Reflections After a Night in the ER

The following is a tenderly worded poem that I have written for my wife following her recent trip to the emergency room.  Luckily, the event had a happy ending, but I find it is always important to reflect on these frightening experiences and so learn about our deep connections.

My Dear Wife,

Last night you work me up 

From a deep sleep that I had been looking forward to all day.

But I didn't mind.  

I figured that you were looking for a little fun.

It turned out that you were crying and in pain

Because a sharp two millimeter solid concretion 

Was lodged in your urinary tract.

As we spent the next few hours in the hospital

I began to think about how little time we truly spend together.

And how I usually forget to do the simple tasks you ask me to do

Because I don't take them seriously.

By the way,

I'll hang up that hook for your robe

in the bathroom this weekend,

I promise.

The pain made you nauseous and you threw up.

I had to leave because I am a sympathetic vomiter,

And I would have made twice the mess otherwise.

And then they drew blood, 

Which made me queasy.

And when you were moaning in pain,

That kind of creeped me out,

So I said, "Let's watch the Conan O'brien show."

When the doctor came back to tell you

That you were going to be fine,

And we could go home,

I was relieved.

This is the first trip we ever made to the hospital

That did not result directly in another kid.

I want you to know

That I will try my best not to take you for granted,

Like I have in the past.

And I'll try my hardest not to seduce you

With my irresistible charm,

Because you seem pretty tired

And could use a rest.

Why I Sometimes Act Like an Animal--Redux

Annoyingly smart readers who call you on obvious rhetorical strategies that mislead the public are the worst kind of people to sit next to at work.  And for that, I'm not even going to protect your identity, Randal.  Yes, you were technically right when you told me that bacteria are not animals as my post claims.

And when I argued that what I meant by "animals" was non-human life, you are right to point out that I know perfectly good words to use to describe them when they are both not human and not animals.

And what did Randal say when I asked can not an example of bacterial altruism also imply that a greater degree of nobility might be seen in more complex living things?  Quoth the Randal, "Nevermore!"

And so, here I am once again faced with retribution for my numerous and severe transgressions.  A penance again!  And this week, the subject shall be altruism in Animals (multicellular eukaryotic heterotrophs to be specific).  

Why I Sometimes Act Like an Animal

A common complaint from creationists and other evolution deniers laments that teaching our children that they "come from monkeys" encourages them to believe they are "just animals" and so they might as well act that way.  It's no wonder, the creationists argue, that murder, teen pregnancy, abortion and other forms of monkey business are on the rise.

A logical person could point out that even if it were true that learning we are apes makes us act like hooligans, it is not evidence against our apishness.  Being an ugly man might hurt my feelings, but it won't make me prettier.  So even if the truth hurts, it is worth knowing about.

When asked by parents or students if I teach that we "came from apes," I virtually leap to my feet and shout.  "Of course not!" I exclaim, "I teach them we are apes!"  Sometimes this does not have the affect I'm hoping for, but nonetheless, I push on.

In fact, I'm easily offended when people in my life, my mother among them, say that when I'm behaving badly I'm acting like an animal.  The reason I get offended is because I like animals and I think it's unfair to compare the stately conduct of the average beast my impish ways.  For example, would an animal shave his brother-in-law's right eyebrow when he fell asleep during Thanksgiving dinner?  I think not.  But I can email pictures on request.

This article confirms my suspicions that animals, even tiny single-celled ones are more noble then we'd like to admit.  It seems that a Samonella bacteria will sometimes self-destruct when doing so will give its siblings an advantage.  When was the last time your mom did something so noble?  My mom would never do that for me.  Maybe for my brother...

Bass Avoid Biting Off More Than They Can Chew

This image shows a very rare event: a Largemouth Bass has attempted to eat a meal it can't swallow.  Until 1991, scientists had great difficulty quantifying how Bass decide what sized fish to eat.  Correlations between the body size of the bass and the body size of its prey were weak.  It turns out that bass carefully select prey that are smaller (from top to bottom) then the with of the bass' mouth.  This rather obvious (in hindsight) conclusion was made by  observing bass feed on small fish under controlled laboratory conditions.  The researchers found that Bass never ingested fish that were taller than their gaping mouths were wide.

Cats and Social Primates--Fast Friends?

The main reason cats are such improbable companions for human beings has to do with markedly different social behaviors in felines and primates.  That dogs are popular pets is easily explained.  They too are cooperative social animals, in part because of their natural proclivities, but also because of the artificial behaviors we bred into them.  

If you were to describe a typical interaction between two dogs who live together you might use terms like: playful, friendly, cooperative.  Human interactions are often described in the same way.  In fact we enjoy the company of playful, friendly and cooperative peers.  If someone we know is avoidant, aloof or self-interested, we tend think of them as sub-human.

But consider the typical feline.  Those terms, avoidant, aloof and self-interested are quite suiting monikers for cat behaviors.  Cats are not social animals in the way that dogs and humans are.  Take their approach to conflict, for example.  The typical human tries to work trough and resolve conflict with other humans.  We do this through cooperation.  By working together in a coordinated fashion, humans are able to secure individual resources without conflict.  Dogs behave in the same way, both in our homes and in the wild.

