I’m going to come right out and say it: I’m no animal lover. But that doesn’t mean that by definition I’m an animal hater. Most people with their beloved pets feel slighted if you don’t make a fuss over dear old Pongo or rush to stroke Fluffy the cat. They look at you sideways. What’s wrong with you? How do you not find them irresistible? Just look at how cute they are? Don’t you like animals? Well yes. But I couldn’t eat a whole one. Just kidding. I mean, yes I like them well enough, but from a distance. I have no natural urge to handle them at close quarters. I don’t want their nose in my food, or clawing holes in my tights or leaping into my lap demanding to be petted. What’s more, maybe I’m being too pernickety, but I don’t like the way their hairs stick to my clothes, sometimes working their way right into the weave. It makes me feel scruffy and itchy. I don’t want to look like I just rolled in the dog’s bed.
However it’s almost criminal to admit to any of this out loud; you may as well confess that you have no heart, no feelings, no humanity. It’s dangerous talk. So if you want to keep your friends you had better learn to connect with their pets, because if it comes to choosing between you and them, they’ll drop you in a heartbeat. You will never have the same claims on their affection as their dogs and cats. How could you? Do you rush at them, mad with happiness the moment they set foot through the door? Do you look at them with big adoring, soulful eyes? Do you have soft, silky fur that’s crying out to be nuzzled and caressed? Do you purr and arch your back with pleasure just brushing against their legs?
From the age of three I grew up in the care of a foster family who had a cat and two dogs: a corgi and a Jack Russell terrier. I had previously been in institutional care and had no experience or contact with pets at all. I suspect I was a little afraid of them and perhaps, as the new arrival, somewhat jealous of their natural place in this family where I was a stranger. I was never very confident around the dogs, especially Towser, the Jack Russell, who could be snappish and territorial.
One evening Towser was sleeping in front of the TV and I was asked to change the channel. These were the days before remotes, when you actually had to get up and manually switch channels. In trying to perform this manoeuvre I knew I would have to step over the dog. Sleeping he may have been but I was still wary. Hesitant, I stepped across him as gingerly as if he had been a land mine. The next thing I knew, the dog’s teeth were buried in my ankle. Howling with pain I lifted my leg with the dog still attached, its fangs sunk deep into my flesh. I remember not just the pain but the heavy weight of the dog dangling from my skimpy child’s leg. I can still see it hanging there, still hear my howls of distress. It took an adult to pry its fangs loose from my ankle before I was carried away sobbing to the hospital. Although well-faded, today I still have a little patch of puckered skin, a reminder of early dog trauma. And so I suppose that this is where it all started. I’m no longer afraid of dogs and I don’t mind looking at them, admiring their antics from afar, (Crufts Dog show is always a favourite) but as for close encounters of the canine kind I’m not a fan.
Cats on the other hand I’ve always found a little bit creepy, slithering about your legs or leaping unexpectedly into your lap demanding your undivided attention. Again, I can admire them, but I can’t warm to them. I brush them away, gently but firmly. What I’ve noticed about cats is that the more disinterest you show the more they just can’t seem to believe it. They are determined to win you over. What? Not crazy about me? Look at me, I ‘m a silky ball of joy. How can you not want to run your hands over my velvety fur? Nuzzle me like a comfort blanket? I know you want to. Go on. You know you do.
I don’t know if Covid’s to blame but it suddenly seems as if the world is being taken over by dogs. I was in a pub and there were no less than six dogs in the bar. One of them started to bark at something and they all joined in. Conversation was impossible but there were indulgent smiles all round. Dogs eh? You’ve got to love ‘em. It was like having a drink at the Kennel Club. A week later I was in a small rather intimate café where I spotted a little dog among the owners’ legs under a table. Soon there was another dog and then a family arrived with two big dogs. My first thought is: how fair is it to bring a dog into a place where they are surrounded by food that they can’t have? It’s not like they can read a book or play a video game to take their mind of all those alluring smells. I feel sorry for them, forced to lie quietly under the table while everyone around them is involved in the business of eating. It must be a kind of torture.
Owners caught up in the wonder of their pets smile at them indulgently and encourage you to do the same. Ask the grumpiest of them about Fido’s breed or age or habits and they are immediately light up; stroke and pet their animals and you see how the owner takes pleasure in your attention as if it’s an unspoken compliment to them too. You don’t need the studies to see for yourself how owning a pet is good for emotional health as well as physical and psychological.
So okay, I admit it. I’m not normal. I’m the freak that doesn’t coo and get dewy-eyed over a basket of kittens and puppies. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their cuteness, but the sight doesn’t trigger an affectionate response of oohs and aahs and the compulsion to speak about them in a baby-voice. What can I say? I’m a selfish, hard-hearted baggage and I deserve to be publicly pilloried for my lack of animal empathy. I see it as clinical condition that I’ve learned to live with; an abnormality that only a licensed practitioner can begin to cure.
Meanwhile show me a wildlife programme and I’m completely in its thrall. There’s nothing I like better than the sight of elephants and wildebeests dodging crocodiles around a water hole in the Okavango delta. Likewise the hunting rituals of wolves and big cats have me all agog. They don’t crave my attention or affection; they’re just out there in the wild doing what comes naturally. They are hunting, eating, mating, and protecting their patch without the need for my affirmation and admiration. Marvellous creatures!
On the small screen, far away and in their natural environment, that’s where I like animals best.
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