Sunday, September 25, 2022

The animal-size hole at the center of modern life

I have a ridiculous dog named Walnut. He is as domesticated as a beast can be: a purebred longhaired miniature dachshund with fur so thick it feels rich and creamy, like pudding. His tail is a huge spreading golden fan, a clutch of sunbeams. He looks less like a dog than like a tropical fish. People see him and gasp. Sometimes I tell Walnut right out loud that he is my precious little teddy bear pudding cup sweet boy snuggle-stinker.


In my daily life, Walnut is omnipresent. He shadows me all over the house. When I sit, he gallops up into my lap. When I go to bed, he stretches out his long warm body against my body or he tucks himself under my chin like a soft violin. Walnut is so relentlessly present that sometimes, paradoxically, he disappears. If I am stressed or tired, I can go a whole day without noticing him. I will pet him idly; I will yell at him absent-mindedly for barking at the mailman; I will nuzzle him with my foot. But I will not really see him. He will ask for my attention, but I will have no attention to give. Humans are notorious for this: for our ability to become blind to our surroundings — even a fluffy little jewel of a mammal like Walnut.


John Berger, the brilliant British artist-critic, could have been writing about all this when he lamented, 45 years ago, modern humanity’s impoverished relationship to animals. “In the last two centuries,” he wrote, “animals have gradually disappeared. Today we live without them.”

On its face, this claim is ridiculous. Animals are everywhere in modern life. More of us own pets than at any other time in human history. We can drive to zoos, cat cafes, national parks, wildlife sanctuaries. We can lie in bed and share viral TikToks of buffaloes grunting, puppies howling, parrots taunting hungry cats. We can watch live feeds on our tiny phones of eagles incubating eggs or drone footage of polar bears hunting seals on 50-foot IMAX screens.

But Berger would argue that these things are all just symptoms of our lost intimacy with animals. None of them represent meaningful old-fashioned contact. Since the primordial beginnings of our species, he writes, animals have been integral to human life: “Animals constituted the first circle of what surrounded man. Perhaps that already suggests too great a distance. They were with man at the center of his world.” Animals were not only predators and prey — they were myths, symbols, companions, peers, teachers, guides. The patterns of their movement defined the edges of the human world. Their shapes defined the stars. They made human life possible. A few ostrich eggs could sustain hunter-gatherers for days — first as food, then as water carriers that enabled them to cross vast, parched distances... https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2022/09/21/magazine/animal-voyages.html?smid=em-share

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