Cats, on the other hand, have very limited abilities to resolve conflict.  Instead, they rely heavily on what are called agonistic behaviors, subtle cues that allow them to avoid conflict by avoiding interactions all together.  So the hallmark of a cat that is severely irritated is for that cat to simply walk away.  Irritate a dog, and he'll try everything he can to turn that interaction into play.  Likewise, humans dispel their irritation with others through jokes and laughter.

So why de we enjoy the company of cats at all?  They seem to offer little in the way of benefit to us humans.  The answer can be found in three simple facets of a cats nature that almost no other creature has.  These are:

1. Cats are deadly predators who still posses the means and inclination to kill our enemies, in this case rodents.  Cats keep our farms, homes and city streets free of these agents of famine and disease.  But because they can do this without any modifications to their behavior or anatomy (unlike dogs who must be sculpted to suite our purposes) we've changed them very little over time.
2. Cats are small enough that they cannot present a serious threat to the safety of humans, not even children.  Sure, an angry cat can scratch or bite.  But domestic dogs kill hundreds worldwide every year.  It is estimated that the cost of injuries due to dog bites in the United Stated is in the tens of millions.
3. Cats crap in a box of sand, naturally and with no help from us.  We provide the sand box, they provide the crap.  Dog owners swap their carpets for tile regularly.  And who would dream of keeping a horse indoors?

These may not sound like impressive characteristics, but they have made for a lasting relationship with humans--one that breaks the typical homo-centric model.  Cats are one of the few creatures who live intimately with us who are not also greatly exploited.  Dogs are mini slaves in many homes.  But cats have turned the tables on domestication by making us fulfill all their needs and giving next to nothing in return.

But they are charming!  And you've got to admit that there's something in the human psyche that seems to seek out the ones who try to get away.  Every time my cat sleeps at my daughter's feet, I get insanely jealous.  And every time he spends three seconds bunting up against my leg when I come home from work, I feel like I've just been blessed.

But there is another facet about the cat that I believe will secure them as the most popular pets for years to come.  They fit a niche in the ever changing structure of human life.  Dogs, for all our similarities, are loosing ground in our homes.  They require great chunks of time, space and personal interaction--all resources that are vanishing as the pace of our busy lives quickens.  Cats get by happily with a minimum of these.  And so as modern humans get more and more modern, I think we'll be keeping cats for what little companionship we can pencil in.

Alas, my penance is at an end.  Hopefully, I've done enough to repair my transgressions and and pay my debt of sin.  I leave you with a second touching story of a kitty friend.  This one, again, is anonymous.  Several years ago, a friend of mine nearly ended her life in the upstairs bathroom of her parent's house.  No one realized the depths of depression to which she had fallen.  None of us had taken the time to notice the subtle changes in her personality that should have been so obvious.  Why is she still alive?  Because as she contemplated her end she was not alone.  And her decision to leave us all was postponed by the gentle kneading paws and soothing purr of the cat she had lived with since childhood.

Beat that Lassie!

Why Cats Do Not Make Good Pets

Artificial Selection converts the nasty, bestial and dangerous into cute, cuddly and delicious.  When it comes to cultivating desired qualities, Artificial Selection rivals the most powerful forces of evolution itself, transforming the raw materials of life into a stunning variety of domestic plants and animals.  All at a pace that leaves Natural Selection coughing in the dust of our herds of Jersey Cows, English Bulldogs, Rhode Island Reds and Angora Rabbits.

Chief among the qualities that unite our domestic minions is a trend known as Pedomorphosis, which occurs when adult organisms retain traits that are usually found only in their young.  The adorable apple heads of chihuahuas are an example of such a physical trait. Pedomorphosis can also apply to behavior, as well.  In fact, the physical pedomorphic traits are primarily the result of selection for desired juvenile behaviors.  As it turns out, the genes that control behavior are closely linked to those that shape anatomy.  

As a result, selecting playful, docile, adaptable and friendly behaviors in the animals we bred over thousands of years has dragged along a host of physical traits as well.  Floppy ears, round heads, large eyes, colorful coats and curly or shortened tails are pedomorphic traits that many or most domestic animal share.  

We even see pedomorphic behaviors and physical features in human beings, begging the question did humans evolve by domesticating themselves?

The traits we love (and share with) our dogs are easy to understand.  They remain playful even into old age; they have endearing youthful features that elicit our basic instincts to mother them incessantly; They submit to us readily and follow us like little pups.  As a result, we find dogs trustworthy and loyal companions, despite that their closest kin, the wolves, present a serious danger in close quarters.

The same can be said of our many other domestic friends.  Selection for desirable, juvenile behaviors necessary for our coexistence results in juvenile traits that alter their physical appearances and make man-made varieties obviously different from their wild cousins.

But what of our feline friends?  Surely they have been thoroughly changed as well.  It appears that the benefits of Artificial Selection have been exacted to a lesser degree in cats.  Cats show few if any pedomorphic behaviors, and many a new cat owner has lamented that the cute, friendly, playful kitten they obtained is now a sleek, aloof and lazy adult cat.  So it would seem that cats may have stubbornly refused to follow the typical road to life with human beings.

