Cozy Cats, Dutiful Dogs

I have written a couple of times in this blog about the contrasting qualities of cats and dogs, and the joys and tribulations of living with each type of critter. For several decades I have had both of them as household companions, and enjoy each of them for their unique habits and charms. I have poked fun at my sister and a dear cousin—both of whom are dedicated cat loyalists—while (I think) not fully appreciating the qualities of canines. So I've found it necessary to correct their bias a couple of times.

One more fascinating piece of evidence that feeds cat/dog comparisons was recently uncovered in an English science lab, as researchers were examining the genome of the domestic cat. What they may have discovered is the likely process by which cats were domesticated, some 10,000 years ago in the Near East. It seems as though some people back then discovered that a few less-wild wild cats could be coaxed into being stroked—that some of them grooved on being petted and then being offered a treat. Over time, people were more likely to adopt the milder wild cats and gradually bred them to become increasingly tame.

Fascinatingly, the British researchers were even able to determine the timing of the taming process through DNA analysis—finding genes in the brains of domesticated cats that are associated with feelings of reward and pleasure, that are not found in the DNA of today's wild cats in the Near East. In other words, domestic cats have acquired unique genes that make them want to be stroked, and DNA analysis shows that the split from wild cats that encouraged these genes occurred about 10 millennia ago. Ain't science grand?

Thus it seems kitty cats first came to us because they wanted to get caressed and fed. They saw humans as a soft touch, who would fondle them and give them goodies to eat. They ain't dumb! They deigned to allow us to tend to their pleasures and needs; in return we get a ball of warm fur cuddled in our lap. This appears to have been primarily a sensual exchange. But on occasion we do get the added benefit of our cat friend snatching an annoying mouse.

Dogs, on the other hand, domesticated themselves far earlier in human history. They came to us from wolf packs as long as 50,000 years ago and maybe even earlier. They too realized that humans could be a source of easy food, but dogs had more to offer us as part of the bargain. They are more sociable critters than cats, so they interact more naturally with us. They are expert and cooperative hunters with a superb sense of smell, so they became excellent hunting companions. Finally, dogs love to guard their dogdoms, which our vulnerable hunter-gatherer ancestors appreciated.

I don't mean to add any more fuel to the incessant cat-vs-dog debate, and I doubt that the English researchers intended to either, but I can't help but notice that dogs seem to have had more to offer us, when they sought to become our companions—at least a little more than allowing us to tickle them behind the ear. But let me quickly add that I do love my cat, lest I piss off my cousin again.

I'm reminded of a quote attributed to Grouch Marx: “Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read.”

Solstice Yearnings

At this time of year my thoughts can turn to spring fruit blossoms.

Time Lost--Part 2

Is it any different 100 years after Laura Ingalls Wilder's questions? Twenty-first century technological toys make so many tasks even that much quicker to do. Yet how many people who've chosen to buy these things then feel rushed, pressured, and complain about not having enough time to do things? Many folks would love to find some “leisure time,” but never seem to. Email, texting, and Facebook allow us to communicate instantly with a large number of “friends.” Yet how often are people able or inclined to take the time to sit down and engage in a conversation with a friend or loved one? Instant microwave dinners or a pizza delivery provide a meal in short order, yet people gulp their food on the run; avoiding sitting down together to share a meal and conversation.

Wilder never attempts to answer her question of “What became of the time we saved.” In the short columns she penned, she chose not to go into many details; but she was also raising a rhetorical question, I believe. She knew well why we become so rushed, despite our fast cars and speedy machines, and I'm sure she could have waxed eloquently on about the paradox.

So let me hazard a guess about the cause, based on my experiences these last three decades in a rural setting. Shortly after we began our life out here, I found it fascinating (but at times unpleasant) that homestead tasks required so many hours each day. Some of that work was menial and slow... even boring. I often wondered about getting a machine to help me do things faster. But by and large I resisted that urge, because I also found myself able to pause frequently while laboring at some task and “take the time” to watch a bird or ponder a thought for a while. Having to spend so much time laboring, I was also free to slow down and engage with life.

