Reading with Pets: A Guide

Avid readers and pet owners are often one and the same. We dote on our pets the way we do our books: devoting our attention to them joyfully and often, investing our time and money for emotional rewards, and, in our moments of hesitance, turning to them for comfort. But do our adoring pets give us the space to read? No! They get jealous of our diverted affections, or they start playing with something in the other room that sounds suspiciously like not-their-toy. They bark at something out the window, or they suddenly go silent for so long that you have to sweep the house, peering under bookshelves and inside cupboards, just to find them sitting happily in your seat when you return.

We love our pets deeply and unequivocally, and we won’t deny that you do too. But, for those times when you can’t get through a chapter without a new disturbance, here’s our advice.

Pick up your book and show it to your pet at their eye level. You might have to crouch down, which will elicit a string of expletives as your knees crumple, but try to speak to them in a calm tone anyway. Say: “Listen, Mitzy. I love you. You are a perfect specimen. But Mummy is going to stare at paper with words on it for an hour or so, and I need you to leave me alone.” Then shuffle them past the doorway, give them a final pat on the head, and close the door.

They will scratch on the door and you will endeavor to ignore them, for a while. You will read a page, then two, then you will glance at the door worriedly. What if something is wrong? What if their feelings are hurt? But no, you warned them. You will read another page and it will be excruciating. You’ll read the same sentence four times, not understanding it once. The next time they scratch at the door, you’ll set the book down and rush over to open it, taking them in your arms. “It’s okay, Mitzy,” you’ll coo. “Mummy’s here.”

But you sure showed them, for five whole minutes!

Okay, so boundaries are a little too hard. That’s okay, because you can include them in your quiet reading time so they still feel like they’re getting the attention they deserve. Show them your book again, but this time, give them one of their own. Let them sniff it. Maybe they’ll look in your eyes and see that your love for them and your love for literature are one and the same: an ever-learning entity that remains the same powerful devotion at its core.

Now that they have their own books to distract them, pick up your own and slow-w-w-ly settle into your reading chair. They will look at you, confused, and you’ll smile encouragingly. Mitzy might push at the pages with a tentative paw, searching for the toy that must be hidden inside. Maybe Clive will lay down with a snuffly sigh, trapping the book under a distended belly.

You’ll turn back to your book contentedly, pleased that a balance has been reached. That wasn’t so hard, after all!

But two chapters in, a ripping sound will pierce your thoughts and you’ll look up wildly. A calamitous scene meets your eyes, which will take a long moment to process: your precious books, torn and chewed, gnawed and severed, scattered around the room. Mitzy and Clive meet your furious shock with innocent smiles: Look, Mummy, we can read too!

Perhaps it’s time for a compromise. Clearly, asking them for space is asking too much, since their love for you is too strong to be contained in another room, and trying to share your habits just leads to issues in translation. So you decide to give them a little of what they want, then give yourself a little of what you want. Pet, read, pet, read.

And they are happy with this arrangement, for a while. Clive will eagerly hop on your lap, although he ceased being small enough for that years ago, shoving a wet nose into your hand every time you move to turn the page. Mitzy will perch on the top of the chair, patting playfully at the top of your head until you turn around. You’ll read a page, pat a pet, then turn the page, stringy fur clinging to your fingers. You will all be content.

But then Clive will spot something out the window and excitedly scramble towards it without a second thought, digging claws into your thighs. Mitzy will jump away in fear, and you’ll be left wincing in what is mostly frustration but also a little pain, and Clive will be howling at the neighbors across the street, and Mitzy will be hissing on top of a bookshelf, ready to tear additional pages to express her anger at Clive’s oblivious racket.

You’ll sigh, trying desperately to find the sentence you were interrupted from, before reluctantly standing to pull Clive away and coddle Mitzy into complacency. So close.

It’s time to face the facts: Sometimes your pets have control. The best pet owners know when to resign the battle, because, after all, little Mitzy and Clive winning? That just means you get more affection. So maybe you’ll catch up on chapters at nap time, or strike up spare moments of mutual concession, or spoil them with treats in exchange for peace. We might love books, but they’ll still be there when our pets are done playing.