In the Matter of Therapy Animals, Choose Wisely

The examples of therapy pets bringing comfort to those who have come to count on them for emotional support are too many and too inspiring to discount.

They relieve stress, lift sodden spirits, provide companionship, and help the human on the other side of the equation feel like he isn’t a sole defender of his castle but has some troops, or one at least, on his side.

To these fine people these animals aren’t just pets but trusted friends and all an observer can do is to wish all species involved well.

Care in choosing your companion is recommended however. Not all animals are a natural fit.

Indeed, a certain number of them, if all the restrictions of polite society were somehow lifted, would eat us. This provides a kind of anti-therapy and is not recommended.

Others would squeeze us to death with their murderous coils, swallow us whole, trample us underfoot, poison us with a well-timed bite, carry us away as a protein snack for their children, pull us under the ocean’s mighty waves, again, eat us, paralyze us with a poison they just happen to have ready in their fanged teeth and store us away in the same manner that we used to carry quarters and dimes in our front pockets in case we had to make a phone call, tear us to shreds upon first meeting as a way of getting to know us, roll over us and crush us, and, as mentioned before, eat us.

We see in these cases that not all therapies work for each person.

These actions actually increase the average human’s stress level and cortisol counts in the bloodstream.

The individual is advised to choose wisely in this matter and tailor the selection to the circumstances.

A sturdily built gentleman of some 450 pounds who makes his living as The Strongest Man on Earth at the circus? By all means team him up with a baby elephant that he can carry on his back if need be and in fact incorporate into his act.

For a slight, older woman of a delicate disposition and unsturdy frame, such a choice would be the entirely wrong one.

Best fit for the circumstances is everything in these matters.

There is an underlying assumption that once you get past the actual man-eaters and life-throttlers and flesh-shredders and their ilk, then nearly any animal can serve a role in delivering comfort to the owner.

Particularly in the case of the pets that we grew up with or grow old with, they are assumed to be therapy animals practicing without a license you might say, talented amateurs that dish out the support without counting the cost to themselves, and never stinting on propping up the spirits of those whose dipsticks have come up dry when testing the spirit level.

Perhaps. Perhaps.

You could argue as well that there are certain pets that just by be being around make things a little bit worse, or a lot.

I had an iguana as a child – I was the child, I cannot speak to the age of the iguana – who made it an absolute point to look at me on those few occasions that he actually did look at me, with what I can only call a heavily ironic expression. As though to say, ‘there are millions of boys in this world, and I got this one?’

They look, iguanas do, if you didn’t know, separately at you with each eye. Always having to do everything different from everyone else, this is part of their manner by the way.

He would close one eye and look at me with the other as if expecting things to improve and then give that look of keen but not unexpected disappointment, as though to say, ‘ah, I thought not.’

And then do the same thing with the other eye.

He had a habit of circling his living quarters and then coming back up to the front to look at me again with his level and somewhat unnerving gaze to see if I had gotten any better – any finer I suppose, or any more fitting – but his disappointment upon each circuit was evident to any observer.

It’s all about him, you see.

This is hard on a young boy on the verge of manhood.

His place is the world is uncertain and he is not entirely confident that he has all the mental tools that he might need to compete in the Great Game of Life.

To be looked at in a supercilious manner by those closest to him is not only an affront but it knocks the legs out from under him.

Withering, that’s the word, withering. It’s like you’ll never be good enough for them no matter what you do.

I have seen pet turtles delivering the same expression, as well as several others in the reptile family. My studies in herpetology have not advanced to the point that I know whether these creatures sigh or purse their lips or shake their heads slightly as if not quite believing what they are seeing; all I can say is that if they could they would.

There is an entire species of pets, the felines, which more or less look down on you for a living.

They have somehow identified an ecological niche whereby they have complete contempt for the creatures that feed and care for them, a niche that many are surprised exists at all.

Nice work if you can get it!

Surprised or not, these creatures exploit it for all they’re worth.

This is at its very root an activity that generates unease and promotes a sense of insufficiency and lack of self-esteem.

We are all pleased I think that these interesting animals cannot speak, at least in any language that we can understand. I take it for granted that their conversations are of a cutting nature and show little kindness of observation and comment.

You would do better to go out into the world pursued by a bear or a python than to put your trust in a cat, who is just waiting to tell her friends about your shortfalls of character.

Dogs have, I think at least, an inflated reputation in this regard. Not all of them are the type to place their muzzle in your lap when your spirits are damaged and look up at you with their big brown eyes as though wondering what they can do to help.

Those types of dogs surely exist, but I have known morose others who themselves seem to labor under a powerful depression of the spirits, and if they look at you at all it is seemingly to inquire, “this is all you’ve got? This is it? This?’ Like Peggy Lee in that one song of hers.

If they were people it would be hard to get a chuckle out of them, much less a belly laugh. Many of them drink to excess too, which doesn’t help matters.

Ant farms too are to be avoided for those whose spirits or energy levels are subdued.

The individuals that I have known in the ant community seem to me to have the attitude of members of the congregation of one of the more severe sects of religion who expect a lot of a person and do not mind letting him or her know when he or she isn’t measuring up.

There is a certain air of “hey, you know what you really should do is be more like me,” as they go about their work cheerfully and cooperatively, and no doubt with a spirit full of confidence and a brain plump with healthy thoughts.

I cannot say honestly if ants scold or wag their legs towards you in a disapproving manner.

All I can say is they have a lot of legs to do it with, which can only amplify the effect.

As to the kraken, the vast tentacled beast who drew mighty ships to their doom as it submerged; Grendel, the murderous monster who was as apt as not to devour warriors sent out to subdue it as anything; Cerberus, the multi-headed dog who is said to guard The Underworld to keep the dead from escaping; The Hound of the Baskervilles; various werewolves, ravens, and homicidal orangutans from the annals of literature; and the assortment of rocs, griffins, basilisks, and manicores that populate ancient horror stories, well, best to take up the subject with your therapist first, just in case. Be specific in your discussions.

It is in the end hard to know what to do in these situations except turn to the only true friends in the animal kingdom that we have ever known.

Stuffed animals have a way of bestowing a loving look upon you, ‘accepting,’ that’s the word, accepting, they’ll take you as you are, never disappoint you, and are not demanding conversationalists.