My friend Rachel has a Facebook virtual puppy named Priscilla. “She reminds me that I’m way too irresponsible to have a real dog,” Rachel tells me, adding that Priscilla has been at the brink of starvation several times. “I guess I like the idea of a pet more than the pet itself.”
Her discovery caused me to reflect on my own dogs, Petey and Albany, who bark, whine, and contract illnesses that require large sums of money to treat. I love them, but I often fantasize about a Perfect Pet, one that’s quiet, civilized, and recession-friendly. Could virtual pets be my answer?
The Birthing of Virtual Pets
History suggests an enthusiastic market for artificial pets.
The Pet Rock burst into the Christmas stockings of Americans in the 1970s, conceived by ad man, Gary Dahl. Pet Rocks sold for about four bucks and were marketed as real pets. They even came with instructions on proper care. Dahl made millions and wrote a book, Advertising for Dummies.
Next, there was Tamagotchi. The hand-held digital pet requires more of its owner than the Pet Rock, but it also gives more back—it can play games and express happiness. Simple enough for grownups to operate and techie enough for kids to covet, more than 70 million have sold since 1996, to the dismay of teachers everywhere (until sympathetic principals agreed to ban the things).
When schools started shunning digital pets, manufacturers added a pause feature, so students could go to school without worrying about their pets’ appetites.
Today, the Internet offers scores of artificial companions, requiring varying degrees of care. Most seem pretty hard to kill, not that you’d miss them much if they croaked.
Still perplexed as to the appeal of virtual pets—even when my own living pet was recently caught consuming a dirty diaper—I called Tobin Hart, associate professor of psychology at the State University of West Georgia.
What’s All the Fuss About?
Tobin confided that his kids went through the Tamagotchi phase and he says he didn’t discourage them. “Anything that engenders imagination is probably a good thing,” he tells me. “Imagination leads to the best discoveries.”
Artificial pets allow kids and adults to play out curiosities and relationship issues, he says. “Projecting qualities onto an inanimate virtual object is a good thing.”
So virtual pets allow us to practice our relationship skills. But can caring for a fake pet teach kids about responsibility? For some, virtual responsibility might be helpful, but people with obsessive tendencies might want to pass, Tobin says. The caregiving requirements of a virtual pet might reinforce such tendencies.
There are other potential pitfalls. When a child neglects his virtual pet, should Mom insist he live up to his responsibility and take care of it? If not, will that affect the responsibility he takes for a real pet? Is it okay for a parent to give a child who longs for a real pet a digital pet? Or is that child being deprived of the opportunity to connect with something real? Do virtual pets with the most realistic characteristics blur the lines between real and imaginary?
And should an otherwise responsible adult who kills her digital pet decide she’s not the nurturing type?
PETA approves of digital pets. They allow people like my friend, Rachel, a compassionate person who works long hours, to road test their readiness for real pet ownership.
The real question is this: does an artificial pet capture the ineffable qualities of a living pet, the qualities that keep owners traipsing to the vet for organic dog food specially balanced for the dog with a sensitive tummy?
Why Bother?
The Pet Rock, as dumb as it was, was telling us something about pets and the way we coo over them. It screamed, “What’s all the fuss about?” but we didn’t listen. Petmania grew as baby boomers became empty nesters, longing for a devoted doggie to keep the nest warm.
