An Anthrozoologist’s Obligation?

Having spent all my days - save for a two-month stint working at an amusement park in Ohio - living in Michigan, I am traversing the country in just two short weeks to settle into my new life in Atlanta. This, of course, means leaving my government public health job for hopefully greener pastures. As I searched for employment opportunities this morning, I found a job in Animal Behavior Management. The good news is that I have studied both evolutionary and applied animal behavior and can construct a mean ethogram with the best of ‘em. The bad news is that the job was at a primate research center. One that conducts not only social and behavioral research, but biomedical research.

Eep.

“It will be fine,” I told myself. “All I have to do is observe behavior, design some enrichment activities, and train them using positive reinforcement techniques.” I reassured myself that nothing in the listing indicated I would be working with procedures involving invasive surgeries or painful testing; the sooty mangabeys I’d be working with would not be subjected to physical intrusion of their bodies. I started to write my cover letter.

And stopped.

Being the thorough – some may say obsessive – researcher that I am, I typed the facility’s name into Google. The Wikipedia article was fairly neutral, as they tend to be, but several things stopped me in my tracks. Criticism from leading primatologist Jane Goodall. Animal Welfare Act violations. An employee death. I immediately scrapped my cover letter.

Biomedical research on animals, particularly nonhuman primates, is a complex and controversial issue. Many people still do not have a fully fleshed out stance on it. I am not here to debate the pros and cons of the issue, but to reflect upon my decision to withdraw my application from an academic standpoint.

As an anthrozoologist in training, I see it as my duty to examine issues from all sides. I can (and have) read both pro- and anti-biomedical testing literature. I can try to be as objective as possible, refraining from emotional whitewash and appeals to my sensitive side, which I admit, is far from easy. Ultimately, this did not happen today. When I asked myself why I closed Word and didn’t save the letter, my exact thought was, “I don’t want to be surrounded by all that pain.”

Did I throw away a potential learning opportunity? Absolutely. Do I need to be in the thick of things to fully understand them? Maybe. Therefore, was I wrong from the standpoint of being a “good” anthrozoologist? Perhaps, but not necessarily.

Must ethical vegetarians work in a slaughterhouse? Must pro-life obstetricians perform abortions? Most people would say “Of course not!” and they would be correct. Categorical opposition to a belief or practice does not need to be rooted in experience; we can’t possibly experience everything objectionable in this world. That doesn’t mean we can’t stand against it. I still can’t help but think I’m missing an opportunity to gain a new perspective, but ignoring the pit deep in my stomach when I think about working in this environment may be an even bigger mistake.

Gratitude

As my first semester winds down to an end, and as the wistful holiday season nears, I think of all the things I am grateful for.

I am grateful that I found the MS program in Anthrozoology at Canisius College – that I logged onto Facebook that April day, and that the Animals and Society Institute announced its presence.

I am grateful for my divine husband and number-one-fan mother, who encouraged me to go for this degree, no holds barred, no strings attached.

I am grateful to the faculty for being so invested in the students and program, and for continually molding it according to our needs and wants. I have never felt so academically nurtured, and I know these are relationships I will sustain well beyond graduation.

In a similar vein, I am grateful for all of the new friends I’ve made – the classmates who make me laugh on Facebook while challenging me to think on our discussion boards. I am so lucky to have joined a cohort of thoughtful, talented people. My program director refers to us all as “new best friends” …what a lovely concept, and one that is evolving, even as we are miles away from one another.

I am grateful that I’ve found something I love. That I actually look forward to doing homework. That I have a stack of books to read that are related to my field and cannot wait to dive in. That as I learn new concepts, I can integrate them into daily life and have interesting conversations about the discipline that renders me as enthusiastic as a child. (Ask me about the male anglerfish sometime.)

Last but not least, I am grateful for the animals in my life, the ones who live with me currently and the ones who have passed. You have inspired in me love, curiosity, wonderment, delight, sorrow, laughter, and everything in between. Many thanks to Annie, Quinn, Thacker, Monty, Dexter, and Miles for the joy you have brought me.

Veterinary obligations: Client or patients?

