Your cat may mean the world to you, but in American courts she’s no different than a TV or an air fryer.
With a quick resolution to a UK cat theft that made international news, it’s become clear that our friends across the Atlantic are way ahead of us in crafting laws that protect animals.
In the US, the legal system views pets as property. You can see the vestiges of our agricultural past in the way animal-related crimes are categorized. Here in New York, they’re found in Agriculture and Markets law, not the state penal code.
The former was written to handle things like compensation for killed or stolen livestock, not to recognize the emotional damage a thief does to both the person and pet when they’re separated.
Today laws forbidding puppy mills and defining the responsibilities of municipal pounds are lumped in with legislation governing things like farm fencing and how horses may be tested for performance-enhancing drugs ahead of county fairs. It’s archaic, confusing and limits the legal consequences for mistreating pets.
Credit: Breno Cardoso/Pexels
That means the penalties for stealing someone’s beloved dog or cat amount to a slap on the wrist. Your cat may mean the world to you, but in the eyes of the court she’s worth the $175 fee for adoption and shots you paid to a shelter.
That’s also why police enforcement is a crapshoot. If someone makes off with your furry friend, you might get lucky when you find out the local sheriff loves his dogs dearly and makes sure animal-related crime is taken seriously.
Or you might get a desk sergeant who thinks you’re wasting department resources, glowers at you from behind the desk as you submit your report, and leaves it in a pile with other things he believes are beneath the dignity of real police.
It’s easy to blame the police, but their attitudes are impacted by the outdated laws and a society that hasn’t caught up. SPCA law enforcement officers are often treated like Ace Ventura with a badge, and police agencies are reluctant to devote significant resources to cases that will amount to misdemeanor charges, which can be pleaded down further in court.
Credit: Alexandros Chatzidimos/Pexels
Compare that to the West Yorkshire police, who launched an investigation when security camera footage showed an Amazon delivery driver stealing a family’s cat a week ago. Happily the feline has been reunited with her people and is back home, but neither the driver nor the company are off the hook, as the police still have an active investigation.
In the UK, courts take animal-related crimes seriously, and so do the police. That’s because of several important pieces of legislation, starting with the Animal Welfare Sentience Act of 2022.
The law finally frees cats and dogs from any remaining association with property laws. Instead they’re viewed as what they are, sentient creatures who have their own feelings. It also recognizes animals like the octopus, which can be startlingly intelligent.
That opens the door to legislation like the Pet Abduction Prevention Act of 2024, which takes into account the trauma to the human and animal victims. Both dogs and cats are likely to be deeply confused and distressed at being taken from their people, and cats in particular don’t do well when removed from their territory.
When a judge sentences a person for, say, stealing a family’s beloved senior dog, he can take into account the stress both the family and dog endured, and the disruption to their lives. When a couple breaks up and both sides fight over a cat, the judge can base a decision at least in part on what’s best for the kitty.
You can’t do that when a law says the animal in question is no more important than a toaster.
The 2024 law cited more than 2,000 dog abductions and more than 400 cat thefts in 2020, and it has legal teeth — judges have discretion to put convicted pet thieves behind bars for as many as five years.
American lawmakers should take a look at how things are done across the pond. At a time when rancorous politics and divisive ideology stains almost everything, this is an opportunity for legislators of all ideological stripes to work together, earning a win for themselves, and most importantly, for animals.
How do you ensure people will heed warnings to steer clear of nuclear waste storage sites thousands of years in the future? One outlandish proposal involves genetically engineering domestic cats to glow in the presence of radiation.
Imagine you’re a person living five thousand years downstream.
Maybe civilization collapsed and restarted, maybe records were lost, or maybe like Etruscan, Harappan and proto-Elamite, the languages we speak today will be long forgotten.
At any rate, if you discover a forceful warning left by your ancestors from the deep past, would you understand it without translation or cultural context?
And if you’re the one tasked with leaving the message, how would you do it?
