In the 1990s, American households include 60 million cats and an almost equal number of dogs, and myriad birds, fish, lizards, spiders, pigs, wolves and others that constitute an important symbiosis of person and animal. Domestic animals have long been part of American life, although today’s pampered companions might be surprised to know that they were once expected to work. Contemporary pets, however, also create a $20 billion industry in breeding, supplies and care.

This is coupled, unfortunately, with overpopulation. Strays and the constant demands on the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals underscore a careless surplus of domestic animals, whether feral dog packs or unwanted kittens. These, like problematic exotics such as overgrown Vietnamese pot-bellied pigs and declawed tigers, point to the cultural definition of the pet as a cute, relatively undemanding amusement for children and lonely people to adopt.

Pets are treated as members of the family or even surrogates for family and friends. The idealization of suburban domesticity created a special niche for Spot the Dog, embedded in television and film even though cats passed dogs in popularity in the 1980s. Yet, the convergence of surrogacy and affluence sets apart American pets. Foods grade them by age and demands (including diets and organic foods), accessories allow owners to spend $5,000 on a dog bed and medical services rival those provided for humans (pet insurance is a relatively late invention). Veterinarians, adapting their history in a farming nation, perform not only everyday tasks, but also offer kidney transplants for cats and tumor removal for fish. Bereavement counseling and pet cemeteries create a life cycle that eerily appropriates that of humans. Some civic groups, nonetheless, have stressed the importance of animals as service providers (e.g. guide dogs) and as companions for the elderly and sick when the human family has failed. Evidently, pets are also display animals, where breeding and care echo social differentiation. These are celebrated in registered pedigrees, whether proffered as proof  of value or tested in dog and cat shows—New York’s Westminster Kennel Club show receives national exposure. Meanwhile, as Vicki Hearne underscores in her insightful study of a “problem” bull terrier, Bandit (1991), this breed (identified as “pit bulls”) is identified with lower classes and race antagonisms through its role as a fighter. And the “mutt”—a mixture of breed and heritage—is often used as a symbol of the American melting-pot. Poodles, Afghan hounds, Siamese cats, cockatiels and koi carp have all transmuted economic surplus into pet status. As commodities, they are also subject to changing mores—guard dogs have risen in value in the security-conscious 1990s, while cats become ever more exquisitely bred and even reptiles and ferrets have their “own” magazines.

While animals in American television and film straddle the line between nature and culture, American pets cross the line of animal and human in both emotions and expenses, creating dilemmas for social critics, environmentalists and owners alike.