There has been a movement lately, primarily in the field of psychology, investigating whether animals have the ability to experience “human” emotions, specifically love. Now I imagine the majority of you with animal companions are smiling knowingly to yourselves at this inquiry, but given the increasing presence of therapy animals in hospitals, pediatric cancer wards, nursing homes, and on the front lines of natural and man-made disasters, the question does warrant scientific inquiry. Are our nonhuman friends simply performing as trained, or do they actually feel love for we lesser beings?
It is obvious that a dog or cat does not see us as a mere food dispenser (well, the dog, anyway). They are genuinely attached to us, as with any family member. But if attachment is a reflection of love, as it definitely is with humans, then animals are without doubt capable of this deepest of emotions. Dogs in particular mourn the death of their humans; some have been known to spend nights on their master’s graves. Therapy and nontherapy dogs, cats, and horses will approach a crying human and exhibit submissive behavior, providing comfort in a reversal of the usual caregiver-recipient role. Recent studies have demonstrated that this is not a matter of simple curiosity but based on a deep and intuitive understanding of human distress and a capacity for true empathy.
Although grieving individuals usually desire the presence of another human being, under duress the quality of connection becomes more important than the origin. When we are ill—and especially when we are chronically ill—we feel lonely, isolated, and out of contact with the normal routines of everyday life. Longstanding illness or disability, with its attendant specter of social and cultural rejection, serves to intensify a sense of separation and isolation, reflected by the discomfort most healthy people feel when in the presence of those afflicted.
In contrast, many of our animal companions not only accept us when we are sick, disabled, depressed, grieving, or afraid, but are delighted to have unlimited alone time with their beloved human. While this may be an emotional lift during bouts of the flu for most of us, it can be an absolute soul-saving presence for those afflicted with disabilities lasting months, years, or lifetimes, as well as for those who are trapped within dysfunctional families, an aging body, or prisons of stone or of the mind.
In fact, for many who are alone, life can be as much about caring as it is about being cared for; if a sick or disabled person can keep an animal happy, alive, and thriving, the individual experiences a sense of empowerment that can only enhance personal health and healing. This occurs not only with companion animals like Fido and Fluffy, but also through connections with wild animals (think of the elderly woman in the tattered coat feeding pigeons in the park). When one feels useful and needed, one strives to become and remain healthy in order to continue caring for those that need support. It is not uncommon in hospitals to find pet owners insisting upon early discharge so that they can get back to their responsibilities. In fact, I find the most common reason for refusal of admission in the ER, even during a heart attack, is “I have to get home and take care of my dog.”
Are animals taught how to love, or is it innate in all species? In humans, to truly love is to be open, to surrender, to drop all personal boundaries that cause distance and separation. The act of love cannot exist in the past or future, but only manifests in the present moment. Unfortunately, such presence generally eludes those of us at the pinnacle of the food chain; we tend not to live in the moment, but in the intellectual, time-bound fantasies of past and future. Animals, however, not only live in the moment, but can live nowhere else.
As medical professionals with a goal of facilitating wholeness in the highest and best sense of the word, and to strive for a medicine that is integrative and healthcare that is integral, our perspective needs to embrace not only the human up-close and personal, but also the human in context with the natural world, specifically in relation to other sentient beings. And those who will help us reach such a goal may at this moment be waiting for us at home.
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