On Halloween night, children across Ireland will be going door-to-door, trick or treating. They’ll be dressed up as vampires, witches, werewolves or just about any fancy dress creation that they and their parents have managed to concoct. And there’s a good chance that they’ll be accompanied by the family dog, also dressed up in costume. As a vet, I am often asked what I think about this: is it fair to dress pets up for a bit of fun, or is it a form of cruelty, offering entertainment for humans at the expense of the animal?
It’s easy to get up on a high horse about this. Dogs don’t have the ability to be aware of their own appearance. If you show a dog their reflection in a mirror, they don’t recognise themselves. They have no understanding of why their carer is attaching items of clothing to them. They may feel uncomfortable, under pressure, and awkward. They are acutely conscious of social connection and the lack of connection, so if they are the centre of attention, with people pointing at them and laughing, they may feel some sense of discomfort, if not embarrassment. The only reason people dress up pets is to make themselves feel better, to give humans some sort of bizarre entertainment, laughing at the unfortunate innocent creature wearing inappropriate fancy dress. From witches to pumpkins with many other random themes, dogs in costumes may provide superficial visual entertainment, but at what cost to the animal’s physical comfort and emotional state?
But is it as simple and as bad as this? I think that yes, sometimes it is. Some dogs definitely do not like wearing certain clothes. I’ve never been a fan of dressing up my own pets, but I can see the logic of certain types of functional clothing, providing warmth and protection from adverse weather. My own dogs have sometimes been dressed up in various different outfits that I’ve thought might be useful. They don’t usually mind this. My terrier Kiko seems happier to go out in inclement weather if she is wearing a rainproof jacket of some kind. My Labrador cross, Finzi, seems to enjoy rushing around on a cold winter’s day wearing an insulating type of sweater. But on occasion, the two dogs have clearly shown their unhappiness about what they have been asked to wear. I remember a gaudy bright orange long-sleeved microfibre outfit that resembled a onesie: when I put this on Kiko, she stood stock still, refusing to budge. She stared at me, licking her lips, and while I am slow to agree to the idea of dogs being able to “talk” to their owners, I could have sworn that she was doing her best to beam a specific thought straight at me with her body language: “I feel humiliated in this ridiculous outfit and I would like you to remove it immediately.” I didn’t wait around: within a few minutes she was happily coatless. As nature intended.
The counter argument is that the opposite sometimes seems to apply: some dogs do seem to enjoy being dressed up. Some dogs seem to realise that when they are wearing some sort of odd clothing, people start to give them more attention. And they like that extra attention. You can tell from their body language: simply put, they look like happy dogs. They walk around with a spring in their step, enjoying when people talk to them, nuzzling people close to them for even more attention, clearly not at all put out that they have made to look slightly ridiculous. When an animal is visibly happy like this, it’s difficult to argue against it.
My most memorable dressed-up pet experience was in the USA, when I was at an international conference of pet bloggers. A woman was pushing a pram around, and her pedigree cat was seated on a cushion in the pram, attached to a leash, wearing a red checked shirt and a straw boater hat. I was appalled: it seemed obvious to me that this cat could not possibly want to be there, wearing clothing that looked awkward and inappropriate. I took photos, I talked to the owner, and I talked to other attendees at the conference about it. To my surprise, I was the only one who felt that this was not right. The cat’s owner was adamant that he loved the attention everyone was giving him, and most onlookers felt that the cat looked “cute”. And compared to the thousands of feral cats and poorly cared for pet cats, he was being thoroughly spoilt. If he didn’t like being dressed up, he wouldn’t let her do it to him. He was well fed, and cherished like a baby. What was my problem?
My conclusion was that there are cultural norms in different countries: in the USA, dressing up pets has become “just the way it is”, while here in Ireland, we prefer our pets to be au naturel. Except, of course, at Halloween. And then, it seems, anything goes. As long as the animal is not visibly distressed, of course. And to many people, how could a cute-looking pumpkin, a frightening but funny ghost, or a dog-witch with a broomstick be anything but adorable?
I’ve yet to be convinced. As long as dressed-up pets have relaxed and contented body language, I’m happy to leave them and their owners to it. But my own dogs? It’s only functional clothing for them, and even then, they need to be visibly happy for me to do this to them. Poor Kiko, awkward in her dayglo onesie, made a lasting impression on me.