A few weeks ago, one of my class questions was about negative experiences with the veterinary profession. I can't, thankfully, think of many of my own. However, one negative about the veterinary arena that I can think of involves voluntary procedures. My husband and I were talking about veterinarians a few weeks ago, and he said that all the vets he’s ever known had an air of sadness about them. He explained that he was talking about the toll that it must take on veterinarians when they cannot help animals that are so loved and well-cared for. I originally took it as a statement about the toll it must take to see the worst of humanity – people who abuse their animals, or who euthanize perfectly healthy pets. My oldest friend, a vet in Washington, adopted a dog during her internship. The dog had been hit by a car, and his owners brought him in for care. His injuries were easily treatable, but they told her they wanted him euthanized. The cost difference between euthanasia and treatment was about $40 – a sum probably easily absorbed for wealthy people driving a Hummer. Thankfully, my friend was able to intervene and take him home, but how many of these does she see per day? How many dogs/cats can vets save from this fate? Behavioral issues are also a huge source of euthanasia for healthy pets. The cat isn’t peeing on the carpet in a vacuum – there’s a reason behind it, and if people truly were invested in working with their pets, they could solve so many issues. Vets must also make decisions regarding whether they will perform controversial procedures such as declawing, tail docking, ear cropping, debarking, etc. It becomes a question of whether the vet should do what he or she believes best for the animal or what the client requests. 

I’d like to think it could be a matter of personal ethics; if a vet is against these procedures, he or she can simply elect not to perform them. But maybe it’s not that simple. In my brief flirtation with thoughts of becoming a vet, I’d always said I wouldn’t perform certain procedures, that I couldn’t have them on my conscience. In the course of veterinary education, is this trained out of people? The AVMA’s Principles of Veterinary Medical Ethics* claims that “The veterinarian-client-patient relationship (VCPR) is the basis for interaction among veterinarians, their clients, and their patients.” In this statement, clients come first. Is this a bellwether of treatment priorities, or is it simply a coincidence?

* http://www.avma.org/issues/policy/ethics.asp

What's in a Name?

“Anthrozoology” and “animal studies” are both terms given to the broad field of human and other-than-human animal relationships. They are seemingly interchangeable, but each presents its own problems, linguistically speaking.


Hurn* (2010) contends that anthrozoology is a misnomer because of the emphasis placed on “zoology” as the suffix and “anthro” as the modifier. She claims that “…Many anthrozoologists from the social sciences have no more than a passing knowledge of the ecology, behaviour, physiology and so on of the non-human animals who populate their studies” (p. 27). Hurn goes on to propose that anthrozoology would be an appropriate term for studies that emphasize the human aspect and downplay the animal side, in effect “objectification” (p. 27) of the animals, as she suggests is the case in traditional zoology. “Animal studies,” Hurn argues, places animals above humans, painting them as “autonomous actors in their own right” (p. 27) that until recently have been largely ignored in academia. She believes that “human-animal studies” is a more appropriate term for the field that studies both humans and animals equally.


Others contend that the term “human-animal studies,” by placing humans before animals, unduly emphasizes the human aspects of the field. “Animal studies” may be more neutral (though still somewhat ambiguous) and includes humans by definition.


Personally, aside from anthrozoology – a term with which most people are not familiar – I believe that “human-animal studies” is the best compromise. Though I disagree with some of her points, I believe that Hurn is correct when she states that “The hyphen in ‘human-animal studies’ places all of the research subjects on a level playing field, recognizing the interconnectedness between humans and our fellow living beings” (p. 27).


Inevitably, when I tell somebody that I’m studying anthrozoology, they get a confused look on their face. I then tell them that it’s also known as human-animal studies, which tends to clear things up. Most still want at least a little more explanation, but I can see the light bulb go off over their heads when I change the terminology. Though it is technically correct that “animal studies” includes humans and therefore may be less biased against non-human animals, I believe that most people don’t think in terms of humans being animals, even if they know it to be scientifically true. Is this an unfair prejudice? Perhaps. But I fear that “animal studies” pushes people more toward thinking about more biological (zoology, ethology) or industrial (animal science) fields. While these are a large part of studying anthrozoology, they ignore the human side of the equation. If scholars of the discipline use the term “animal studies,” there is a large risk of misunderstanding; do we just deal with having to explain ourselves as we try to confront pre-conceived notions of human superiority? Does using the term, then, place a barrier between its academic researchers and the general public? If so, is that okay?


