ABSTRACT
To seriously examine non-human animals as members of the community that we are all a part of inevitably hits up against the limits of scientific method and quantitative exploration. The rational, detached human subject is the ‘gold standard’ (Warkentin, 2010, p. 103) of scientific knowledge, but it is also the basis for anthropocentric reasoning, hierarchical thinking and a rejection of the affective dimension as epistemologically and ontologically valid. These limitations often cause us to fragment and constrict our understanding of community and to see ourselves as separate from animals and other ‘vibrant matter’ (Bennett, 2010) with whom we share this planet, rather than recognising ourselves as ‘just another thread in the common fabric of community’ (Some, 1997, p. 8). Horowitz (2009) addresses these concerns explicitly. As a scientist, she was wary of anthropomorphising animals. She followed the scientists’ code and method she was trained in – to describe observable and confirmable actions only, to be objective, to avoid explanations that appeal to mental processes or that attribute emotional states. And yet. Horowitz repeats this expression ‘and yet’ in an epimone-like manner throughout her opening chapter. The phrase stands out on the page as a separate paragraph (or stanza), drawing clear and evocative emphasis to its import in her developing argument. The answers to her questions about dogs (and other animals), she recalls, were not found in the clinical data. She concluded that the form and assumptions of empirical science and its emphasis on deductive reasoning was restrictive to her work. Moreover, she struggled with the socialisation that most researchers receive – that we should hide our relationship to our work (Leavy, 2015, p. 3). In other words, that we should keep separate some of the most important aspects of our existence, such as our relationships with the non-human animals with whom we share our lives. In Horowitz’s case, her growing interest in studying canine behaviour developed both from her academic training as a cognitive scientist and from the lived experiences she shared with her dog, Pumpernickel. A similar challenge confronted Haraway. Writing first The Companion Species Manifesto (Haraway, 2003) and then further contemplating the relationship between humans and non-human animals in When Species Meet (Haraway, 2008), Haraway (2003) tells ‘a story of co-habitation, co-evolution, and embodied cross-species sociality’ (p. 4). Both monographs further challenge conventional reportage in their content and form. In her Manifesto, Haraway intersperses theory, philosophical analysis and direct observations with excerpts from her journal. In When Species Meet she inserts letters written to her father, to friends and colleagues and to fellow participants in the sport of canine agility. Similarly, Horowitz (2009) introduces each chapter of Inside of a Dog with notes from her personal journal, notes that describe how her dog wakes her up in the morning, how Pumpernickel asks to go for a walk, how Pump’s vision changes as she ages, how experiencing places with her dog changed the way she came to view and understand city parks, shady paths, street corners and other aspects of her environment.
