Cat People and Dog People

Humans seem to be drawn to opportunities for self-definition, gleefully taking online quizzes and corporate-style categorization tests, interpreting the (current or past) location of the planets and stars in the sky, and dealing from oracular decks of cards.

Most of these methods have about as much scientific backing as Harry Potter’s sorting hat: they’re based on non-scientific concepts that can’t be proven or disproven, or they claim a scientific basis that doesn’t actually exist.

That said, many of these methods have been lauded as useful tools for self-reflection: their claims providing us with attributes and assumptions that we can either adopt (potentially reframing our sense of self as a consequence) or push back on (also catalyzing a moment of internal analysis and consideration).

The emergence of social media has provided us with ever-more opportunities to self-differentiate based on all kinds of things, ranging from degrees and sub-categories (real and online-innovated) of neurospiciness, to visual and consumptive aesthetic.

There’s also been a fair amount of digital ink spilled on the topic of cat people versus dog people, the idea being that these two animals, kept as pets, are distinct enough that the humans who own and take care of them must also be quite different sorts of people.

And interestingly, there may actually be some evidence for this supposed distinction.