*Hurn, S. (2010). What's in a name? Anthropology Today, 26(3), 27-28.

This is Anthrozoology

Our Sunday morning routine is always the same these days. It’s the one day we can get up in a more leisurely fashion, so we take advantage of that. At the same time, we want to finish work so we might have some time to play, so we try not to loll around for too long. But it happens. After we peel ourselves out of bed and away from the cats, we eat breakfast at the diner around the corner, then settle in at a coffee shop for a few hours to work on schoolwork. There’s never a shortage of that, for either of us.

Yesterday we went to a coffee shop that had always been relatively deserted, but I guess students are beginning to hunker down for their final papers and exams. It was packed, and there were no tables available with outlets for our laptop plugs. We left and went to a small café near our apartment, one we’ve been to before, but generally choose against. I'm now sure we'll be convening there more often. Meet Indigo.

Indigo is a 14-year-old, captive-bred Hyacinth Macaw, the largest flying parrot, and the largest macaw. From the top of their heads to the tip of their tails, they can be over three feet long. Indigo was sitting at a table with her humans in all her bright blue and yellow glory, rushing to the edge of the table to greet Roger and I when we came near. After talking with her humans for quite some time, we settled into a nearby table to ostensibly begin working. What came next was an informal education in anthrozoology.

While it is unusual to see a dog in a coffee shop, it happens. Service animals, or those in training, are not terribly uncommon. Exotic birds, however, are a different story – especially birds who are not caged, who are sitting with their humans, perched on the table or cradled in their arms, just as a toddler would be. Indigo even ate lunch, snacking on macadamia nuts and bread. She strutted around the table, perched on her human’s shoulder, and got a bit groggy, ready for a nap. And she had no shortage of admirers.

There was the mother with two boys, aged 11 and 12, one of whom exclaimed “whoa!” when they walked in the door. They stopped to talk about Indigo, excitedly drawing comparisons between Indigo and their friend’s parakeet. There was the couple who walked in and greeted Indigo by name; apparently, she is a regular. There was the retired gentleman who stopped by the table no less than three times to introduce himself, chat, and swap stories about animals and life in general. There was another couple who greeted Indigo, noting that they were just mentioning to one another that they were worried, as they hadn’t seen her in about a month. They talked with Indigo’s humans for an extended period of time, watched YouTube videos on an iPad (if you haven’t seen the Ultimate Dog Tease, please look it up), and interacted with Indigo herself, talking and gazing at the bird with absolute enchantment. At one point, I noticed that two complete strangers at different tables had begun talking about their dogs to one another.

Animals bring us together. They are an easy connection point and are an enjoyable topic – who wants to talk about their job when they can talk about their cat’s goofy antics or their dog’s agility training? They inspire sharing with one another when we think we don’t have any common ground. They liven up a room, and they make us smile, sometimes despite ourselves. Indigo certainly made many new friends yesterday. I know I’ll be going back to visit.

Where am I, and how did I get here?

Like many children, I loved animals. I couldn’t get enough of them. For me, the spark was ignited with the animated film Charlotte’s Web. I can’t begin to fathom the number of times I viewed this movie, and to this day, can sing the songs; hear the bossy goose talk about sitting on her eggs; and see Templeton, the rat, scavenging for food at the county fair. Charlotte’s Web inspired wondrous joy and intense sorrow. It also imparted the idea that animals have their own personalities, their own happiness and sadness, their own attachments, and their own neuroses.

My mom’s favorite story to tell about me is about the animal book – a pet care manual she bought for me at a garage sale for a quarter. She got her money’s worth and more, as the book and I became inseparable. I took it everywhere: the dinner table, the bathtub, the car. I read it while I watched television and while we were grocery shopping. In my mind, I was clearly ready for a pet. After seeing Lady and the Tramp, I finally wore my parents down and we got a Cocker Spaniel named Annie. I could see the ideas of animal thoughts, personalities, and emotions inspired by Charlotte’s Web take shape through Annie’s actions and disposition.

