Scientific American published a tongue-in-cheek piece advocating a reclassification of dog breeds into different species of dog. The author has a point: If a species is defined as a reproductively isolated population, then surely some breeds are reproductively isolated from others (the mastiff and the Chihuahua are mentioned).

Following this line of reasoning, dogs would be most accurately described as a "ring species," in which there is a continuum of gradually varying — and potentially interbreeding — forms with two "ends" incapable of interbreeding. The mastiff and the Chihuahua are at the ends. But a German shepherd and a Labrador retriever, on the other hand, could certainly populate the animal shelters with hybridized mutts. And surely that Chihuahua could have some success, so to speak, with a Yorkshire terrier.

Some dog breeds are not capable of reproducing at all, at least not without technological intervention. French bulldog females usually must be artificially inseminated because males cannot mount effectively, and the puppies often must be delivered by Caesarian section. I am not sure how such creatures would fit into the classical species definition. It was not designed for populations that can't reproduce at all!

The impetus behind the proposed dog reclassification was to demonstrate that, in fact, speciation has been observed. Biblical literalist creationists often claim that science has never observed the splitting of one species into two different species.

Alas, if you know Creationists, you know this would not work. First, speciation has been observed already, and Creationists have no problem denying it. (See the Talk Origins information on observed speciation, an Internet classic.) Second, when a Creationist talks of a "species," he does not mean a reproductively isolated population. He means a "kind," sometimes called a "baramin," a concept exclusive to literal Creationism (i.e. not found in science). The Creationist would argue that the various canine breeds, along with wolves and wild dogs, comprise the dog "kind," and that while there might be "microevolution" within the kind, no dog would ever evolve into a new"kind." (Presumably, divine intervention would prevent "microevolution" from going too far.)

The proposal to call dog breeds different species was not made seriously. But it's good to think about the species concept once in a while.

Image credit: Ellen Levy Finch, licensed under the GFDL.

While searching for an image to use for a logo for my series on animal welfare, I came across some, ah, rejected entries. Here are some religion-themed LOLcats:

And as a bonus defying further description, here's a dog who apparently did not get excommunicated:

You, dear reader, may already know my background on things religious: I was raised Catholic, have never left the faith, have a decent layperson's understanding of the Catechism, and teach Confirmation candidates at my parish. For the new series "Animals and Catholics," here is my background on the topic of animals:

I belong to a club known as "animal lovers." We are the ones who other people call with questions about the baby bird in their yard, or wondering if their dogs can stay with us while they are on vacation. We are the ones who stop our cars when we see an ailing creature by the side of the road. We are the ones with the phone numbers to our veterinarian, an emergency animal hospital, and animal control all stored in our cell phones. We are the ones who buy those expensive "fancy" pet foods and debate the relative merits thereof.

My degree is a bachelor of science in zoology. I spent a couple of years as an animal control officer, which gave me a perspective on the impact of animals on public health. (More on that later int he series.) I have also worked as a professional aquarium biologist (read: I scuba-dived into giant fish tanks to scrub algae). And except for a small part of my college years, I have never been without a pet of some sort. I have had various freshwater fish, assorted birds large and small, cats, a snake, a lizard (briefly), and hermit crabs. A dog is certainly in my future, though there are no immediate plans.

One area of Catholic theology that seems underdeveloped is a clear explanation of our moral obligations towards animals.

Certainly, it is not inappropriate for this subject to be underdeveloped. The Church's thinkers have explored theology according to a heirarchy of importance. The nature of Christ and his sacrifice came first, as the various Christological heresies (Arianism, Monophysitism, etc.) were rejected. Then the nature of the Trinity was explored. Next came the rejection of the various Protestant heresies and explanations of many of the sacraments. In modern times, the sacrament of marriage and the issues surrounding the beginning of life have been explored by John Paul the Great in his Theology of the Body.

This very crude overview leaves out a great deal, but it makes the point that the field of theology has started with the most important things and proceeded to subjects of lesser and lesser importance.

Humanity's moral obligations toward animals, and the nature of the relationship between God and animals — in short, a theology of animals — is near the bottom of the ladder of importance. I believe that the need to develop this area is becoming more pressing because of the increasing prominence of several heresies regarding animals — for example, the vegan heresy that animals are the moral equivalents of human beings — and an increasing general cultural concern for the welfare of animals.

I want to explore the Church's present teachings on animals. Over the next few weeks, I plan to make a series of posts on the theology available to us lay people so far. I am eager for comments on this series! Please "leave a light on" for this and other posts in this series.

"Animals and Catholics" image adapted from "dog & cat" by Yukari. (CC) Some rights reserved.

I am jumping on a meme bandwagon: Seven Quick Takes Friday, hosted by Jen F. at Conversion Diary. Since this is a blog about science and faith, not a personal diary, I hope Jen will forgive me if my seven snippets consist of news, info, and thoughts about those subjects.

1.

If you grow your young in a uterus, but you have not evolved a placenta, how do you feed them? For the gray nurse shark, aka the sand tiger shark, the answer is incestuous cannibalism. Gray nurse shark pups in the womb eat each other for nourishment, so only two are born per pregnancy (females have two uteruses). Since they are endangered, marine biologist Nick Otway is trying to develop an artificial uterus for gray nurse shark pups. Back when I worked as an aquarium biologist, we had several of these huge sharks. They are quite docile despite their fearsome complement of teeth.

At right: Grey nurse shark at the Minnesota Zoo, courtesy Joe Lencioni. (CC) Some rights reserved.

2.

