on the idea that there is no difference between dogs and humans. There are differences and to ignore them is disrespectful to both species. I agree with Singer’s (2004) view that the concept of equality extends beyond treating different animals in exactly the same way or giving all the same rights. The important point is not equal treatment, but equal consideration, which can lead to different rights for different animals. ‘Consideration’ becomes the key word here: of truly listening to and considering the ‘other’, human or otherwise.
Cultural Constructions of ‘Dog’ and the Human Owner/Companion
As Bekoff (2007: 156) noted: ‘How animal images and live animals are represented in advertisements, on television, in movies, in cartoons, and in other forms of entertainment influence what people come to believe about them.’ In this way the media may be seen as the constructor of the sociocultural view of the ‘dog’. Yet this is an oversimplification of a more complex reality that is at the heart of the never-ending debate surrounding the relation between human agency and structure. The media as the representation of culture certainly builds a picture of what a dog is and how it relates to humans and should be treated, but the media is itself influenced by the images held by the individual. In effect it is a never-ending feedback loop with no beginning and no end. To try and find which originally caused the other is a fruitless endeavour when the reality is that they are both intimately related to one another. The situation is even more complicated when it is recognized that we are dealing with not just the view of humans but the dogs’ perspective as well. This leads to the question of whether the sentience of the dog is simply a product of human cultural constructs or a reality now being integrated into human culture. The answer is that one feeds off the other. Dog sentience is real but its specific nature is coloured in the eyes of humans by human culture, which in turn is influenced by the media.
There are instances where fictional dogs have morphed into physical tourist attractions, as shown in Fig. 1.2 where Gromit, of Wallace and Gromit fame, has become a larger-than-life and very colourful tourist attraction in parts of the UK; the representation in Fig. 1.2 was spotted outside the entrance to Bristol Zoo. Statues such as the Gromit one are popular tourist attractions because of how they depict the character seen on television and at the movies. They are a physical embodiment of the anthropomorphic fictional character and as such they help to reinforce the message that Gromit purveys: that dogs are sentient beings capable of multiple complex feelings and feats. In this way Gromit provides an excellent example of how society perceives and constructs the dog. Yet these perceptions and constructions can also be influenced by the reality of dogs and their own inherent characteristics. The list of other dogs who have been portrayed in human culture and in doing so helped to shape how we view dogs is without end. It includes, among others, my own favourite; Dog, a cartoon character created by Murray Ball and a wonderful representation of both the Collie and the quintessential New Zealand farm. A detailed examination of the role of dogs in fictional media is beyond the scope of the present work, but will be examined in a chapter of a book I am editing about domesticated animals (Carr, forthcoming a).
Fig. 1.2. Gromit at Bristol Zoo, UK (2013).
Just as the dog is a cultural construct in the eyes of humans, so is the dog owner or human companion. Society depicts acceptable images of dog owners and human companions, helping in the process to mould the behaviour of these people and how they wish to be perceived by society. At the same time, the behaviour of these people influences media representations of the ‘good’ dog owner. These images are depicted both in factual and fictional media: the latter including everything from Wallace (the ‘owner’ of Gromit) to Wal Footrot (the owner of Dog) and George (the Famous Five owner of Timmy).
Culturally and Temporally Specific Nature of Dogs and Human–Dog Relations
Given that the nature of the dog (as viewed by humans) and the dog owner is a cultural construct of humans and that culture is both temporally and spatially specific (Massey and Jess, 1995; Gullotta et al., 2000), it is not surprising that how dogs are viewed and the relations between them and humans are specific to time and place. In this way definitions of the ‘good’ dog and the ‘good’ dog owner are also specific to place and time. While there is plenty of observable evidence to support these claims, and many of this will be highlighted throughout this book, it is worth noting that to date: ‘Cross-cultural comparisons of dog behaviour and dog-keeping practices are limited’ (Wan et al., 2009: 206).
The place and time specific cultural definitions of dogs and their relations with humans colour the rules and regulations relating to the governing of dogs’ behaviour and where they are allowed to go. Consequently, as we will see in this book, laws, rules and regulations governing dogs alter temporally and spatially. This reality also applies to the unwritten social rules about dogs and their owners. Everything from the exercising of dogs, sports associated with dogs and whether dogs are allowed inside the family home and on the furniture, to the eating of dog meat and the provision of cuisine and holidays for dogs are influenced by and specific to culture. When talking about temporal specificity it is important to remember that this refers not only to linear time but also to differences between human generations.
The result, as will be seen throughout the book, is that the experiences and position of dogs in leisure are constantly changing and contested, with conflicts often occurring between different groups. The nature of these conflicts and the philosophical issues they often throw up will be discussed throughout the book with an attempt to provide potential roadmaps that may contribute to conflict resolution. Such paths often entail compromise, as will be seen, but they need to recognize the sentience of dogs so they become actors in the process rather than merely objects that can be positioned at the whim of humanity.
Author’s Own Standpoint
Writing anything for public consumption always requires authors to place their ideas and beliefs on display because only by doing this can the written word be contextualized and believed or fairly rejected. As such, this public display is both unnerving and empowering (for both the reader and the author). Often, such displays are either hidden in between the written words or behind a public mask that is all too often constructed around the beliefs of others, commonly famous philosophers from history (Foucault being very popular in certain fields, for example).
This entire book and everything dog related within it is a consequence of the fact that I am a dog owner so it seems appropriate to begin explaining my standpoint by giving a brief background about how I have reached this point in my life and the implications of it. My first dog, Snuffie, entered my life as an 8-week-old Border Collie mongrel in February 2001, from the Queensland RSPCA in Brisbane. She was ostensibly to be a dog for my 2-year-old son, with the two of them able to grow up together. By this point in my life I was 29 years old and had never had anything other than a goldfish as a pet. As a child, dogs had never really entered my life and my only brief encounters with them had been rather scary. I was not, it is fair to say, a dog person, a dog lover, in any respect. This was all to change and I could and perhaps should write an entire book about the journey but this is not that book so I will skip over all but the barest bones. Simply put, in the 9 years prior to her untimely death (I sat with her after much soul searching while our family friend and vet administered a lethal injection to put her to sleep and out of the misery that was a slow-spreading but inoperable cancer in her spinal column), Snuffie became my dog
