People and Their Pets

 I woke up again. It was morning. Though my apartment faces east, the sun’s rays hit my window from the side, but as it rose, its light crept closer and closer to me, lying in my cozy bed, thinking about how I overate again last night. Yesterday evening, I ate a four-cheese pizza… alone… the whole thing. In the past, I’d have called that a snack, but now, since I don’t wash down food with alcohol and eat much less than a few years ago, that pizza feels like something clearly excessive, and I feel tired even after sleeping.

For some reason, I remembered two dogs I saw in the elevator yesterday. They were small, one white, one brown—I don’t know their breeds; I’m not great with that. Some woman was walking them outside and was heading back home. Since it’s winter, the dogs wore special dog vests, but what caught my eye most was their dog shoes. I don’t even remember if I’ve seen dogs in shoes before. I got curious about how sensitive dogs’ paws are to cold. It was only a few degrees below zero, and I thought those odd little bags on their paws were more of a hindrance than a help. You could see they were trying to get used to the shoes as best they could, but it wasn’t working—their movements were still comically awkward. I don’t think those dogs really wanted to wear shoes. In that case, their owner did. She probably thought it was better for them because wearing shoes is good for her. I’ve noticed people try to humanize everything. The more they “love” something, the more they try to make it like themselves, killing the individuality of the object of their “love,” whether it’s an animal, an item, or even another person.
For a simple example, take a toy, like a wooden soldier called a nutcracker. Ignoring the doll’s story, it’s not just a toy but a tool for cracking nuts. If you think about it, what makes this object a toy, a tool, or a character? Only my imagination. In reality, it’s just a carved piece of wood, assembled and painted a certain way. Only I decide how to use it. On its own, it does nothing useful—or rather, nothing at all. It can only decay. From a practical standpoint, I see no value in this object for the world. Even worse, to make lots of objects useless to the world, people cut down many (truly alive, compared to the toy) trees. And that’s not counting the environmental damage from transportation and paint production. Essentially, humans took something alive, made something dead, harmed the planet in the process, and poured their imagination into it to fawn over it. It sounds absurd. But that’s how it is. We do tons of absurd, foolish, even cruel things to feel some emotions. Are emotions that flare up like a match and fade just as fast really that important to us? I think it’s not just about emotions but also feelings. Often, people seek feelings outside themselves—in what they love, hate, or despise, in something or someone, but not in themselves. It’s strange because I feel feelings inside myself, yet I often try to find them where I’m not. Take New Year’s, for example. It’s always been a big holiday. On that night, you’re supposed to be joyful, exchange good wishes, and give gifts. I don’t know why; no one told me. I think it’s about letting go of the old year and embracing change in the new one. But why this process is tied to a specific date and whether that date suits everyone for such actions, I don’t know. For many, this holiday is tied to warm, cozy feelings. The tree, gifts, fireworks, tangerines, champagne, jingle-bell music, New Year’s movies that change each generation (I only learned this year that Harry Potter is considered a New Year’s movie). These are all holiday attributes that become associations I try to pour my feelings and experiences into. But those feelings don’t live in the holiday items. They’re in me. I can see a decorated tree and feel nostalgia, but that feeling awakens not in the tree but in me. So, I can summon those feelings without a festive tree. This means I can evoke any feelings I’ve felt before. All I need is to learn to do it without external triggers. Is that important? Yes, very. Why? I’d call it a kind of freedom. Feelings are a vast, deep topic I’ve yet to explore, but I can pick up some surface thoughts now. I think feelings and desires are closely linked. I’ve noticed people often crave a specific feeling and are willing to suffer their whole lives for it. The saddest part is they often don’t realize it’s just for a feeling they could experience any day of the week. For example, someone wants to be rich—a standard desire in the modern world. People want it so badly they forget why they really need it. Some want to feel secure, others want recognition, freedom, revenge, or to prove something. But money is an external factor and can only solve external problems. Someone who wants security through money won’t stop fearing; their fears will just change. Someone seeking recognition won’t stop noticing sidelong glances, even if they buy others’ smiles. Someone who trades freedom for money becomes its slave. Understanding the nature of your desires is key to not wasting time on nonsense. Human life isn’t long enough to spend on meaningless things. That’s why I see something wrong when people try to humanize animals. They train them, dress them, try to create a good life for their pets. I see a problem in this. Most people think they’re caring for their animals by trying to kill their nature. How can you fool yourself into thinking you’re giving your pet the most important thing—care and love—when you need those yourself? How can you give someone what you lack? Why assume your pet needs the same as you? Many will say, “As long as the pet is happy, the rest doesn’t matter,” and I’d probably agree. But if you have a dog, how do you know what dog happiness is? Shouldn’t you give the dog a chance to find its own happiness instead of imposing your ideals? Most people can’t find their own happiness, so how can they know what happiness is for a completely different species, like a dog? Yes, pets may look joyful and content, but that doesn’t mean they’d be unhappy in the wild. If you look closely, we’re just projecting our lifestyle onto other animals. People train dogs for their own needs. They raise dogs from a young age, leaving them no choice but to be “man’s friend,” which is essentially slavery. Clothes, houses, toys, food, medicine, training, work, care, restaurants, salons, shows, hotels, even dog weddings. Yes, it really sounds like it’s all for the pets, for their sake. But it’s time to realize: almost always, we do it for ourselves, not them. It’s like an unconscious experiment. People seem to want to put pets in their own conditions for some reason. We’ve humanized them so much that we’re not that different. We, too, often have lives imposed on us with no choice. We’re trained for various tasks. We’re cared for our whole lives, given an illusion of freedom and care, hiding control behind it all. We can’t roam wherever we want either. It’s like, instead of finding our freedom, we take it from others.

I’ve noticed I have lots of opportunities to have things but few to refuse them. It feels like I’ve been given everything I need, but something truly important was taken away. No, that’s not it. I gave it away myself.