articles
December 13, 2000
Robo-Rovers and Metal Mutts: What's Up With Pretend Pets?
by Barbara Fletcher
Welcome to the 21st century. Not only are our daily lives regularly touched by computers and
electronics, our options for companions now include metal pooches that bark, lift their
legs, respond to stimuli, and mimic real doggy behaviour.
So forget it, Charlie Brown; happiness isn't a warm puppy, it's a robo-Rover.
This holiday season, digital doggies like Poo-Chi
and Tekno are topping
many gift wish lists. Kids enjoy the lifelike
qualities and interactivity factor, and some adults think it's cool to have their very
own Dynomutt
or futuristic pet that used to live only in the cartoons of their youth.
Regardless of age, isn't it a bit strange to want an electronic pet when a real dog exhibits real
emotion and real behaviour? How can a singing and dancing robo-dog possibly compete with a
tail-wagging, floppy-eared puppy? I mean, don't we like those big slurpy kisses and endless walks
in the park?
Apparently not.
Even during the mid-90s, virtual pets were a roaring trend. Lots of people played online with
their virtual puppies or kitties. Owners
were responsible for feeding and playing with their virtual pets -- even cleaning up the virtual
doggy-do. And their commitment was measured and scored.
As might be expected, many virtual pets ended up in the virtual pet cemetary.
These days, sites like NeoPet allow you
create your own virtual pet, and to join in a large community of pretend pet owners who share
stories and tips.
Bridging the gap between virtual and tangible pets, the Furby
arrived in the late 90s. These creatures were marketed for their sensitivity to light, touch, and
sound. Furbies have their own language and now they can even have babies.
Back in the world of imitation, robot dogs turn virtual pet ownership on its (dog) ear. Sony's
Aibo -- at a whopping might-as-well-buy-yourself-a-new-computer price tag -- has been around for over 18 months. It comes
equipped with a built-in CCD digital camera, microphone, and speakers.
And creepier still for some, Aibo learns over time and develops its own behaviour patterns.
For an extra $450 bucks you can revitalize your pet by purchasing a kit for designing new movements and
tricks.
This is what some potential pet owners prefer to a rope wrestle in the back yard, or a feisty frisbee
toss (doggy snot and all)?
What has our world come to? It sounds like a good sociological study to me.
But I guess that there is a bright side to metal mutt ownership: better that a person tire of their
techno-rover than of a real dog that continues to need care and love long after the
holidays.