The little girl looked up at her mother and asked a simple question, “Mama, does Rascal love me?”
In nearly twenty years of veterinary practice I hadn’t heard that question before and certainly not from a six-year old. Rascal was at my clinic and was very ill. As in chances-are-he’s-not-going-to-make-it ill. I had just remarked that I was sure Rascal loved his family very much. Now I wondered if it were really true.
Proving love is tricky. I love my parents, my wife and children, sister and even my kid brother. I believe they love me (even my brother). I also love my four pets and feel they love me in return. But how do I really know? Turns out I’m far from alone in pondering this question.
One of the earliest Greek philosophers, Empedocles, defined the four classical elements of fire, earth, air and water. What is seldom noted is his proposal that Love and Strife actually created and separated the elements. But he couldn’t prove it. Confucius, Plato, Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas and practically every great mind has deeply explored the concept of love. Is it real? Where did it come from? Where does it reside? Is love unique to humans? And you know what? We’re still no closer to answering this girl’s question.
So after realizing the combined genius of Sigmund Freud and a bunch of other snooty intellectuals could do no better than a “maybe,” I figured I’d give it a try.
I sat cross-legged on the floor and asked the child, “Does your mommy love you?”
“Yes! And I love her, too.” She smiled at her mom.
“Good.” I replied. “And does your mommy make you feel good and happy when you’re with her?”
“Yes. She makes me laugh a lot.”
“And does your mommy smile when she sees you in the morning and puts you to bed at night?”
“Yes, sir. My mommy is always happy.”
“And does Rascal wag his tail and get excited when you see him in the morning or after you come home from daycare?”
“He goes crazy and licks me all over!” she practically squealed with delight.
“And does he curl up next to you when you’re sleeping? Does that make you feel happy inside?”
“Rascal makes me feel very happy. He’s my best friend in the whole wide world.”
“All of those things tell me that Rascal loves you very much. You see, love is a special feeling between you and Rascal that makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. Do you think Rascal thinks you’re the most important person in the world?”
“Me and mom are his most favorite people.”
“And is Rascal very important to you?”
“Yes. He’s my best friend and I love him very much.”
“That settles it. I believe Rascal loves you.”
I don’t really know how the philosophers and scientists don’t get it. To reduce the relationship many (most) of us have with our pets to simply “food-oriented” or a “conditioned response” is insulting. My wife could make the same argument about me: she feeds me well and I get very excited to see her at the end of a long day. But the love we share is deeper than her (awesome!) cooking. Love is a special gift and I cherish it whenever it enters my life. And I know love when I feel it, despite whatever research and big-word books might say. Rascal agrees.
