Posted on 04/28/2011 11:07:30 AM PDT by WOBBLY BOB
'Pet' an insult to animals, academics say Fiona MacRae From: Herald Sun April 29, 2011 12:00AM Increase Text SizeDecrease Text SizePrintEmail Share Add to DiggAdd to del.icio.usAdd to FacebookAdd to KwoffAdd to MyspaceAdd to NewsvineWhat are these? Academics say that rather than being a term of endearment, "pets" is an insult to the animals concerned and their owners, who should be known as "human carers". Source: Herald Sun IN a statement that gives a whole new meaning to animal rights, leading academics have called for pets to be renamed "companion animals". They say that rather than being a term of endearment, "pets" is an insult to the animals concerned and their owners, who should be known as "human carers".
Editors of a new journal devoted to animal ethics, including an Oxford University theologian, also want the terms "pests" and "vermin" to be dropped. Wild animals, meanwhile, would be referred to as "free-living" or "free-ranging".
Even innocuous phrases such as "sly as a fox" and "drunk as a skunk" are seen as an affront to animals.
(Excerpt) Read more at heraldsun.com.au ...
In her 17th year with us, Sasha, one of our two pet cats, died. The litter into which she was born was discovered under pallets outside the wing’s supply squadron and was rescued by a compassionate NCO who set about finding homes for the kittens. I took Sasha.
The next year, in her 18th year with us, Tasha, our purebred Siamese died. She was a gift from my sister-in-law. Despite the peculiarities peculiar to cats, both she and Tasha were wonderfully delightful pets.
The same year Tasha died our purebred pet Dachshund, Sadie, was put to sleep. She was with us for 18 years and was as much a companion to Sasha and Tasha as she was our pet.
For the first 17 years with us she was incredibly vital, energetic and brought us much joy.
But, Sadie’s health failed during that last year to the extent we consulted with her vet when we should put her to sleep. His answer was true and correct, but not very helpful.
Not at all.
We should put her to sleep when she did not enjoy being a dog any more.
What does it look like when a dog does not enjoy being a dog any more? She lays in her bed. Does not eat. Does not drink. Barely responds to your touch. She is clearly wasting away. She is clearly suffering.
We made the call to the vet. Time to part with Sadie.
I made the appointment.
We arrived at the clinic. My wife held Sadie, petting her, stroking her. She would not get out of the car. She would not take Sadie into the clinic. She cried and refused to move.
Bless his heart, a clinic technician came to the car and gently asked my wife to entrust Sadie to him. The staff expected us and watched my wife’s ordeal until they were moved to do something.
Still crying, after a few more loving petting strokes, my wife surrendered Sadie to her final caregiver.
The vet who put Sadie to sleep was not her vet. She was a retired vet who filled in for vacationing vets. While we made arrangements for Sadie’s cremation and receipt of her ashes, the vet reviewed Sadie’s medical records. Then, she came out to tell my wife what excellent care she had given our pet all the years of her life.
A year later we visited the San Antonio Humane Society’s animal shelter for the off chance we might find a purebred Dachshund. Fat chance, I know. And, we did not find one.
What I found was BJ.
That was five years ago. Long, long before this article was imagined.
My wife was off looking at all the other animal enclosures. A volunteer asked me what I was looking for. I told her, we wanted as close to a purebred red dachshund as we might find. Then, the volunteer lied to me. She said they had a mixed-breed dachshund which might interest me.
Then . . . she trotted out BJ. Trotted him out of quarantine, where he had been treated for heart worms.
But . . . though BJ had the markings and characteristics of a black and white colored Dachshund, he was three times the size. He is obviously as much Hound as he is Dachshund. I politely declined the volunteer’s suggestion for adoption.
But, there was something about BJ’s eagerness to be with someone that made me believe he would be an excellent pet.
The problem was my wife. She was looking for a replacement for Sadie. In no way, shape, or form, was BJ going to be a replacement for Sadie. She was adamantly against adopting him. I just had a feeling. I insisted.
Over time . . . turns out for the wife . . . I was right.
During the application for adoption process there was never a reference to “pet” nor to “ownership”. All legal documents we signed referenced “companion.” That was cool with me. Means nothing to pet owners who take diligent care of their pets.