This brings us to a final question to ponder: Why do we keep cats at all?  If humans have not wielded the tools of Artificial Selection to perfect the feline according to our standards, how is it that cats have become more popular than the variety of domestic dogs, each of which has been meticulously sculpted to fulfill a specific role in our busy lives?

Have cats somehow escaped our notice and thus our genetic tampering?  Or were cats, even in their wild state, simply right for niche they fill?  My answer to this question will be revealed in tomorrow's blog entry.  And we'll see that their successful invasion of our homes relies on three simple traits and a whole lot of charm.

Why We Enjoy the Company of Cats Not Vice Versa

To any cat owner it will come as no surprise to find that our cuddly house pets are in behavior and appearance more like wild animals than most other domesticated creatures.  The average domesticated animal, from pigs to dogs, has be radically changed to suit human interests.  We select for tamer, more docile behaviors.  Or more appealing physical traits such as meatier limbs or shorter tails.  And yet the cat remains relatively unchanged.

Cats display a willfulness and independence that clearly exemplify their self-sustainability.  They can be aloof, often refusing human contact except when it pleases them.  Many stubbornly refuse to be trained, as if the mundanity of learning simple tricks were well beneath them.  Observe a cat stalk and kill a lizard in the garden, and you will see a striking likeness to the deadly hunt of a lion.  Though we have modified coat color and length, the bone structure and physique of the cat remain indistinguishable from their wild, uncivilized cousins.

In part, the untamed nature of a cat has to do with the relatively short time they have lived with humans.  Our relationship with felines goes back only 10,000 years or so (half as long as their imminently placating competitor the dog).  There has been less time for humans to work the magic of artificial selection on the body and temperament of the cat.

Another factor aiding the cat's ability to resist change comes from the nature of its relationship to its captors.  Some scientists argue that the term "domestic" does not easily apply to the cat. They consider cats to be "exploitive captives" who exploit their relationship with humans rather than suffering from it.  

The origin of our relationship with cats has its roots in the cultivation of grain and other crops, and it is tied directly to the hosts of pests who make their living in our silos and pantries.  Cats came by human habitations to capitalize on the plagues of rodents infesting our villages. Because both parties benefit from such an arrangement, our relationship has persisted relatively unchanged even into modern time.  In fact, cats have so effectively upheld their end of the bargain, that humans have not seen fit to seek more of our feline friends, and so are content to accept their wily and untamed natures as they are. 

As a result, when left to their own devices cats revert quickly to their wild state, often forming large populations that sustain themselves without help from humans.  Ever get that look of irritated indifference from your cat?  Now you know why.

Why Cats Matter

Yesterday I made an offhanded remark that raised the hackles of a friend and co-worker.  In a discussion about the nature and value of domestic felines, I insensitively said, "Cats don't give a damn about humans."

While I still hold to the general principle of this statement, I now realize that there is something to be said for tact and decorum.  This blog serves as an apology to my friend, who to preserve his anonymity shall be called Geoff Myers in this blog. (That's Geoff not Jeff, Myers not Meyers)

The reason my comments rubbed Geoff the wrong way, so to speak, is that Geoff tells a remarkable story of a profound bond between himself and one of his pet cats.  My remarks not only trivialized this relationship, but also eroded the foundation for explaining the details of his story.

Geoff recalls a night a few years back when he was awakened when his pet cat bit him painfully on the arm.  Now, I know what you're thinking: What a stupid story.  And I agree, but there are more details to consider.  Geoff did what any cat owner would do when his pet wakes him up in the middle of the night by biting him.  Geoff tossed the cat to the floor and went back to sleep.

That's when the cat did something unexpected--he bit Geoff again and woke him up.  Again, I know what you're thinking: This story just got a little stupider.  And again, you're right.  But consider the following: this time Geoff noticed something unusual about his kitchen.  

It was on fire.

Geoff grabbed his pet and escaped with his, and his cat's nine lives.  So you can see why my remarks were enough to cause Geoff to bristle like a... well... like a cat on Halloween.   This is an obvious story of a common house pet showing uncommon concern for its owner.

As penance for my sins, I hereby dedicate this week to Geoff's and other cats.  Each day this week, I will publish a post that demonstrates the following: 1) The unique and interesting history of the domestication of the cat, 2) How the natural history of the cat makes it an unlikely companion for humans, and 3) How, with the help of a few simple virtues and a lot of charm, cats were able to overcome their disagreeable natures and become the most popular pet in America

The point of these little essays will be to demonstrate, that far from denigrating Geoff's relationship with his cat, my comments only serve to highlight the remarkable nature of Geoff's fury feline friend.  It's not in a cat's nature to be brave, compassionate, social or altruistic.  But from a certain perspective, Geoff's cat was able to rise to occasion despite all this.  It is a story of a good friend overcoming his own catty nature to save a person's life.

As such, it is a lesson for us all and a beacon of no small hope.