A word is dead

When it is said,

Some say.

I say it just

Begins to live

That day.

Even though we humans like to use our written and spoken language as evidence of our superior brain-power, like all animal displays words that have one meaning in one context may have a completely different meaning in another. This podcast considers one word commonly used in behavior whose new meaning may, literally, come back to bite us.

After I did last week’s podcast, I kept thinking about  animals who live between two worlds, either by their own choice or those imposed on them by humans.  When I did that, I came up with other examples and the feeling that there were even more. In fact, by the time I finished recording this, I had to wonder whether this might be becoming the norm instead of the exception in the human-companion animal world.

Lest you cat-folks think you’re spared from a lot of temptations that dog-folks must face in this regard, don’t be too sure. The day after I recorded this podcast there was an article in my local paper about cat agility, complete with a picture of a cat leaping over a hurdle and, naturally, a caption that mentioned her time running the course. Who knows? Maybe there will be Mouse-Catching Olympics one day, too.

Because nature isn’t linear, it’s only natural to expect there to be individuals and species which don’t quite fit into the little boxes we humans create for them. When these animals occur in the wild, their ability to span two worlds is a source of amazement to us. Who can deny what such individuals and species reveal about the fantastic potential inherent in even the lowest of life-forms? And who could can deny their appeal to us novelty-loving humans?

When such creatures so evolve to survive in their environments is one thing. But when animals wind up trapped between their worlds and ours simply to suit our purposes, well, that’s something else entirely.

One of the many things I enjoy about working with animals is that their behavior is so understandable. This isn’t to say there aren’t any surprises. There are many. But once you understand the basics, there’s a certain logic and elegance that underlies it. Because even we humans who say we don’t feel superior to other animal species inevitably act as if we are, dealing with incomprehensible human behavior serves as a good  reminder where we fit in in the overall scheme of things.

Following the episode described in this podcast, I’m sure we’re nowhere as high up in system as we like to think.

Something else about the gift magazine that serves as the jumping off point for this podcast: the issue I received was 2 years old!  There was something about getting a brand new copy of a 2-year-old magazine for my waiting room that struck me as incredibly funny. I mean, what better place for an old magazine than in a waiting room?

This caused me to imagine a creative publisher (an unusual state in and of itself) pondering what to do with that stack of perfectly good, but old magazines in the corner. He—I’m sure it’s a he because this is definitely a publication aimed at males—ponders more lucrative markets for old magazines than the local recycling center. His mind drifts toward places where he routinely sees old magazines. Immediately the waiting room of the local medical clinic pops into his mind. Probably not a good match. But then he has a eureka! moment.

And as a result of this, or some other quirk of fate, I wind up with the crisp new copy of a 2-year-old magazine that served as a catalyst for this podcast. Sort of cosmic in its own way.

This podcast was the result of spending—or wasting as the case may be—weeks trying to select new colors for my website redesign, only to get blindsided by a quirk of computer and human perception. On the other hand, the collapse of my naive belief that, given the same color code, computer systems would display a website of the exact color I wanted later struck me as similar to the way genes and their results are often perceived. People or animals who have Gene A will have or will get Condition B.

Would that colors and genes were both so simple!

Remember the childhood rhyme “For Want of a Nail”?

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe the horse was lost.

For want of a horse the rider was lost.

For want of a rider the battle was lost.

For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Ignoring the fact that this rhyme doesn’t rhyme, the point those who introduced us to this little ditty wanted to make is that ignoring things that superficially appear to be insignificant can have grave consequences down the line. No doubt the reason this non rhyme has endured so long is because it’s still true today.

I’m writing this at a time that some of you may have never experienced. It’s not in the wee hours of the morning or in some exotic time zone. I’m writing this at approximately 10:40 a.m.  Not exactly 10:38 or 10:41 as your digital clock, watch, computer, or iPhone might tell you. I’m writing this at some time roughly around 10:40, give or take a few minutes. This deliciously uncertain state is courtesy of the analog wall clock in my office. If I looked at the digital clock on my computer or the one in the bedroom, each would tell me exactly what time it is. Or, rather, exactly what time each of them thinks it is. And, more likely than not, the two won’t agree. And I for one wouldn’t bet the ranch that either of them is correct given I take a reading from my battery powered analog watch or clock to reset them when the power goes out and the “right” time when I start this process with the digital clock on the oven will be the wrong time by the time I reach the digital clock in the bedroom. To compensate for this I guess, sometimes right, sometimes wrong. So unlike my analog clock which is always in the right time ballpark, my digital clocks are either totally right or completely wrong.

