ON DRESSING UP YOUR PETS
Posted by Alexandra Horowitz
 It’s the final week of our Critterati contest (winners will be announced on Wednesday). The New Yorker Magazine's Book Bench asked one of our judges, Alexandra Horowitz, the author of  Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know, how your pet might feel about being dressed up.
It’s the final week of our Critterati contest (winners will be announced on Wednesday). The New Yorker Magazine's Book Bench asked one of our judges, Alexandra Horowitz, the author of  Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know, how your pet might feel about being dressed up.  The philosopher Thomas Nagel famously asked, in his titular essay, “What is it like to be a bat?”: what, in essence, is the subjective experience of a non-human animal?
Around this time of year, one might revise Nagel’s query to “What is it like to be a bat—dressed in a Superman costume?” Or, more accurately for of many contemporary American pets, “What might a dog (or cat or hamster or parrot) think of being costumed and festooned, or forced to don a hat and fake mustache in our celebration of Halloween?”
Inasmuch as I can speak to the experience of any animal (including members of my own species), my answer is “The dog, he does not like it”.
 On the other hand, to put raiments on a dog is to blithely ignore his essential dogness. Consider the Canis part of his heritage. Both wolves and dogs are descended from some wolflike ancestor; thus, we might look at the behavior of the dog’s cousin, the present-day wolf (Canis lupus), in order to provide one explanation for dog behavior. Among wolves, one animal may “stand over” another: literally placing his body on top of and touching the other, as a scolding or a mild putting-in-one’s-place. To a dog, a costume, fitting tight around the dog’s midriff and back, might well reproduce that ancestral feeling. So the principal experience of wearing a costume would not be the experience of festivity; rather, the costume produces the discomfiting feeling that someone higher ranking is nearby. This interpretation is borne out by many dogs’ behavior when getting dressed in a costume: they may freeze in place as if they are being “dominated”—and soon try to dislodge the garments by shaking, pawing, or rolling in something so foul that it necessitates immediate disrobing.
On the other hand, to put raiments on a dog is to blithely ignore his essential dogness. Consider the Canis part of his heritage. Both wolves and dogs are descended from some wolflike ancestor; thus, we might look at the behavior of the dog’s cousin, the present-day wolf (Canis lupus), in order to provide one explanation for dog behavior. Among wolves, one animal may “stand over” another: literally placing his body on top of and touching the other, as a scolding or a mild putting-in-one’s-place. To a dog, a costume, fitting tight around the dog’s midriff and back, might well reproduce that ancestral feeling. So the principal experience of wearing a costume would not be the experience of festivity; rather, the costume produces the discomfiting feeling that someone higher ranking is nearby. This interpretation is borne out by many dogs’ behavior when getting dressed in a costume: they may freeze in place as if they are being “dominated”—and soon try to dislodge the garments by shaking, pawing, or rolling in something so foul that it necessitates immediate disrobing.We are, ultimately, a culture of celebrants, and our dogs will be included in that celebration, regardless. But if you are willing to be that over-exposed owner aside your over-dressed and be-costumed dog for Halloween, I feel certain your dog would appreciate the gesture.
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