The message has to be enduring. It must be recorded in a format that will withstand the tests of time, conquest and natural disasters. The message must be comprehensible without cultural context, because we have no idea how language will shift in the future or whether our descendants will enjoy the knowledge that comes with continuity of records.
Lastly, the message must be both compelling and absolute in its meaning, because its content is vitally important: This site contains nuclear waste. Do not under any circumstances excavate or disturb the contents of this facility. It will lead to sickness, suffering and death.
The traditional trefoil warning sign is unlikely to scare anyone off. The new radiation hazard sign, right, seems unambiguous, but so do warnings on Egyptian tombs.
How do you phrase that in a way our naturally curious species will heed the message?
We certainly didn’t heed the warnings on the tombs of King Tut and other pharaohs. For all we know, humans of the future might believe the hidden chambers deep in Yucca mountain or buried 3,000 feet underground are filled with fabulous treasures and wonders beyond imagination.
They might interpret the warnings as superstition, meant to ward off looters, “grave robbers” and anyone else who might be motivated to break in. They might see the care and effort that went into encasing the objects and conclude there must be something very much worth preserving inside.
Or they might be driven by simple curiosity, as so many human endeavors have been.
A tour group visiting the incomplete Yucca Mountain nuclear waste storage facility. Credit: Daniel Meyer/Wikimedia Commons
Arguments about how to warn the future are at least as old as the Manhattan Project (1942) and the first nuclear power plants (1954 in the USSR, 1958 in the US), but there weren’t serious efforts to come up with a plan until the 1970s, when scientists, historians and other thinkers began to engage in formal efforts to find a long-lasting solution.
Some of the ideas are boring, some are impractical, and some are absurd, like an idea to create a “garden of spikes” atop nuclear material waste sites, to discourage people from settling in the area or excavating.
Unfortunately, one idea that’s still being kicked around is the concept of the radiation cat, or raycat.
Knowledge and language may be lost to history, signage may be destroyed, physical obstacles may be removed. But one constant that has endured, that has seen empires rise and fall, and has existed long before Stonehenge and the pyramids of Giza, is the human relationship with cats.
They’re now valued as companions, but we still use them as mousers on ships, in heavily populated cities, in ancient structures and on farms and vineyards.
They’re embedded so deep into our cultural psyche that it would not be outlandish to think the archaeologists of the future may conclude the internet was constructed primarily to facilitate the exchange of images of cats.
Even the first high-bandwidth deep space transmission was a video of a cat, so in a very real sense, the dawn of a solar system-wide internet was heralded by an ultra high definition clip of an orange tabby named Taters, beamed back to earth from the exploratory spacecraft Psyche, which was 19 million miles away when it transmitted Taters on Dec. 11, 2023.
Consider also that the basic felid body plan — shared by domestic kitties, tigers, pumas, black-footed cats and the 37 other extant species — has barely changed in 30 million years, because cats are extremely successful at what they do.
In other words, cats aren’t going away, and domestic felines have a place in every human society.
So philosophers Françoise Bastide and Paolo Fabbri conceived of the “living warning” in 1984. The idea is to alter the genetic code of felis catus so that the animals glow or change color in the vicinity of nuclear waste, using minuscule levels of radiation as the trigger.
There are natural precedents for this, including bioluminescence and several species of octopus that radically change colors and patterns on their skin to evade predators.
The second component, once the genetic code has been altered, is the creation of folklore: songs, stories and myths that will endure through time, warning people to keep cats close, treat them well, and run like hell if they change color because it means something terrible, something evil beyond imagination, is nearby.
To ensure the folklore of feline Geiger counters endures, an idea by linguist and semiotician Thomas Sebeok would be incorporated. Although empires and states rise and fall, there’s one organization that has survived for 2,000 years preserving a unified message: the Catholic church.
Sebeok proposed an atomic priesthood, an order that would pass the knowledge down through generations, continually seeding culture with stories and songs of glowing felines.