Digital systems in computers and in  yes/no, positive/negative, normal/abnormal thought patterns are the subject of this week’s podcast. Like the little girl with the little curl right in the middle of her forehead, when used in environments where only such either/or options exist, they’re very, very good. But when we try to apply them to areas where multiple alternatives or shades of grey may exist, well, they can be pretty doggone horrid.

As I was reading various articles about the mirror test for self-awareness that’s supposed to prove human superiority (click here for one such article), I couldn’t help thinking about termites.  Specifically, I was thinking about an African species called the bellicose termite. They build huge mounds that include chambers in which they eliminate their poorly digested waste. There the waste is processed by a species of fungus they cultivate which converts the waste to more food for the termites. Because the fungus gardens produce a lot of heat and because the fungus grows best within the 30-31 degree C range, the termite mounds also include a very effective, highly energy-efficient climate control system. Moreover, the termites adapt their structures to the soil type and environmental conditions where they build. Some of these may be 20’ tall and have a “cellar” 6’ down, 10-12’ in diameter and 2’ high.

I imagine two of these termites discussing the relative intelligence of humans. One of them, Egomite, believes that termites are the most superior species. The other, Naturmite, views them as part of a greater whole.

“I think humans are lower life-forms,” argues Egomite.

“I’m not saying they’re not,” replies Naturmite. “But just because they’re lower life forms doesn’t mean they can’t be self-aware like we are.”

“I’ll prove it,” counters his pal. “We’ll give them a test.”

“What kind of a test?”

“Well, I think anyone who is self-aware should be able to build a climate controlled building with an equally energy-efficient waste-retrieval system that can be adapted to a variety of different ground conditions,” replies Egomite after some thought.

“I’m sure there are humans who could do that,” declares Naturmite confidently.

“That’s only the first part of the test,” continues the termite champion.  “Taking into account how much bigger they are, their building should be at least a mile high to be comparable to one of our mounds. And, of course, they can’t use any tools.”

“Now, wait a minute! That’s not fair! ” blusters Naturmite. “You know they can’t do that given their lack of communication skills and other limitations!”

“I rest my case,” proclaims Egomite smugly.

For most of us the beginning for a new year is a time of regrouping. Regular schedules return, sometimes complicated by having to play catch-up on tasks we let go over the holidays. Then there’s atonement for all we ate–Christmas cookies for breakfast even!–and how little we exercised. Unwrapping presents does not count as exercise any more than moving briskly through buffet lines while filling a plate does.

But while most of us are aware of post-holiday let-down and its causes in our lives, that our pets might experience something similar doesn’t occur to us.  And because the very nature of the human-companion animal bond makes us expect them to serve as a source of comfort when we’re having a rough time, adding a pet with post-holiday problems can make us feel worse. Yet another one of those human-animal interactions that are better prevented.

One of the things I’m doing post-holiday is digging out from a New Year’s Eve through January 3rd snow. There wasn’t a lot of snow, but it was constant. And it was the perfect snow to stick to certain dogs’ fur and give rise to thoughtful expressions:

The cat, on the other hand, preferred to observe from somewhere where he could keep himself sleek and tidy.

Season’s Greetings from the three furry muses who live in the little house on the hill.

May the coming year be filled with the very best for you and your loved ones of all species.

FRICA

OLLIE

BAMBOO

THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE HILL

I drove by the scene of the crime several days after I recorded this. The body is gone, but the sign is still upside down. Hopefully, we’re not dealing with a serial killer.

What I was a kid, I used to long for all the special television shows and movies of the holiday season. Even after I moved here to the dead zone, I’d still think about those holiday media events. Even though I can’t say for sure because the seasonal pull is great, some of this year’s offerings make me happy to read a book while the dogs do their doggy things and the cat masters his many feline talents. This week’s podcast is about two of them.

When I was a little kid, one of the stories I distinctly remember from my  second or third grade reading book was about a little boy who got new copper-toed (if you can imagine such a thing) boots and became so engrossed  looking at them as he walked that he got lost. That was my first of many encounters with the limits of human navigational skills. Now there are scientists who study this phenomenon as it affects our brains and view of reality. And some of them ponder the effect electronic devices that do this kind of thinking for us have on that view.  Naturally this led me to wonder how such reality shifts might affect the animals living with us.

