Two months ago I decided I wanted a beagle. Don’t ask
me why. Perhaps it was because I fell in love with a picture of a beagle on the
net and nothing would do but I had to get one.
There he is in the picture above, just two months old.
Thinking about a name for the puppy, I thought of Charles Darwin’s epic journey
in HMS Beagle. I could have called him Beagle, but then he is a Beagle – so I just called him Darwin. Irrational as the
association may be, the name stuck. So, that’s Darwin, but what about the
Janitor? Well, actually – that’s me. You might think I am the proud owner of an
expensive pedigree. In reality I am now just a toilet attendant for, as you
know, all puppies do is pee, poo, play and sleep. When he is awake I simply
follow him around with a bucket and a cloth.
It got me thinking about pets in general. By the way,
the latest thing is, you don’t call them pets any more, but ‘animal
companions’, which is interesting because it lends them a ‘human’ air and
points to the truth that they have become inexorably entwined in our
psychology. All the diverse phenomena we know about human relationships apply,
especially what we know about the transference. The transference is where an
infantile or childhood fixation is projected onto a present time person, more
especially someone who has become an intimate. The classical case, where it was
first discovered by Freud, is the patient who falls in love with the therapist,
bringing with it all the longing, conflict, pain, love and anger of the
original parental complex. In the projection of such an intricate emotional
situation onto a pet it is no wonder that many owners actually sleep with their
cat or dog?
Since Darwin has come to live with me I have to admit
that I don’t know whether I am the parent with a child or whether I am the
child with a canine parent. At first glance, the latter would seem to be
unlikely. How could I possibly be a child with a four month old puppy as my
parent? The answer doesn’t lie in the objective circumstance, but in my half
unconscious fantasies.
There is a belief that somehow the animal will look
after you. Dogs are renowned for their faithfulness, sticking by you no matter
what; even sitting on your gravestone until they starve. It has been known. There
are many sensible people who will swear that their cat knows when they are
feeling unwell and will come and sit by them in a caring way. Now, whether the
cat really does have such feelings, it remains true that it serves a fantasy of
the owner. I’m not saying that the cat’s solicitude is merely a projection of
the owner. I’m saying that whether it is or not, it satisfies the owner’s
fantasy, their desire for such devotion. And that is precisely the kind of
devotion that a good parent has for the child.
There can be no doubt that animals provide
‘transitional objects’ very much as the soft blanket does for the baby. Thumb
in mouth, while grasping in the same hand the well worn cuddle blanket, carries
forward the original attachment to the mother, just as the favourite teacup or
cigarettes does for an adult – not to mention comfort eating. Naturally, a
transitional object is preferably something you can put into your mouth.
Stories abound about the faithfulness of dogs. A
German Sheppard in Brindisi, Italy, has been attending her owner’s funeral
every day since she died. The dog arrives at the same church when the bell
rings to mark the beginning of service. The priest allows the dog to sit
through the service, as he has done for years.
Whether true or not, the veneration of such urban
myths testifies to a deeply felt human need and a truth I myself need to
recognise, rendering my new life with Darwin more dramatically poignant, making
his widdles on the lounge room carpet fill, as it were, a larger canvas.
Happy Christmas,
Stanley.
contact:
stanrich@vodafone.co.nz
(03) 981 2264
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