expands to broader concepts. But all goes together in trying to understand humans as drivers “ of this disrupted world,” as you say.