A New Kind of Human-Animal Bond

by Janice Moster

I'm not going to beat around the bush. What I say may hurt a few million people, but the truth is, those people probably are natural cry-babies.

So here it is—just a raw, unvarnished bite of reality distilled for easy obsessing: Owners of pedigreed dogs often bear a striking resemblance to their pooches.

There, I've said it, and I won't take responsibility for whatever you or your loved ones do with this information. After all, it's just another scientific theory expounded by just another academic genius. Two, actually. Nicholas Christenfeld and Michael Roy are psychologists at the University of California-San Diego.

Although they spent a lot of time researching the human-animal bond, most "dog people" already knew about this special "twinning" effect. But since the scientific community never published a boring treatise on it (something along the lines of "The Psychological and Cognitive Anomalies Influencing the Unconscious Decision-Making Process with Respect to Breed Choice"), the theory self-destructed.

Luckily, however, it was reborn at a state conference for California college deans. One thing led to another, and administrators at UC-San Diego instructed Christenfeld and Roy to "find out what this owner-dog look-alike thing" was all about.

Well, the two professors carried out their mission, but not without offending a sizeable amount of the nation's population. And surprisingly, it's not the owners with mutts (defined as "dogs that do not have special books and magazines devoted to them") who are having hissy fits.

But before we get off on that tangent, let's return to Christenfeld's and Roy's study. The two professors meandered around three dog parks in San Diego, photographing pets and their owners separately. Then they assembled 28 student judges (who may or may not have been compensated for their efforts, a variable that could conceivably affect the validity of the research). The students were then told to match the owners with their pets.

I ask you, what kind of student gives up an Angelina Jolie moviethon to sit at a bridge table and fondle photos? Obviously these young men and women are of questionable intelligence. If they would rather look at a Golden Retriever's lanky coat and connect it to a Jennifer Aniston look-alike's hairdo, then these college kids need to get off mind-altering drugs and get a life.

Anyway, the students matched 16 out of 25 purebreds, but correctly matched only 7 out of 20 Heinz-69 canines. Naturally, the college students felt bad about messing up the "mutt part," but since this is California and no one wallows in negative energy for more than a New York minute, reactions to the results were mixed.

"Examining photos without my contacts always weakens my aura," said a young woman dressed in a fetching turban and robe. "Plus I grew up in Santa Barbara, so I never really got to know any mutts."

The two researchers fared the worst. By the time the study was published in the May issue of Psychological Science, they could hardly talk about the results without crying or becoming nauseated.

It's no great surprise, then, that the study has not been widely endorsed. First of all, persons owning pedigrees say they are verbally harassed by strangers who boldly come up to them, sneer and say things like, "Your Collie and you have the same noses" or "Has anyone told you that your poodle and you have that same frizzy, hard-to-manage hair?" One couple who enjoyed hiking with their St. Bernard had to give the sport up. "People said they couldn't stand all the drooling." the pair sobbed.

AKC canines have begun to retaliate. For instance, I sat down with my Schnauzer the other day and the first thing I know she's pointing at my eyebrows and skipping around the house laughing hysterically. So I had to drop everything and tear over to the salon for an eyebrow wax-and-shape job.

Still, it's mutt owners who have turned up their noses, so to speak. They feel it disrespects the whole mixed-breed thing. One owner whined, "Bubba and I feel so ostracized from dogdom that I pitched my Westminster video into the garbage."

And I know exactly how they feel. Today, I'm running around the house packing to go to a dog show when my yellow Lab ambles over. He calmly gives me the once-over, then places his paw on my shoulder. It's almost as if he's saying, "Funny, you don't look like a Jack Russell terrier. Why are you running around so crazy?"

And I've got to admit he's right. I need to cool it like my lab, er, late great Aunt Hattie. So I think I'm going to curl up here in this big ol' chair and take a snooze. Maybe then I'll forget about stats and fake correlations and dream of steak and fries instead. A lab—ergh, lady—can always hope!

Copyright © Janice Moster 2005