Spent nuclear fuel rods are stored in on-site pools at the facilities where they were used, but pools are meant only as temporary storage solutions. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
If this stuff sounds wacky, that’s because it is. We won’t figure out a way to ensure a message is received and understood thousands of years in the future without considering some off-the-wall plans.
Of course messing with the genetic code of any animal raises serious ethical questions.
We don’t have the right to play God and tinker with the genetic code of extant species. We don’t fully understand the immediate consequences for the health and happiness of cats, and we know almost nothing about the long-term effects on the species.
I’d also argue that we have a special relationship with cats and dogs, one that exceeds any obligations we may feel toward our primate “cousins” or other non-human animals.
Cats and dogs have been living with humans for a combined 40,000 years. They have been molded by us, they are dependent on us, and all that time in human proximity has led to unique changes.
No animals on this planet can match them when it comes to reading human emotions. Our little buddies pick up on our emotional states before we’re consciously aware of them partly because of their robust sensoriums, and partly because as their caretakers, our business is their business.
A clip of a cat named Taters was the first data burst transmitted to Earth using NASA’s upgraded deep space network. Credit: NASA/JPL
We bear a responsibility to both species and the individual animals. It’s not just the fact that without them, our lives would feel less meaningful. It’s the indisputable fact that without them — without dogs who flushed out prey on yhr hunt and guarded small settlements, without cats who prevented mass starvation by hunting down rodents — we would not be here.
Cats and dogs play a major role in the story of the human race. We are indelibly linked. Their DNA is not ours to tinker with, and they are not tools we can repurpose at our convenience.
Thankfully the US Department of Energy has never endorsed the concept of raycats. While there is a website advocating for a raycat program and small groups around the world dedicated to its propagation, the interest is mostly academic.
The Raycat Solution, which maintains a site dedicated to the idea, has a FAQ which says its supporters are serious about its potential usefulness, but for now most experts see it as a thought experiment and reminder that the problem must be dealt with eventually. At some point NIMBY will have to yield to reality, and wherever the US ends up storing nuclear waste, it’ll need to be secured, sealed and marked.
The goal is for the message to endure at least 10,000 years, at which point scientists say the radiation will be minimal.
That’s assuming that the future holds the collapse and rebuilding of human civilization, or at least a technological backslide in which the majority of our species’ knowledge is lost.
We like to think things will be brighter than that and instead of glowing to warn people of danger, cats of the far future will be where they belong — with their human buddies, exploring new frontiers on starships with plenty of comfortable napping spots.
Header image depicts the Alvin Ward Vogtle Nuclear Power Plant in Georgia, the largest nuclear plant in the US. Image via Wikimedia Commons/NRC
[1] The nuclear waste storage facility at Yucca Mountain was initially funded and approved by congress in 2002, then was canceled and de-funded in 2011 after significant pushback from people who live in Nevada, along with their representatives in congress. Plans for the site have changed several times in more than two decades, leaving the US with no central, secure site to store nuclear waste.
Service animals and emotional support animals are not the same thing.
A Quiet Place: Day One stars Lupita Nyong’o as Samira, a terminally ill woman, and Joseph Quinn as her nurse, Eric.
But it’s the third main cast member — a feline named Frodo — who’s been hailed as the surprise star of the film, which one reviewer called “a love letter to cat owners.”
Nyong’o’s Sam has been given the equivalent of a death sentence with her aggressive cancer diagnosis, but when the nightmarish creatures who play the antagonists of the Quiet Place franchise arrive, Sam fights for her life with her trusty “service cat” by her side.
“You can’t have a cat in here,” the clerk at a bodega tells Sam early in the film, before she fixes him with a no-nonsense stare and flatly declares: “He’s a service cat.”
The adorable Frodo, co-star of A Quiet Place: Day One.
