Even Kristi Yamaguchi started somewhere

I am on reading break, a time when students and faculty alike are encouraged to read (hence the name), write, and think critically.  Though the sun appears to have escaped from the soon-to-be overcrowded beaches of Cancun for a week of leisure in Vancouver, it’s still not warm enough for body shots above the 49th parallel.  So we spend our mid-semester break–you guessed it–reading.  Perhaps the papers, exams and hours of library time are, if viewed generously, a way to keep Canadian students from succumbing to the awful irony of a spring break held in the second week of February.  Nonetheless, in the spirit of girls gone wild everywhere, I’m trying to keep my work over the reading break to a minimum; thus, this post will be brief. 

This weekend Justin, my college roommate Katie, and I stumbled upon an official Vancouver 2010 Olympic event: a neighborhood free skate.  As I’ve indicated previously, Canadians love their icy activities.  Even here in balmy Vancouver, everyone over the age of three seemed to glide around the rink with a grace and panache that was probably genetically inherited, a mere toepick away from a triple lutz.  But my favorite part of the day was not the skate-shaped sugar cookies or the miraculously agile giant skating anime sasquatch mascot.  No, it was the under-threes, who seem to be equally comfortable up:

and down:

and down:

and down:

I’m not one to freak out over cute kids (puppies, maybe), but there’s something about kids on skates or skis or any other low-friction footwear that is particularly endearing.

 

cookie?

puppycam: dreams do come true

I know I may’ve mentioned the dailypuppy.com once before.  And yes, as far as websites go, the creator of this one did something very right.  There is a small red poodle, for example, named Axl Rose–delightful for reasons which I think are self-evident–and something called a “pupfolio” where readers can rate puppies on their cuteness–something I might write off as a “puppy meat market” if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve never seen a puppy score less than nine out of eleven dog biscuits.  If you select a “potluck puppy,” the site will randomly generate a puppy portfolio for your viewing pleasure.  Perhaps you like Carrot the Samoyed, or Donald the Duck Trolling Retriever.  Admittedly, it can get a little maudlin a times.  I recommend bypassing the “comments” section, which mostly includes posts that are entirely devoid of irony (“Kisses and extra love from a HUGE fan in Houston!”) kind of like those e-mail forwards you still get from that girl you sat beside in eleventh-grade study hall who genuinely believes that a sparkly-font “I believe in you” will help you through your “dumpy hump day.”

But nothing from my rich browsing history prepared me for what I stumbled across today (via the this american life website, of all unexpected but–when you consider their commitment to journalism of the people for the people–unsurprising places). 

puppy cam

 

I’ll give you a minute (or maybe you need an hour–don’t be embarrassed, we’re all friends here) to click, indulge, and recover.

If you still haven’t clicked the link, I’ll just say this:  while his five siblings sleep in the foreground, I’m currently watching one shiba inu puppy battle a yellow chew toy–in a ferocious display of agility and sheer, boundless stamina–for the carpet space just beyond what I’ve termed the “snuggle basket.”  Now he is biting his left rear ankle with acrobatic enthusiasm.  Now he is spinning quickly in circles.  Now he’s lying on his back pawing at an unseen attacker, all while his littermates’ little puppy chests rise and fall.

(this is Junie, my dad’s pup, when she was so small her collar had to have new holes punched in it.  If she were featured on the daily puppy, I’d write something like “Junie loves to go walking in the park and sneak treats from her cookie box!!  Her favorite snack is: everything!!” only I might use more exclamation points)

In case you’re still in the closet, you may find it easier to explain your baby animal infatuation to your friends and relatives with a little scientific support.  From the New York Times, January ‘06: 

New studies suggest that cute images stimulate the same pleasure centers of the brain aroused by sex, a good meal or psychoactive drugs like cocaine, which could explain why everybody in the [baby] panda house wore a big grin.

–

“Cute cuts through all layers of meaning and says, Let’s not worry about complexities, just love me,” said Dr. Dutton, who is writing a book about Darwinian aesthetics. “That’s where the sense of cheapness can come from, and the feeling of being manipulated or taken for a sucker that leads many to reject cuteness as low or shallow.”

