My favorite animal on earth, what did we do to you?
You decided to get closer to us tens of thousands of years ago. You were the first animal we domesticated. You have provided immeasurable help — for hunting, for security, and later for saving human lives buried in rubble; you've saved humans from drowning; you help us herd, detect bombs, detect cancer… and so many other jobs. Your mere presence at our side brings us so much joy… You are the species closest to us, and our evolution, according to some ethologists, would certainly have been different without you.
But what have we done with you?
Today we humanize you — we put you in strollers, in baby carriers, in our beds, at the table with us… we have forgotten, or don't want to see, who you really are. We mistreat you. We mistreat you because we don't provide for your essential needs, because we refuse to see your true nature. Far from offering you a soothing presence and security, we have passed on to you stress and anxiety, which you express by screaming when left alone, by destroying things, by relieving yourself at home, by self-mutilating — and in many subtler ways your owners never even notice… We mistreat you, and yet we loudly proclaim how much we love you. We proclaim to love you, but we don't love you for what you are. We love what you are not, and what you will never be: a child, a human.
My fellow men dress you, take you to spas, celebrate your birthday — not understanding that your well-being and fulfillment lie far elsewhere.
When I began studying you, trying to understand you, more than 25 years ago, your owners were embarrassed — rightly so — to admit that they let you sleep in their bed. Today, on social media, they take pride in it, and are praised for it. And when you bite — when your nature calls us to order — you are blamed, abandoned, and, all too often, put down. You were guilty of showing a side of your reality that you're asked to hide, on pain of… death. I am deeply saddened by this, sorry for it, desperate about it — and it often makes me sick.
When will humans understand that imposing rules of life on you soothes you, makes you feel safe, and is not mistreatment — that it is, in fact, a profound form of care? When will they understand that walking you for two hours in nature, rather than wheeling you around the shops in a stroller, is what you actually need? They prefer to comfort themselves with illusions in which they find their own happiness and satisfaction, no matter what it costs you. And yet, listen to them whisper that they love you… listen to their friends telling them what great "pawrents" they are. And I — I am so sorry for you.
I am lucky to live by your side, and lucky to work with you and for you. For years, I have been explaining to owners who you really are, using every means at my disposal — quoting real specialists, like Patrick Pageat, who explains: "The notion of hierarchy contributes to a dog's well-being and balance. It is up to the owner to take responsibility for that role, and only then will the animal be happy. An animal that doesn't have to lead the pack will feel secure, since its needs will be taken care of. To be dominated does not mean to be humiliated — it means to be protected by the group, to feel safe." (Patrick Pageat is a veterinary doctor and a doctor of natural sciences, specializing in veterinary behavioral medicine in France. He is the founder and Scientific Director of IRSEA, the Institute for Research in Semiochemistry and Applied Ethology, and created the clinical teaching program "Behavioral Medicine and Consultation" at France's national veterinary school.)
Those echoes of truth seem to fade further away as louder and louder voices claim to care for the very animal they love.
Yes, they love you — but in such a harmful, horrible way.