You’ve probably heard stories or seen photos of people trying to take other animals into places they’d normally never be allowed. In 2019, a woman decided to push the boundaries by taking a miniature horse onto a domestic flight, forcing passengers to share extremely limited space with the olfactorily potent, skittish animal. She even scolded social media users who didn’t get the horse’s pronouns “correct.” (They’re she/her, by the way. We’re not making this up.)
The woman, who says she needs the horse because she suffers from PTSD, told Omaha, Nebraska’s KMTV that the managers of a grocery store allegedly violated her rights by asking her to leave rather than allow her to march a horse through a place where people buy food and its operators are required to follow Department of Health rules.
“I was treated so poorly and the manager’s responses when I followed up were poor,” she said. “They are going to be hearing from the Department of Justice and I’m definitely going to be pursuing legal means as well.”
In 2023, a man tried to take a “service alligator” to a Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park. Stadium security weren’t buying it and he was turned away, but not before other fans snapped photos of the attempt. In Nevada, a man who had his USDA license revoked for “multiple violations of the Animal Welfare Act” argued that authorities couldn’t confiscate his 10 tigers because he claimed they are emotional support animals.
“My doctor has written that she feels that the tigers are beneficial to my psychological well-being and so therefore I got what the law requires,” Karl Mitchell told KTNV, an ABC affiliate in Las Vegas.
An emotional support tiger depicted in a Reddit photoshop contest for the most ridiculous “service animals.” Maybe some ambitious dreamer will cook up a service elephant or an emotional support bison.
Since then the FAA and Department of Transportation have issued new rules clarifying emotional support horses, peacocks, flying squirrels, parrots and other animals are not allowed on planes, prompting one flight attendant to quip that “The days of Noah’s Ark in the sky are over.”
That, however, has not put a dent in the confusion over what constitutes a service animal versus an emotional support animal, and what rights people have when it comes to bring their furry (or scaly, or feathered) friends into public and private spaces.
Although we’re happy to see Nyong’o in her first lead role since 2019’s freaky horror thriller Us, unfortunately A Quiet Place: Day One is almost certain to contribute to that confusion with its fictional “service cat” character.
A service animal and an emotional support animal are not the same thing
First, there’s an important distinction between a service animal and an emotional support animal.
Service animals can only be dogs or miniature horses, and must be trained. People who depend on service animals can train them themselves, but the animal must meet specific needs, like guiding the blind or vision-impaired.
Emotional support animals, by contrast, are not trained, certified or “official” in any capacity. Anyone can adopt or buy an animal and call it an “emotional support animal.”
A Phillies fan’s “emotional support alligator.” The stadium turned him and his carnivorous apex predator companion down. Credit: Howard Eskin/X
Unfortunately due to the confusion involving service animals vs ESAs, predatory sites have popped up online promising to “officially register” ESAs for a fee.
In addition to charging for something that doesn’t exist, the proprietors of those sites also tell people they can take their “officially registered” support animals into places normally off limits to pets, like stores and restaurants. Some sites offer consultations with alleged mental health professionals who will “diagnose” customers remotely and write letters on the customer’s behalf.
Abrea Hensley with her miniature horse, Flirty, in an aquarium. Hensley’s social media accounts document all the places she goes with the animal.
Those sites operate similar to the numerous “buy a star” sites that claim celestial objects can be officially owned. Like their emotional support animal “registry” counterparts, the star sale sites offer official-looking paperwork, but they’re selling something that can’t legally be sold, and the certificates are legally and practically meaningless.
Buying a “certification” won’t make your cat a service feline, and contrary to how they’re portrayed in the movie, calling a pet an emotional support animal does not allow you to bring it anywhere you like.
For legal purposes, there’s only one perk to be had by claiming an emotional support animal: under the Fair Housing Act, landlords generally cannot refuse tenants who have emotional support animals. The act specifies that allowing emotional support animals is limited by “reasonable accommodations.” That means a dog or a cat is okay, but you can’t keep an animal that poses a danger to your neighbors, negatively impacts their quality of life, or requires the landlord to make major and costly alterations.