What we seem to lose, when we acquire labor-saving, time-saving machines, is time to slow down and think; to pay attention to our world. It's such a lure to turn around and invest the time we save in acquiring a technological convenience by simply taking on another duty—making our life more complex. We live in a culture that values accomplishing and acquiring things; and in America we pretty much have the economic wherewithal to pursue them.

We all want to be happy. Our culture teaches us that getting things is the path to happiness. This process has become so ingrained in our society that we are hardly able to see the contradiction: the more we pursue things, the less happy we are; the more we acquire “time-saving” devices, the less time we have. Laura Ingalls Wilder eloquently described the conundrum.

Many sages and philosophers of the past have tried to point out the trap we fall into, when we invest so much energy into grasping for more. We humans have a problem reigning in our desires; to the point that our desires often control us. We tell ourselves that having just a little more (money, time...) will be so satisfying that we'll finally and truly be happy. We tell ourselves that buying this computer or smart phone will allow us to accomplish our online tasks more quickly and open up a little leisure time—when we just add to the number of online things we do and feel even more rushed. Email promises the ability to communicate with friends far faster than snail mail ever allowed—only to allow us to lengthen our list of “friends” we try to keep track of. And now we can text much faster than email!

I find it fascinating to read the words of a writer 100 years ago who described the same dilemma, when her slow-moving horse was turned out to pasture, in favor of the speedy motor car. Rushing to her meeting in her new auto, Laura Ingalls Wilder was able to pause (later) long enough to ask, “What became of the time the motor car saved us? Why was everyone late and in a hurry?” Those questions remain relevant, a century later. Is this progress?

Pigeon Head

My friend's daughter just graduated from college. They used to call her "Bird Brain."

Time Lost—Part 1

Most everyone knows Laura Ingalls Wilder (1867-1957) for her Little House series of books. Some 20 years before the first publication of one of these books (Little House in the Woods, in 1932), she wrote a column titled “As a Farm Woman Thinks,” in a local Missouri newspaper. Some 140 of these articles were collected and published in a 1991 book, Little House in the Ozarks: The Rediscovered Writings.

Wilder honed her writing skills in this column for over 14 years (from 1911 to 1925). She wrote about the simple pleasures of country living and all the mundane-but-meaningful tasks one engages in. I enjoy her insights and descriptions, as the lifestyle is roughly similar to what I chose, some three decades ago.

I have countless times had impressed upon me how one trades time for money, when living a pared-back rural life. In order to acquire the things you need for this kind of lifestyle, it seems you have to put in lots of time, since you've chosen not to possess much money. Laura Ingalls Wilder eloquently describes her enjoyment in performing the many time-consuming tasks that a “farm woman” faces.

Some of her columns in the Little House in the Ozarks wrestle with the issue of technology and how technological conveniences are able to trim the amount of time required for certain domestic tasks. When folks 100 years ago acquired a washing machine, the weekly laundry went much more quickly. By buying a vacuum cleaner the house got spiffied up posthaste. These devices are often described as “labor-saving”; the implication being that one would have more “free” time for other pursuits.

In one of Wilder's columns titled “What became of the Time We Saved,” she wondered why it is that we find ourselves increasingly busy and rushed, after we invest in technology. In this article she writes about driving to a women's club meeting in a neighboring town in a newly-purchased motor car. She describes how she used to travel the same route slowly by horse and buggy, taking nearly all day to get there and back. The speedy motor car promised to save her much time.

Yet her experience was that she—as well as others—now arrived late for the meeting. Everyone hurried through the session, hurried during their after-meeting chats, and hurried all the way home, to arrive later than before, when they traveled by leisurely-paced horse. She asks, “What became of the time the motor car saved us?” She writes that she and her friends now have “so many machines and so many helps,” yet “there seems to be no time for anything.”

More lost time next time...

Acorn Shrooms

These fall mushrooms look like acorns to me.