After I recorded this I realized I hadn’t mentioned what I learned from cockroaches. I’ll save that for another podcast. 

Since I recorded this I’ve been thinking a lot about mood contagion, embodied cognition, and body mapping as these apply to our interactions with companion animals.  Particularly, I’ve been wondering about the effect all-positive training has on an animal’s development of empathy. Does such a view of reality make it difficult for them to understand what it means to do wrong, to hurt someone else? Given the role modeling plays in learning, do they see others suffering and then mimic their mood and the physiological changes that go with it? But if that’s the case, then their lives wouldn’t be all-positive. Rather than subject their pets to that, would their all-positive owners shield their animals from such “negative” experiences?

Many years ago there was a similar trend in children’s education that involved giving effusive praise for everything the child did right and creating an all-positive environment. This was based on the premise that this would develop the children’s self-confidence and self-esteem. At the time, the short-term results of this approach looked good. And as is so often the case, many assumed these results proved that this was the way to go.  But then one researcher decided to study how these kids behaved when they reached adolescence and this time the results were quite different. Because the kids had been taught that everything about them and what they did was so special, they couldn’t cope when reality didn’t support that view.  And when it didn’t, some of them became violent. In other words, they couldn’t empathize with others.

In addition to the excerpt from Franz de Waal’s The Age of Empathy published in the October edition of Discover magazine that I discussed in the podcast, you can read another excerpt of his book here. This one gives some insights to what happens to those reward-focused humans who think they’re special when they become adults, and compares this to how animals avoid such complications left to their own “lower animal” devices.

I apologize for the variable quality of this recording. Part was switching between computers, part was me. Hopefully, I’ll get it all sorted out.

The article mentioned in the podcast, including pictures of the enchanting Caenorhabditis elegans, is “RNA Revolution” by Gary Taubes in the October 2009 edition of Discover Magazine.

For those who do not know what a worm hotel looks like, here is a picture of mine.

Granted it’s not very elegant, and it’s first floor is leaking (hence the plastic), but I had it for years. I put just about everything but meat and dairy products in a section mixed with shredded paper and the worms feed on the mold that grows. When there’s no room left on a floor, the worms move up to the next floor. For this picture, I moved the worms from the top floor out of the way so you can see the floor grid in each floor that enables them to do this.

The last picture is taken of the floor below that’s running out of room. When they’ve finished eating and move on, all that’s left are the brownish black castings or dropping that I used to fertilize my gardens or houseplants. At some times during this process if conditions are right, they’ll also reproduce.

All in all, quite amazing little creatures.

If you’d like to read more about some of the latest plant studies I mentioned and their implications, check out this link.

And here are a few pictures of some of my favorite non-animal household companions. The first is a philodendron that is notable because it’s more than 20 years old. Admittedly, this isn’t any big deal for that species which seems capable of surviving just about anything. This one is in my office. It’s mother lives in my bedroom.

This ivy plant is also in my office and it’s looking a bit shopworn because Bamboo likes it attack it or swing in it when he gets bored.

And this is a special favorite, a Christmas cactus that’s even older than the other two. Bam also did a number on it when he was a kitten, but it came back after I cat-proofed it by putting double-sided tape around the top of the wicker basket it sits on. If you look carefully, you might be able to see its first tiny pale pink buds on the ends of some of its dark green branches. I always look forward to its cascade of gaudy deep pink blossoms during the darkest days of the year.

Could you resist playing with this dog?

Bamboo’s post-visit response.

The title of this podcast comes from the caption of a famous cartoon that depicted a cat singing “Love them mousies, mousies that I love to eat.”  The newsletter that inspired this commentary came from BottomLineSecrets.com. The growling in the background came from Ollie and Fric playing on the dog-couch while I was recording, not some dogfight I was too distracted to break up not that I ever would. And, finally, this is what I discovered when I went to see what the cat was up to:

As you can see, he’s learning to climb trees. He’s not exactly graceful yet, but he’s getting the hang of it. He also loves to leap on the dogs from his perches and scare them when they’re sniffing through the dead leaves at the base of the tree. Then a mad dash around the yard begins accompanied by Ollie’s barked and growled dog-curses, and a great time is had by all.