The general trend in recent years has involved curbing the limits of emotional support animals, a trend that appears likely to continue as more people abuse the privilege, burdening other members of the public by insisting they must silently endure the inconvenience, potential allergic reactions, sanitary concerns and practical problems caused by bringing animals into spaces that are not designed to accommodate them.
While we’re certainly sympathetic to pet owners — this blog wouldn’t exist if we were not — the fact is that the more people abuse societal boundaries with emotional support animals, the more difficult it makes things for people who have legitimate service dogs and rely on them to navigate life and maintain their independence.
Note: This post has been updated to further distinguish between service animals and emotional support animals. An earlier version contained a paragraph with potentially confusing phrasing.
h/t Susan Mercurio for pointing out that emotional support animals are coveted by the Fair Housing Act
We will be with our extended family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Buddy won’t be at the large family gatherings on Christmas Eve (allergic family members) or Christmas Day (three pooches will be present and obviously you can’t have a Buddinese tiger walking loose, for the dogs’ protection), but he will get to participate in the Christmas morning gift-giving among immediate family, he’ll get leftovers and he’s already had quite a bit of excitement with my nieces around.
We have Santa Claus, cats have Santa Claws. He’s chonky.
We hope all of you are able to be with family or friends this holiday, and that your gathering is delicious. Cookie spreads are important, people! It’s not all about hors d’oeuvres and main courses. You’ve gotta go out with a bang! And make turkey so the leftovers can be taken home to your cat, of course.
Thanks for helping PITB — and Buddy’s legend — grow in 2023. We’re looking forward to 2024 when Bud will continue his quest for world domination.
Bella and Luna retain their spots as the most popular names for female cats, while male cats are commonly named Leo, Milo, Simba and Oliver.
The top cat and dog names for 2023 have been released, and Rover lists the usual suspects for the New York area.
The top female names for felines include Luna, Pepper, Lily, Coco and Bella, while the boys were Leo, Oliver, Milo, Jack and Henry.
There is no Buddy to be found even amongst the dogs, whose list included Charlie, Max, Teddy and Oliver, while females included Lucy and Rosie in addition to the ever-popular Bella and Luna.
I have a niece named Lucy and a nephew named Milo, neither of whom are old enough yet to understand their names are more popular with four-legged little ones than humans.
Nationally, Luna and Bella occupy the two top spots for female cats, followed by classics like Nala, Kitty and Cleo, while the most popular male cats in the US are Oliver and Leo, with names like Simba, Ollie and Jasper rounding out the top 10.
Again, not a Buddy to be found among the most popular male cat names.
This is obviously because the name Buddy is so special it is only conferred upon the most meowgnificent, meowscular and meowsterful felines. (Is he still looking over my shoulder?)
Who’s ready to rock? After a nice nap, of course!
Interestingly, nostalgic names from the 80s and 90s are trending, with people naming their female dogs and cats Alanis (Morisette), Ginger Spice, Avril (Levigne), Richard Gere and Leonardo DogCaprio among other monikers.
I don’t know if I could see myself naming a cat after a 90s band, musician or actor. I think, in these situations, it’s always best to imagine what happens if your furry friend gets lost and you have to walk around the neighborhood calling them by name.
“Come ‘ere, Weezer!”
“Where are you, little RZA? Who makes dope beats? You make dope beats, yes you do!”
“Time for din-din, Ol’ Dirty Bastard!”
“Where’s my widdle Rage Against the Machine? Aren’t you just a precious Red Hot Chili Pepper!”
If you feel like a jerk calling a name out, it’s probably best to go with something else. Which is one reason why Bud isn’t Brutus the Bone Cruncher or Supreme Warlord Felinius Decimus Maximus.
Rover compiles its annual lists of most popular names from its user database, which includes millions of pets registered by their proud humans…and not enough Buddies.
Pain In The Bud 