A month after we brought BJ home we adopted Gretchen from the SA Humane Society, who obviously was a mix between a dachshund and a Chihuahua. Getting us to look at her was another deception, since we requested to be called when a dachshund was available.
Be the deception what it was, BJ and Gretchen are wonderful pets and are great companions to each other. When we walk them, they look like Mutt and Jeff. They have identical black and white markings and relative body proportions . . . one relative sized hound and one little bit larger than a Chihuahua.
Considering the longevity of our pets, these companions ought to enjoy a good, long life with us.
I know we will enjoy them.
R.
Of all the problems in the world that concern humans and domesticated animals, this is the one they chose to try to solve? Reminds me of when I was on the Berkeley Women’s Law Journal (long ago) and I had to proofread an article concerning how unfair it was that the word “woman” had “man” in it. It’s sad that somebody actually makes money doing this.
Excellent and true post.
Thanks,
R.
I constantly remind my blue healer that: (1.) Nobody loves you, (2.) You are a burden upon society, and (3.) You need to get a job.
I don’t see as it’s affected him.
He just goes about his business wagging his tail and fetching tennis balls - his only talents.
Hence, you needn’t reply, I’m now quite used to being ignored.
Actually, as to “woman” and “man”, I am given to pointing out that in Anglo-Saxon, “man” was the equivalent of the Greek “anthropos”, meaning, “human being without regard to sex or gender”. The Anglo-Saxon equivalent of “gyne” was, of course, “woman”. There was, however, an Anglo-Saxon equivalent of “andros”, “wapman”. Of course, “woman” contains “man”, women and wapmen are the two sorts of men.
All those suffixes -man as in “chairman”, “fireman”, and the like are actually sexless! As a male human being, I want our English word back! Wapmen of the Anglosphere unite! Demand our own word! No longer should we be content to be referred to as generic human beings under the name “man”!
I realize using “manly” to refer to “proper to human beings” and having to use “wapmanly” for masculine, but it’s better than having meetings presided over by inanimate objects (chairs) and having to put up with abominable neologisms like “firefighter”.
“’Pet’ an insult to animals, academics say”
Naw - - - they love it.
My dead cats and dogs are wondering why you posted this message.
"women and wapmen are two sorts of men."
This thread is pretty much hijacked . . . by you. What are wapmen? How many are there? At least two, right?
How many sorts of men are we?
What were they THINKING!? :)=^..^=
We schizophrenics are fine.
But I could have misread htat because I'm a bit dyslexyic.
Me too.
That's alright, my pet... Ewok! Get away from that laptop! Sit, dammit.
Our old cat didn't pay much attention to anyone's voice (except Dad who would suggest that the cat get to hell out of his chair). However, anything which sounded even remotely like the electric can opener got his immediate, undivided attention.
I work and donate money to rescue kittehs and dogs and what are these no good ‘academics’ doing? I’ll ask my cat if it is offended by being called a pet but really, what owner says, “My pet”?
It’s usually my cat, “insert cat name here” or dog, who calls their dog a pet? Our dogs and cats always have names; they’re family members.
In fact, it’s feeding time. I’m their slave, not the other way around. Bah!
Let’s see these academics clean litter boxes at a rescue center or adopt a dog.
If it's a dumb cluck, that squawks like a peacock, and smells like a pig sty, then it must be Reverend Prof Andrew Linzey and Prof Priscilla Cohn.
Fiona, thank you for writing this article to inform/warn us about these turkey brained academics and their loon theories; however, just remember, "the shallower the brook, the louder it babbles," when you inform us of these nut cases. Now that we know who they are, we can take steps to send them and their theories to the booby hatch.
Glock...Glock? It’s your FRiend in Benderville and I want you to know that help is on the way so stay right where you are while I get a fix on your iPhone location...
Oh for goodness sakes! Our country is going to hell in a hand basket and calling my 2 kitties pets is wrong?
Sorry, but some people just need a can of whop a$$ opened upon them!
Yah, referred to as: “livestock” in civil law in smost parts. Unless you’re SWAT headed into a home. Then, they’re “threats.”
smost = most.
I think I’m catching Ewok’s dyslexia.
100
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