People and Pets

I was scratching Frassy behind her ears today, when it occurred to me to wonder how it is that people have pets. Dogs may have been adopted as hunting helpers and cats for rodent control, following our habit of bribing wild creatures to live alongside us by feeding them in exchange for milk, wool, eggs, or service. But today people who don’t hunt and have never seen a mouse still have dogs and cats in their homes. And what about gerbils, hamsters, parakeets – all manner of animate beings with no useful task to perform for us. 

How did this happen? I see domestication as something carried out by little girls, about seven to ten years old. Girls this age fall in love with baby animals, no matter how wild, and want to bring them home. Suppose the hunt has been successful, and while the grown-ups are busy drying meat and stretching hides, a little calf stands bleating at the edge of the firelight. Oh look, says Small Daughter, he’s so cute, can I keep him, please? Negotiations ensue, promises of care-taking are extracted, and the calf comes along home. The cultural attitude Small Daughter has to deal with today – maybe with an injured bird or abandoned baby squirrel – is different from what it was in a hunting camp 12,000 years ago, but it’s likely the emotional pull she feels from a small, vulnerable creature is the same, as much as our two legs, two arms, and large brains are the same. We’re built that way.

The remains of dogs and cats have been found in human graves from 12,000 years ago, valued and honored perhaps for their usefulness, perhaps for their companionship. We’re made for inter-relationships – we’ll even reach across species for them – we have pets because we have a need for interdependence. Frassy is very rewarding when I scratch behind her ears, leaning into it with the appearance of gratitude, and purring. Humans are more complex, harder to figure out, and most of us are not trying very hard right now. Emotional investment in our pets is lovely, but maybe we could look harder for things to value and honor in each other. 

Consider the Dandelion

For a plant with so many advantages, the dandelion gets little respect. Its bright yellow flowers, among the first in spring, are models of classic flower structure, and can be made into wine. The young leaves are the first salad green in my spring yard and cook up nicely with a little bacon and maple syrup, just like other sturdy greens.

The flowers can be left to ripen into puffballs for children – or me – to blow on, making wishes that scatter in the wind. True, this only helps the dandelion barge into places that belong to other plants, but its name, “dent de lion” – lion’s tooth – suits a bold, adventuresome nature.

But it’s this adventuresome nature that has consigned the dandelion to the category of Weeds. When I was growing up, having dandelions in your lawn was considered antisocial. The cure, spraying with chemicals, is not in such good repute today. Will dandelions escape their weedly reputation?

It takes more time and attention than we often have, to see a thing outside its assigned category, to stop and consider every leaf and petal in front of you instead of hacking everything with one hoe. I used to pull my dandelions. This year I’m letting them be.