If Darwin, if evolution theory were to be believed, we were all butterflies and birds and cats and dogs at some point.

Indeed when we look at cats and dogs in the eye, there seems to arise some intimacy, some innate connections that even the failing of words could not hinder, or maybe precisely because of this dumbness, this inability to use words, the intimacy and connection are in some sense felt stronger.

An infant’s stare and smile has a similar quality: we instantly feel pure and happy and free under the gaze and smile of a baby. As their clear eyes, opened newly to the world, look straight at us, we for that second become as pure as they are for we know that we are not judged and measured up as we generally are by the world, for at that moment we are seen only in our most original form: a human. It does not matter if we wear one set of outfit or another, it does not matter if we are less good-looking, earn less money, know less things than the next person. All it matters is that we look at them, we see them, we keep them company: in this respect infants are very much like cats and dogs: they seem to be able to smell it, they know instantly and instinctively if a person loves them or not. And they receive and give love in the purest and simplest manner.

The cat comes to me in the morning light and rubs himself against my bare leg: what human could say ‘good morning’ in a better way? The dog sits herself cozily at my side while I read a book. And looking at her laying on the mat next to me in silence and contentment, the very air seems to flow more smoothly and soothingly. She just wants company and keeps me company. She asks nothing of me, she demands nothing from me. There is no bending one’s will to the other which is not uncommon in human intercourse, there is no force to constrain one, no vanity nor ambition to impel one.

猫 māo, the Chinese calls ‘cat’, sounds very much like meow, or 喵 miāo. The left side of this character for cat 猫 is the animal radical: 犭or 反犬旁 as we call it.

The animal radical, not surprisingly, comes from–it must be among the very first of domestic animals–the word for dog: 犬. As for this character, Confucius himself said: 视犬之字，如画狗也。That is, looking at this character 犬, it’s like looking at an drawing of a dog. As for myself, I could not for the life of me, see a dog in this character. So I trace back to its very origin, its oracle version, and find consolation there:

But why do we call a dog “gǒu”, here Confucius comes in again: 狗, 叩也。叩气吠以守。That is, dog, is to knock (down) and to attack. Attacking, sniffing, barking as to guard. The word for ‘to knock and to attack’ is 叩 kòu which could be the origin of how the Chinese named dog gǒu.

Dogs nowadays, for the most part, are kept for their companionship rather than the purpose to attack and guard. And they are here, these animals, these, 动物 dòngwù, moving objects , they are here in our rooms and apartments, in our beds and couches, teaching us the simplicity of love and life.