You see, we’re genetically predisposed to respond positively to cuteness.  Those who deny it are simply exercising defensive mechanisms that illustrate their larger trust problems and social paranoia.  From an evolutionary perspective, loving cuteness is not only instinctual, but essential to the perpetuation of our species: 

Cute cues are those that indicate extreme youth, vulnerability, harmlessness and need, scientists say, and attending to them closely makes good Darwinian sense. As a species whose youngest members are so pathetically helpless they can’t lift their heads to suckle without adult supervision, human beings must be wired to respond quickly and gamely to any and all signs of infantile desire.

So put away your shame. Cute feels good.  Cute is the next cultural revolution; cute is the anti-hipster. And it all starts right here: 

puppy cam

Don’t worry if you click the link and the pups aren’t there.  Like me, they seem to be on Pacific time, and appear to have cozied up in a fluffy pile of Darwinian aesthetic for the evening.  If you get the “slideshow” (though I doubt you can fairly call two alternating images a slideshow) try again later.  You’ll thank yourself, you’ll thank me, you’ll thank the ingenious creator of the puppy cam, and you’ll call your mother and tell her you love her.

dangerous small thing: baby animals

Today I was sitting on a bench on Granville Island, eating a piece of focaccia and getting regularly buzzed by this guy:

I know you’re thinking, “buzzed, by a harmless little seagull…sounds like some healthy embellishment to me.” But, I’m not playing around here. Picture the scene in Top Gun, when Maverick wins the fight scenario and radios in for “permission to buzz the tower.” Well that’s what this gull was doing to my knee, only repeatedly and without permission. And, as you can see by the picture, looking nothing like a young Tom Cruise. So I was sitting there trying to eat and cursing the woman next to me, who was dropping cubed carrot bits from her Chinese food onto the pavement in a weird and unnecessary attempt to keep the gull in close proximity(think Hansel and Gretel’s witch with fried rice rather than taffy), when my sister called.

In the absence of anything significant to talk about, I mentioned to Casey that I’d seen some harbor seals earlier, bobbing around in the shallow water by the marina. To which she replied, “I think it’s great that you’re such an animal lover.” While I didn’t address her comment at the time–instead I told her about a very small and wet black labrador retriever puppy I’d seen the weekend before–it got me thinking. Why would she call me an animal lover?? I have never thought of myself in such a light. Animal lovers are sappy and they dress their pets in sweaters and give them names like Mr. White Paws or Fuzzy Puddytat. Though I gave up most kinds of meat several years ago, my decision at the time had little to do with animal rights. And, sure, I like to play with certain energetic puppies with floppy ears and waggy tails and chompy puppy teeth. And there was that time when I e-mailed some friends a particular you tube video, because I had enjoyed watching …perhaps to the point of unbearable grinning. But don’t paint me with your broad “animal lover” brush just yet.

The truth is–I’ll go ahead and put it in print–a few years ago I developed a small infatuation with a particular breed of God’s creatures: baby animals. I was interning at the international department of National Geographic Kids Magazine at the time. My job consisted almost entirely of filing and submitting photographer invoices for images that were reprinted in the various international versions of the magazine. It should go without saying that the great majority of these images were of baby animals. A turtle and a baby hippo become playmates. The new panda in Beijing weighs in at 11.3 lbs. A mama dog nurses orphaned lion cubs alongside her own puppies. Apparently, kids eat this stuff up. But I resented sitting in front of a desk all day at a job that didn’t pay (in fact I paid the university for the credit hours) with no more newsworthy distractions than a personality profile of a particularly agile house cat. But look at those mammalian faces long enough and they’ll start to get to you, too.

Tai Shan, the baby panda, had just had his formal coming out to the public at the National Zoo in Washington, DC. His photos appeared on the front page of the Washington Posts we sold at the coffee shop where I worked. I found myself kind of taken with his stubby panda arms and his fuzzy panda head. My friend Zachary introduced me to the blog cuteoverload.com, which we’d peruse on our lunch break, giggling at photos of hedgehogs curled up next to kittens. And what began as an ironic appreciation slowly, steadily, without my even noticing, became a full-fledged infatuation with infant mammals.

So I guess I can now consider myself officially out of the closet.

Though when my friend Erin, an editor at a children’s publishing house, gave me my Christmas gift last year:

I should’ve known that I wasn’t fooling anyone but myself by considering my infatuation ironic. Still, I don’t watch Animal Planet’s Pet Psychic, I don’t speak to kittens as if they are baby humans, and I give you my solemn vow that I will never, ever dress my dog in people clothes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to renew my subscription to thedailypuppy.com.