Your own pet is never “just a dog.”
Recently, my wife and
I went through one of the more excruciating experiences of our lives — the
euthanasia of our beloved dog, Murphy. I remember making eye contact with
Murphy moments before she took her last breath — she flashed me a look that was
an endearing blend of confusion and the reassurance that everyone was ok
because we were both by her side.
Research has confirmed that for most people, the loss of a
dog is, in almost every way, comparable to the loss of a human loved one.
When people who have
never had a dog see their dog-owning friends mourn the loss of a pet, they
probably think it’s all a bit of an overreaction; after all, it’s “just a dog.”
However, those who
have loved a dog know the truth: Your own pet is never “just a dog.”
Many times, I’ve had
friends guiltily confide to me that they grieved more over the loss of a dog
than over the loss of friends or relatives.
Research has confirmed that
for most people, the loss of a dog is, in almost every way, comparable to the
loss of a human loved one.
Unfortunately,
there’s little in our cultural playbook — no grief rituals, no obituary in the
local newspaper, no religious service — to help us get through the loss of a
pet, which can make us feel more than a bit embarrassed to
show too much public grief over our dead dogs.
Perhaps if people
realized just how strong and intense the bond is between people and their dogs,
such grief would become more widely accepted. This would greatly help dog
owners to integrate the death into their lives and help them move forward.
An interspecies bond like no other
What is it about
dogs, exactly, that make humans bond so closely with them?
They’re the only animal to have evolved specifically to be
our companions and friends.
For starters, dogs
have had to adapt to living with humans over the past 10,000 years. And they’ve
done it very well: They’re the only animal to have evolved specifically to be
our companions and friends. Anthropologist
Brian Hare has developed the “Domestication Hypothesis” to
explain how dogs morphed from their grey wolf ancestors into the socially
skilled animals that we now interact with in very much the same way as we
interact with other people.
Perhaps one reason
our relationships with dogs can be even more satisfying than our human
relationships is that dogs provide us with such unconditional, uncritical
positive feedback. (As the old
saying goes, “May I become the kind of person that my dog thinks I
already am.”)
This is no accident.
They have been selectively bred through generations to pay attention to people,
and MRI scans show that
dog brains respond to praise from their owners just as strongly as they do to
food (and for some dogs, praise is an even more effective incentive than food).
Dogs recognize people
and can learn to interpret human emotional states from facial expression alone.
Scientific studies also indicate that dogs can understand human
intentions, try to help
their owners and even avoid
people who don’t cooperate with their owners or treat them
well.
Not surprisingly,
humans respond positively to such unqualified affection, assistance and
loyalty. Just looking at dogs can make people
smile. Dog owners score
higher on measures of well-being and they are happier, on
average, than people who own cats or no pets at all.
Like a member of the family
Our strong attachment
to dogs was subtly revealed in a recent study of
“misnaming.” Misnaming happens when you call someone by the wrong name, like
when parents mistakenly call one of their kids by a sibling’s name.
The loss of a dog can also seriously disrupt an owner’s
daily routine more profoundly than the loss of most friends and relatives.
It turns out that the
name of the family dog also gets confused with human family members, indicating
that the dog’s name is being pulled from the same cognitive pool that contains
other members of the family. (Curiously, the same thing rarely happens with cat
names.)
It’s no wonder dog
owners miss them so much when they’re gone.
Psychologist Julie
Axelrod has pointed out that the loss of a dog is so painful
because owners aren’t just losing the pet. It could mean the loss of a source
of unconditional love, a primary companion who provides security and comfort,
and maybe even a protégé that’s been mentored like a child.
The loss of a dog can
also seriously disrupt an owner’s daily routine more profoundly than the loss
of most friends and relatives. For owners, their daily schedules — even their
vacation plans — can revolve around the needs of their pets. Changes in
lifestyle and routine are some of the primary sources of stress.
According to a
survey, many bereaved pet owners will even mistakenly interpret
ambiguous sights and sounds as the movements, pants and whimpers of the deceased
pet. This is most likely to happen shortly after the death of the pet,
especially among owners who had very high levels of attachment to their pets.
While the death of a
dog is horrible, dog owners have become so accustomed to the reassuring and nonjudgmental
presence of their canine companions that, more often than not, they’ll
eventually get a new one.
So yes, I miss my
dog. But I’m sure that I’ll be putting myself through this ordeal again in the
years to come.
This article is
republished from The Conversation under a
Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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