Annie was easy to love, as most animals are. We had an easy, companionable relationship. Above all else, it was safe. For a bullied child who never fit in, an animal is a godsend in the form of a non-judgmental, cuddly creature who wants nothing more than to be friends when nobody else does. When my parents briefly separated, my mom and I took Annie with us, but it was increasingly difficult to give her the care and attention she needed. She had contracted fleas from the area we walked her in, and our apartment was very small. My mom arranged for her to live with the principal of my small, private school, as she lived on a farm where there was plenty of room and plenty of other animals for Annie to interact with. I had never felt so socked in the gut, so bereft, so devoid of anything resembling happiness as I was when I came home and Annie wasn’t there to greet me. When my parents reunited, we took Annie back and the family was again complete.

Though I always felt a deep love for animals, growing up, I wanted to be a physician. At the time I applied to college, I intended to follow a pre-med course with a psychology major. Shortly before I arrived at Michigan State, I decided that medicine wasn’t the path for me, but pursued a psychology degree anyway and graduated with my BA in 2003. I landed my first job in public health in 2004, and have been in the field ever since. Along the way, I obtained my Master of Public Administration degree from Western Michigan University, which I now consider more of a job move than a career move. Throughout college and my work life, I’ve had a voice nagging me in the back of my mind about working with animals. One of my closest friends is a veterinarian, but I was never interested in animal medicine. I was more interested in the psychological lives of animals themselves and how we relate. I could never articulate it well enough – it wasn’t animal science; it wasn’t animal behavior; it wasn’t exactly human psychology, and it wasn’t exactly anthropology. I eventually discovered that the field I wanted to study had a name – Anthrozoology – and wanted so badly to study it, but the field is so young and programs so few. In fact, unless I am mistaken, no programs in the United States existed until now.

In April of this year, I was perusing Facebook, and the Animals and Society Institute happened to have a wall post about a new Master of Science program – 90% online, 10% in-person – at Canisius College in Buffalo. It may sound silly, but I could physically feel the excitement coursing through my body. I felt my breath catch as I read the program’s website. My heart was pounding as I wrote a passionate 2-page e-mail that I sent to my husband, Roger, and my mother. I knew my world had changed forever and decided to apply to the program immediately. Now I’m in my first semester, and I couldn’t have made a better decision. The faculty is outstanding; my classmates are so thoughtful and bring so much to the table with their amazing experiences and introspection. I’m in my element and enjoying school like I never have before.

So what is anthrozoology? I understand it to be a multi-disciplinary field that studies the relationship between human and non-human animals, aiming for betterment of both through careful study and application of knowledge gained. In addition to our own, other animals’ realities lie at the very heart of anthrozoology. Knowing another’s reality is essential in crafting a response to our present and future relationships with them. We afford this courtesy to fellow human beings: no intimate relationship, whether familial, spousal, or friendly, fares well without genuine interaction between individuals. If we pursue a relationship with only our self-interest in mind, we are rightly accused of being selfish and the relationship suffers. If, however, we act reciprocally, gleaning information and processing it to construct thoughtful reactions and meaningful interactions, the relationship flourishes and both parties are better for it. Aiming for the same mutual benefits in our human/non-human animal relationships therefore requires a similar commitment to the realities of other species. As a discipline in its infancy, anthrozoology is in a unique position to inform the realization of these benefits of our relationships as it defines and refines the necessary path to adequately discover the realities of non-human animals. A well-developed field of anthrozoology will draw not only from the tangible – that is, the observable sciences, such as ethology, anatomy, and physiology – but also the relatively intangible, such as the humanities and social sciences. The former is important because it defines what we can biologically expect from non-human animals. The latter is equally important because it encourages introspection and is especially informative with regard to our past experiences with animals. Philosophy, sociology, and even literature inform about our relationship with animals as much, if not more, than any physical science.

So! That’s where I am, and how I got there. Through this blog, I hope to bring more light to the fascinating field of anthrozoology as it matures and becomes refined. The discipline has much to offer in terms of ourselves and our relationship with not only each other, but with those with whom we share the planet. Oh, and one other thing – expect lots of cat stories.