Anthropomorphism. Anthro is NASA for “man” (human, don’t get all uppity), morphism is Greek or Dutch or something, and means, “change,” or “a change,” and po is ghetto, meaning, “ain’t got no money.”
This ism is what we do to level the playing field when lost remotes and long red lights complicate our lives. We project human characteristics and motivations onto non-human things, making them predictable and allowing ourselves the room to strategize against non strategy. It gives lost remote controls attitude, flat tires volition, and God a throne to sit upon. (Really, why would a god need a chair? Because after gouging into our lives, like us, it must rest, too. I digress.)
Dogs. We most commonly project onto dogs. We more often kick cats, but dogs, we ism all over them. They follow us around awaiting bones, pats on the head, or quick shots up women’s skirts (that’s anthropomorphizing, because I would). But instead we shower them with an awesome gift, that of having human nature, and thinking just like us.
Which is what makes it so easy to handle them completely wrong. Dogs and kids.
Kids are po’ anthros, just like you and me. But that doesn’t mean they’re up to speed in the areas of volition and strategy, and it doesn’t mean the playing field is level. At all. But parents make assumptions anyway, and assume kids, remote controls, traffic lights and dogs are on the same level, and that when parents snap their fingers, dogs, lights, remotes and very small children all know exactly what’s up.
They don’t.
I noticed it with one couple long before they had their child. Let’s call them 1&2. 1&2 had no control over their dog. Let’s call this dog, “Dog.” Dog had a lot of energy, and didn’t give a single shit about whatever position 1&2 held in the alpha chain. Dog would jump up onto the table and steal food from people’s plates without compunction. Right in front of them! 1 or 2 might yell, “Dog! What are you doing? That’s rude!” But Dog didn’t give a crap (he still don’t). He’d just move from one unfortunate dinner guest to the next, only moving away from the dinner table to chew his catch in peace.
Dog went through a humping phase, and had so much time and free reign to hump that he even tried different positions. Dog grew fond of reverse dinner guest, and toyed with missionary dinner guest before growing bored with it and moving on to dinner guest role play. 1&2 would say, “Dog! Stop humping!” But Dog only heard, “Dog! How about a threesome?”
Dog has no boundaries.
Dog tried stealing food from my plate once, but was met with a painful nose grab. He doesn’t come near me anymore except to have his ears rubbed or his back scratched. If I’m eating, or humping my wife myself, he stays clear. But Dog, to this day, has no problem swiping food from tables and counters. And 1&2 yell “Dog!” thinking that doing so actually means something to Dog, which it doesn’t.
You see, 1&2 are projecting, or anthropomorphizing, in hopes that yelling “Dog!” means something to Dog, that Dog thinks, “Oh crap, I’ve really let them down and perhaps they have deep regrets about getting me as a puppy and bringing me into their home. I’d better change my behavior, or all this is going to go south in a hurry.”
But Dog doesn’t. It’s not enough that they’ve missed the boat on properly training Dog and connecting with Dog on a dog level, but they speak a wacky foreign language, of which, no doubt, Dog understands dick of anyhow. But he understands . . . sure as shit . . . what little Mexican I’ve taught him thus far. He’s pretty fluent in Anthony.
So it follows that when 1&2 had a child, and now 3 years into it, said child, let’s call him Child, doesn’t listen to shit, either.
Get-togethers at the home of 1&2 are interesting. I love 1&2, and consider them the best of friends. But having now both Dog and Child that don’t listen to shit is scary: Dog, because he’s constantly trying to screw you out of your food (which is a pain because 2 is AMAZING on the BBQ), and Child because he is always millimeters away from seriously fucking himself up, BECAUSE, he don’t listen to shit.
Child has a lot of energy. And if Child wants to run around over thin boards loosely laid over a deep and empty hot tub, Child is going to do so no matter how many times 1&2 tell him not to. In fact I noticed an increase in undesired behaviors in direct proportion to the increased intensity of corrective efforts from 1&2.
Tell Child to stay clear of the boiling oil on the BBQ and he dances closer under it. Tell him to share toys with others and he guards them more closely. Try to reason with him, and he’ll stand his ground, even go on the offensive with screams and growls.
Now, I don’t give a shit what Child, 1&2, and Dog do in the privacy of their own home. So long as I grab me some Dog lip and cause no uncertain amount of doggie discomfort, I’m communicating on a dog level – there’s little anthropomorphism involved, and I’m solid. But when Child is in my house being a potential danger to himself because he doesn’t listen to people telling him to stay away from various dangers, I’m taking issue.
And so I did. While at a BBQ at my house recently, Child challenged 2, and 2 gave Child a dose. Child started to cry, and 1 came running. When 1 gave 2 a ration of crap about it, I said directly to 1, “I’m not trying to tell you how to raise your kid. But your kid is kicking your ass.” And 2, sitting right next to me, didn’t exactly disagree.
Now, I’d mentioned the whole whacked-out language thing, and so I don’t really know the particulars of the conversation between 1 and 2 immediately following our exchange. But the crying and the tears and the terseness spoke volumes, and it was clear to me that I had broke trail and said what many had been thinking but were too PC to say – your kid is out of control.
2 was going to stay at my BBQ and ride home later, but 1 was having none of that. 1&2 were gone, and it looked like Child had assumed the lease on Dog’s house.
Chris is a friend of mine. He has a dog and 2 kids. I was around when he got his puppy, and I was floored at how he handled it. When a dog does something you want to change, you don’t reason with it by quoting Shakespeare. Chris knew to pick the dog up and turn it over on it’s back, putting it in a submissive position. That’s dog talk. Chris must have known quite a bit of kid talk as well because his kids are perhaps the most well behaved I know.
I don’t remember why, but 2 mentioned to me once, “Just you wait a couple of years.” I’m sure he meant that parenting isn’t as easy as I might make it out to be, and I’m sure it isn’t, and that in a couple of years when we may have kids of our own, I’ll get it. Which is why I’m writing this now, while I’m still clueless and it’s all funny to me. But mind you, in a couple of years, it will just be a different kind of funny – anthropofunny.
I read this yesterday and of course didn’t have enough time to comment before Willow woke up and now she’s firmly parked in front of the television watching Elmo so I can get a few minutes to wake up.
Anthony Godoy is a knock-around creative living in Seattle. He limits his Facebook friends list to friends, keeps his LinkedIn connections limited, and his list of accolades short. Because when the dog calls the cat’s bluff, it’s all over but the crying.