the domestic zoo

I stayed home from church today because I’m feeling run down, and I spent most of the morning huddled under blankets trying to ward off the chill of the September air in our little house.

When mom got home from church, she saw me piled underneath two layers of fleece, and asked:

“Would you like me to turn the heat on?”

“We have heat?”

“Yeah, you goober. We filled the oil tank this week.”

“Oh…right. That’d be great.”

*shiver*

In our Primate Behavior class we’ve been talking a lot about anthropomorphism: What is it? Should we avoid it? How does it affect the way we view non-human animals? In our readings last week it was noted that Japanese primatologists are not as preoccupied with the notion of ‘objectivity’ as their counterparts in the West, and they regularly use anthropomorphic terms to describe the animals they are studying. During the class discussion someone asked if that was “wrong”, or if it just seems wrong because we’ve been enculturated into a Western mindset. Is it really such a bad thing to try to find commonality between ourselves and animals?

Perhaps not always.

I have an eight year old domesticated ‘house bunny’, and incredibly smart and playful little guy. This past week his companion rabbit (who was seven years old) became very, very ill and had to be put to sleep. It’s been an incredibly long and difficult week, and that decision was absolutely heartbreaking.

I decided to allow Rex time with Peanut’s body in the hopes that he would really grasp that she was gone, rather than her being taken away and never seen again. His behavior over these past couple days – barely eating, diminished activity level, spending all of his time on the blanket she died on, and otherwise acting far outside the norm for his personality – is what most rabbit owners would qualify as grieving. And I feel comfortable using that designation, maybe because it helps me to feel a connection to him. I am grieving too.

If I were to play Devil’s advocate I could argue that Rex was merely agitated by the presence of a dead animal. But if I allow myself to acknowledge his loss and his feelings of loneliness, being without a constant companion for the first time in over five years, then I open myself to the realization that perhaps he too is an emotional being. I remarked in class that I believe most animals possess a depth of intelligence that we humans rarely give them credit for (case in point: this same rabbit has demonstrated problem solving abilities). In all of my years living and working with a variety of animals, I would modify that statement to include also a depth of emotion that we may not always acknowledge.

Anthropomorphizing can be a way to enforce the idea of “humans as the norm” (that is, animals are really only valuable in the sense that they can be related to ourselves). But on the other hand, seeing ourselves in other animals can lead us toward a greater appreciation of them as sentient beings. So I ask once more: is that really such a bad thing?

I coaxed Rex to eat some parsely tonight; he made only a meager attempt to eat his dinner. I think that, in the end, giving him the chance to see Peanut one last time will have been better than simply taking her away, but he is taking it hard and my mama heart aches for him.

He was visibly shaken when he first saw her, and wouldn’t actually get near enough to touch her, simply examining her and then stepping back. The only thing that’s gotten him to come out of their cardboard hideaway tonight has been the blanket that was in Peanut’s crate. He was sleeping on it when I left for work.

Haley (on RO) recommended getting a stuffed animal for him to snuggle with. I don’t know if it will help, but I’ll look for one tomorrow. This is the first time Rex has been alone in over five years…

Heavenly Father, Creator of all things, thank you for having entrusted us with a loyal pet. We know that not even a sparrow falls without your knowledge, so we know that you are here with us today.

Amen.