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Yes, they make us feel better. But your pet is not your therapist

I’m a psychologist, not a vet, but in every session, I always ensure to ask patients about their pets. I know their names, look through photos and, depending on the patient, sometimes encourage patients to bring their “fur baby” to our therapy sessions.

Pets are an important part of our lives. They provide invaluable contribution to peoples mental health. For a lot of us, pets represent a major impetus to battle through life’s more difficult times.

The 21st-century dog is more likely to be a pampered “fur baby” who sleeps under the doona, dines on organic pasture-raised lamb with ancient grains, enjoys, or endures, spa baths, and is possibly on Prozac.

The 21st-century dog is more likely to be a pampered “fur baby” who sleeps under the doona, dines on organic pasture-raised lamb with ancient grains, enjoys, or endures, spa baths, and is possibly on Prozac.Credit: Richard Phibbs/Trunk Archive/Snapper Images

But the relationship with our mutts and felines has moved beyond adoration. Increasingly, it is morphing into over-identification and, for some, dependence. Now, pets are increasingly being looked to manage their owner’s mental health instead of supplement it.

So let me be clear: Your pet is not your therapist. They are not receptacles for your psychological problems. Animals are not people, and we do a disservice to both us and them by pretending otherwise.

There is a growing tendency to speak through them rather than acknowledging and managing our own concerns. For example, the dog is anxious …

This textbook projection puts feelings or decisions onto creatures who don’t have the capacity to answer us back, let alone the sophisticated thinking necessary to manage the complexities of a human being’s psychological wellbeing.

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There is a sinister shadow to this anthropomorphism (that is, the attribution of human characteristics to animals). Most worryingly, that their elevation can prevent us from dealing with our own stuff, something I see play out time and again in my clinical work.

One couple quarrelled over euthanising their elderly, necrotic cat, with their feline’s ailing health reflecting their terminal relationship. Instead of putting their differences aside to grant a peaceful and timely death to their beloved pet, the looming death seemed a reflection of difficulties in finalising their own break-up. As another woman sold a newly purchased home and cited her dogs’ discomfort and dislike of their new palatial digs, I wondered about her reluctance to admit buyer’s remorse, instead needing to attribute the expensive and inconvenient decision to her dogs. There was an employee who cited their pets’ separation anxiety as the reason for refusing to return to the office after the easing of COVID restrictions; it doesn’t take a psychologist to guess that it was the person, not their pets, who was highly anxious about the change.

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Outside the therapy room, anthropomorphism is seeping into our cafés, supermarkets, and hardware stores. Dogs and cats are soon to be allowed on domestic flights. Hounds are apparently essential companions for a Saturday afternoon Bunnings trip. Children are outnumbered by canines at my kids’ primary school pick-up. Assurances from dog owners that their precious pooch would never bite anyone is little comfort to people whose preference is to not share public space with animals, whether due to phobias, allergies, or any of the many other valid reason. When did we get to the point that people come second to animals and a human needs to explain why they don’t wish to share space with your pet?

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There are countless social media accounts of dogs and cats with captions written in the animal’s “voice” and penned by “their hooman” or their “ma” or “pa” (read: owners). Then there are furries, a niche group of society who identify as animals and dress as such. How about a dog dining on $30 steaks while most families are experiencing the crunch of cost-of-living expenses or Britain’s wealthiest family spending more on pet food than on their employee’s wages. Or Oscar the cavoodle, whose impressive wardrobe was showcased during a recent court case.

Animals do, of course, have an important role in our lives. A trained assistance animal can provide invaluable service and much-needed comfort in contexts such as therapy and court proceedings. Family pets can teach children lessons in love, responsibility, and loss. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with enjoying snuggling up on the sofa with your cat or dog at the end of a long day. But the focus here is enhancing the wellbeing of people, rather than putting animals on a veritable pedestal.

Outside of these settings, animals and their many endearing antics provide a necessary reprieve from the doldrums and vicissitude of everyday life. A much-needed rush of endorphins, and an antidote to the less than palatable news of geopolitical crises, politics, and property prices is something we can all benefit from.

Time spent with our pets is never wasted. But people should be prioritised in our time, too. Ultimately, the animals will be fine. But the humans may not.

Dr Bianca Denny is a practising clinical psychologist based in Melbourne.

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Original URL: https://www.theage.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/yes-they-make-us-feel-better-but-your-pet-is-not-your-therapist-20240627-p5jp7v.html