This Is Killing Our Pets

Animals really are a gift to humanity. Whether you're religious or secular, vegetarian or meat-eating, environmentally conscious or not, we could all agree that the Animal Kingdom serves a vastly important purpose in our sustained existence. They provide a balanced ecosystem, function as food for hunters (as arguably inhumane as that is), and even companionship.

The latter, however, comes from those we've decided to domesticate. This practice, don't get me wrong, has been and can continue to be a very positive thing. But it must be done with respect. To those who believe that man is unilaterally superior to nature and has full supremacy over it and to those who believe nature is unequivocally superior to man and ought to be worshipped for its infinitely overpowering majesty -- you're both wrong. Man, for instance, has the ability to reshape nature, which is proven by accelerated global warming, deforestation, domestication, pollution, or even artificial storms in Dubai and Abu Dhabi (it's real, look up "cloud seeding"). But, at the same time, man is entirely helpless when it comes to the whims of hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis, earthquakes, sun flares, meteor strikes, and universal entropy.

So to say that domesticating animals is an affront to the divinity that is nature is incorrect, but to say that it can be done without limitations or rationale so long as it benefits mankind, and to expect no environmental repercussions, is absolutely ludicrous.

With that in mind, we, as humans, have to be extremely careful when domesticating animals, not only because they are wild and we could endanger ourselves, but also because we could forget our place as mere humans and play God, which, regardless of your religious beliefs, will invariably and inevitably end poorly for us. Acting as though we aren't beholden to any of our existential limitations is incredibly unwise and self-destructive.

When it comes to our cats and dogs, two of the most ubiquitous domesticated pets, there are plenty of instances where we are overstepping our bounds as parts subject to and apart from that of the Animal Kingdom. Has there been some sort of naturalistic symbiosis forming between canines and homo sapiens, and felines and homo sapiens, respectively, for a very, very long evolutionary time? Definitely. Dogs possess strong tendencies of loyalty and have helped humans hunt and protect themselves, while cats have helped ancient peoples like the Egyptians preserve grain by killing rodents. However, has humanity simultaneously forced cats and dogs into a position that has eradicated their biological independence and wiped away their evolutionary identity? Almost 100%.

Breeding is one of the largest contributors to this problem. It is believed that dogs were first domesticated at least 15,000 years ago and were beginning to be selectively bred 9,500 years ago. This was likely for making breeds that could hunt better, swim better, carry supplies, herd cattle, survive colder climates, or warmer ones, or protect people more effectively, which are fine reasons but once again begins to encroach a bit beyond humanity's ontological jurisdiction. But when they are bred for aesthetic reasons, for shows, or just plain convenience, more problems arise. Dogs like these tend to have lower longevities and, especially those with shorter snouts, breathing problems.

Cats too have been bred to be smaller so that they can be kept inside and both types of pets are too often declawed, spayed, neutered, medicated, and anthropomorphized beyond recognition. While each of these things has made cats and dogs more agreeable to our modern, sanitized societies, since they pose no possible physical threat to people anymore, they are no longer cats or dogs. They are caricatures and parodies of what they once were. They are notional canines and felines. We've fabricated and placed into our homes furry ideas of wolves and panthers that have no evolutionary identity. We've erased their biological existence and replaced it with one that suits our whims and desires.

When we choose to feed them trashy kibble whenever we decide, they lose the need to hunt. When we dress them up in clothes, they lose the need for fur. When we put little shoes on them, they lose the need for paw pads. When we push them around in strollers, as they get tinier and tinier from our abominable artificial breeding, they lose the need for legs.

While I think it is totally fine that we love our pets and take care of them and maintain that symbiotic companionship (because they really are a gift from God and nature), it isn't cute when they can't breathe or eat or walk without pain. We decided to play God and breed wolves and leopards into fuzzy balls of nothing that couldn't fight off a fly. And it's not fair that they have to suffer for our sins against nature.

So while the most I would do is get my dogs vaccinated against rabies and feed them whatever the heck dog chow is (though I will occasionally throw some real meat in their diet), I'm not going to declaw, neuter, or medicate my dogs. Nor will I dress them up like babies and do photoshoots while they're suffering. We don't even deserve their companionship at this point anyway. I'd honestly rather be painfully scratched and bitten while we're playing than face the toothless, clawless, anesthetized, sterilized, safe-for-work non-animal as an alternative.

So go let Sparky run before he fades into a sentient ball of fur.