Dog & human alike

From the rather meager records of "profound" thought:

A conversation I was having earlier today with a Rather Shy Classmate got me to thinking about the nature of anxiety.

Rather than casting it in a nature or nuture debate, we were discussing whether anxiety had roots both genetic and environmental. She's got loads of it in her family tree, so she assumes a genetic component. But she's also keenly aware of the anxiety-producing behavior and commentary of her ancestors -- parents, grandparents, etc. -- that have contributed to her own shyness and anxiety.

Listening to her, I consider the likelihood that anxiety, as a biological construct, serves an evolutionary purpose. Those of us who are hyper-vigilant for threats in our environment are going to be prepared for the chaos, going to survive the unexpected. Right?

But in our modern, Western society, we've created "typical" living conditions that do not require us to be hyper-alert. Life, even when we've got financial troubles or are dating unpredictable people, is actually pretty mellow compared to the days when humans were fighting off dinosaurs. (Yes, I know: Humans and dinosaurs did not co-exist. But my point is: HUGE threats from predators, from the environment, from the Crusaders and from masked bandits in the Wild Wild West.)

My point is that, once upon a time, this vigilance, this suspicion and paranoia, this hiding in the bushes, this excessive attention to detail -- checking, checking, checking! -- served the purposes of our survival.

Now, it's just wasted energy. But those of us who are wired to be more alert, more cautious, more suspicious of the unexpected, are now, in this society, labled as anxious. Because, like, we just can't relax, mon. We just can't chill out all the way. We never know when the Gestapo will be banging on our door, ya know?

So my Rather Shy Classmate and I were talking about that. And even though I don't care much for the comparision of humans to dogs, neither am I a speciest. I do not know the "Dog Experience," so I really ought not be criticizing their behavior. Seriously, dude.

It is in the vein of special equanimity (heh) that I consider the parallels of anxious humans to that of alert, attentive, so-called "highly strung" Terriers who live in urban lofts.

Right?

Because the pup Brogan has nothing to fear. Life in this here urban loft is pretty sweet.

He eats a high-quality dog food designed to keep his skin and coat healthy while providing nutrients dense enough to keep his stomach satisfied while his poop "deposits" remain tight and compact. He enjoys regular teeth-cleaning, breath-freshening, environmentally friendly, healthy dog treats.

He lives in a home protected by several fire sprinklers installed in the ceilings, with double-paned energy efficient windows, with a luscious area rug made of silk and wool.

He gets regular walks -- and by regular, I mean two or three a day of about 30 minutes duration, sometimes longer, rarely shorter. Suffice it to say, he gets adequate exercise, sometimes more than enough for a being who's legs are no more than four inches long.

He has an eagle-eye view of the street that allows him to see any and all on-coming predators, to observe all multiple birth strollers in the vacinity, to look down his exceptionally cute little black nose over all that walks below his window. His perch is a lovely arm chair upholstered in high-grade, attractive fabric.

His coat is meticulously maintained -- regular brushings a couple times a week -- to ensure he does not have skin problems and to keep him looking his spiffiest. He LOVES being brushed, and he looks *fabulous* as a result of his personal grooming.

By day, he naps where he sees fit. At night, he usually requests -- and is allowed -- to sleep at the foot of a solid mahogany sleigh bed covered in a beautiful silk comforter that covers a plush, hypo-alergenic down comforter. His belly get scrached upon wakening.

On holidays, he gets special canned dog food.

Sometimes, he wears a bow tie.

In short, it is hard for a dog's life to get more exquisite. He is truly pampered. And if any dog ever had a reason to *chill,* the pup Brogan is one of them.

And yet, he is neurotic.

This is not because he is overly pampered. It is simply because he wants to CHASE AND KILL SOMETHING. Something small and feral. Like a rodent. Or a badger.

He wants to mix it up, display his Terrier prowerness. He wants to get his bow tie DIRTY.

But no. *This* society does not require that of him, even though he is hard-wired to do so. (Cairn terriers were bred to kill rodents -- and on up to badgers -- that hide in the piles of rocks, also known as "cairns," on the farms of the Scottish highlands.)

So, in lieu of satisfying his blood lust and killing other small creatures, my little pup Brogan expresses his pent-up energy as anxiety, as dog neuroticism.

It's just what happens when you continue to exist but your services are no longer required. Like anxious humans waiting for the next predator, the next disaster, the nex calamity. Once, it served a purpose. Now, those skills are a bit outdated.

Until the End Times come. At which point, both the pup Brogan and my Rather Shy Classmate will be in high demand. The rest of us slowpokes, stoners and those who have otherwise unconcerned about the fate of our respective species (including those rather lazy Retreivers and Labs) will be begging for the super-alert anxious humans and neurotic terriers among us. We'll want someone to protect us.

But then, we may not make it that far. The anxious humans and the neurotic terriers will be prepared. The rest of us? Will probably just die.

I'm just sayin'.