Check out this video of comedian Stephen Crowder, hosted by the Raving Theist (formerly the Raving Atheist). He does an over-the-top parody comparing Planned Parenthood to a used car salesman.

3.

From the world of physics (via Scientific American) comes a story about the continued dissonance between Einstein's special relativity and quantum mechanics. This particular story has to do with a principle of special relativity called locality, which conflicts with a principle of quantum mechanics called entanglement. Of note is a comment buried on page 4 of the online article:

The old aspirations of physics to be a guide to metaphysics, to tell us literally and straightforwardly how the world actually is—aspirations that had lain dormant and neglected for more than 50 years—began, slowly, to reawaken.

This is good news for philosophers who, like me*, view reality as a concrete thing and truth as absolute.

*Not that I am any kind of philosopher.

4.

Shame on the New York Times for its headline, "For Catholics, a Door to Absolution is Reopened." The article is about the church's promotion of indulgences — which are decidedly not the same as absolution, and which have never had the door closed, having always been available. The Times notes that the tradition of indulgences is "one of the most complicated to explain," then proceeds to do a rotten job of explaining it. In particular is the omission of the crucial point that Purgatory is a process of purification, of making us more like God so we can enter his heaven, not a place in space-time where one serves a sentence of days or years. (Hat tip to Science and Religion News.)

5.

When Pluto was removed from the list of planets, it became the first discovered member in a brand-new class of space objects: the dwarf planets. In a way, this is actually a promotion, not a demotion. But apparently a lot of people are emotionally attached to Pluto as a planet. In 2007, the State of New Mexico (home of Pluto's discoverer, Clyde Tombaugh) declared Pluto officially a planet. (Hat tip to Spaceports blog.) This reminds me of the apocryphal tale of one of the Appalachian states (Tennessee?) trying to declare the mathematical constant pi as equal to exactly 3.

At right: Image of Pluto and its moons by the Hubble Space Telescope (courtesy of NASA).

6.

If you are Catholic, and the Pope himself told you to your face that you were wrong on some issue, would you reconsider your position? Apparently, Nancy Pelosi would not. She shows no signs of easing from her pro-choice stance despite a face-to-face reprimand from Pope Benedict XVI. One prays that at least a seed was planted.

7.

Until now, the Alavesia fly was an insect known only from amber fossils from the Cretaceous period, before the mass extinction that killed the dinosaurs and many other species. Now two species of living Alavesia have been found in Namibia and have been dubbed "living fossils" by the media. A completely new suborder of insects, the Mantophasmatodea, was discovered as well. There is still much we do not know about the mysterious world of living things. It's no surprise the new discoveries were insects; there are an estimated six to ten million species of insects, but only about a million have been described.

This blog is not all philosophical, rational-Christianity heaviness. Inspired by a post on the blog Hacking Christianity, which I found via Entrecard (see my widget at right, under "Blog Love"), I thought I would post about this topic, which is deeply important to all children (including, as Hacking Christianity points out, Bart Simpson) — and not a few adults.

Do cats and dogs go to heaven?

The Catholic short answer is "No." Certainly they do not have free will nor immortal souls and therefore do not participate in God's plan for salvation. But the long answer seems a lot more complicated.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church has only a short section on animals (CCC 2415-8) which says little beyond the need to respect God's creation. Against Heresies, by the second-century church father St. Irenaeus, is sometimes quoted in the discussion of animals in heaven:

Neither the structure nor the substance of creation is destroyed. It is only the "outward form of the world" (I Corinthians 7:31) that passes away – and that is to say, the conditions produced by the fall. And when this "outward form" has passed away, man will be renewed and will flourish in a prime of life that is incorruptible, so that it is no longer possible for him to grow old any more.

The context here is a refutation of the Gnostic heresy, which held that creation and the material world are evil. Considering what Irenaeus' purpose was in writing the above, it is clear that he was not addressing the question of whether our pets go to heaven.

Being rational about pets in heaven

Let's assume that some animals do go to heaven. The animal kingdom contains a spectrum of complexity; some very simple organisms are included as "animals." Related to these are certain one-celled organisms as well as fungi. (In evolutionary terms, animals and fungi are more closely related to each other than either is to plants.) Unless one wants to argue that mushrooms and molds are in heaven, there must be some cut-off point, with creatures on one side enjoying heaven and creatures on the other side stuck with the final death. It seems like the cut-off would be arbitrary, but this cannot be, since nothing about God is arbitrary.

One might speculate that animals go to heaven by merit of having been loved by humans. In other words, our pets go to heaven, but wild creatures do not. The idea that human love confers some kind of immortality on animals is alien to Christian thought; you cannot "love" someone or something to heaven, be they human, animal, vegetable, or mineral.

That leaves only one final argument in favor of pets in heaven: that since we will be happy there, we will have everything we need to make us happy — including beloved pets. That's a nice thought, but a childish one. We already know that everyone we love will not necessarily be in heaven (Catholics believe in hell), so the happiness of paradise must be possible without the actual presence of loved ones. I tend to think that part of perfect happiness will be the peaceful acceptance of those things that bother us here on earth, such as separation from beloved humans and pets.

Always with us

In a way, our pets will always be with us. In heaven we will be united with God, and God exists outside of time, so in a mystical way I think we will be somehow reunited with the good of creation throughout time, including our pets. And, of course, our love and the memory of our pets' natural love will always stay with our intellects, even in heaven. But I cannot find room in Catholic teaching for the idea that pets will be physically present with us after the Resurrection of the Body, the article of faith enshrined in the Creeds.