When Bowser Gets Blue . . .

Who can be blamed for rolling his eyes over the latest designer pet item: a government-approved antidepressant for dogs? This is supposed to help the woof population deal with “separation anxiety” when the owners are away. Next, will it be satellite television packages for “the world’s most dangerous cat chases”?

If dogs suffer today, it’s from manic depression. Five seconds after they’re bummed out, they are wildly happy. Take Rex, in the backyard. Here’s Rex’s mind, without drugs: “Hungry! Bowl empty?!? Depressed. Squirrel! Chase!! Happy Happy! Squirrel escapes. Depressed.” And so forth.

Cats, far less domesticated, are content to be home alone. As cartoonist Gary Larson has noted, both hear the same instructions as the owner leaves: “Blah blah, Rex, blah blah.” But the cat isn’t interested, while Rex earnestly strains to understand his instructions, and doesn’t. Depressed.

Dogs throughout the ages have been bred to do things. Herd animals. Haul sleds. Protect. It’s in their genes, while cats at most have been asked to kill rodents, already their instinctual fate. A cat can find endless entertainment in dust motes. But pity poor Rex, centuries of do-gooderisms pulsing through his veins, parked in the condo all day. Depressed.

Potential pet owners can help by doing a little research first. For a one-bedroom condo, skip the Newfoundland, bred to rescue drowning people; a moppy little Lhasa apso might work. And don’t make the same mistake as comedian Rita Rudner, who says she gave her pup a breakdown by mistakenly shoving its furry head to the floor and commanding “Sit!” A doggie haircut was in order, not a pill.