By Tim Sanders

After a long discussion with our dachshund, Maggie, I decided to address the serious topic of anthropomorphism this week. Oh, okay, so I did most of the discussing, while Maggie only looked at me very intently, anticipating a dog biscuit. But she did wag her tail once or twice, which was all the encouragement I needed.

Anthropomorphism is a combination of the Greek words anth (theveral tiny, annoying inthecth), ropomorph (thtomp on), and ism (until they’re all detheathed). Actually, according to Webster, it is the attribution of human characteristics to plants, animals, and lifeless, inanimate objects such as Stonehenge and Hillary Clinton. In today’s column, due to lack of space and even less information, we will talk about the most common modern-day version of anthropomorphism, which involves people dressing up as animals and trees.

According to Chris Togneri’s July 6, 2007 article in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, the steel city recently hosted the 11th annual Anthrocon Convention. As I understand it, this is the world’s largest assemblage of people called "Furries," who like to dress as animals and devote four days of their lives each year to hanging around like-minded individuals, and discussing important animal-related issues. Such discussions might include seminars on the relative cultural significance of why Sylvester the Cat, who always said "thufferin’ thuccotash" with a distinct lisp, was the only cartoon character with an actual offspring, while Mickey Mouse, Woody Woodpecker and Porky Pig only had "nephews." Other topics might include the ethics of neutering animated characters like Mickey, Woody, Porky, and Sir Elton John early in their careers, simply to avoid the possibility of any of those nasty show biz paternity suits later on.

If you were to conclude that these Furries are all a bit off kilter, you would be absolutely wrong ... sort of. Not all of the 3,000 or more Furries at that convention wore complete animal costumes. Some wore only fashionable, fluffy tails, or possibly nice, cosmetically appealing long, mechanical ears, often made to wriggle on cue by simple electronic switches concealed in the pocket or handbag. Others preferred attractive flea collars. Yes, these are people just like you and me, serious adults who like nothing more than sharing their interests with others, and getting acquainted by sniffing each other’s hindquarters before finally agreeing to, say, dance ... or roll on something nasty in the lobby.

One of the myths dispelled by Togneri’s article is that Furries actually believe that they are animals. According to conventioneer Doug Fair, 21, of Bel Air, Maryland: "I have a spiritual connection to foxes. Here, I can feel like the spirit I believe I am but realize I never could be." See, he only has a spiritual connection to foxes; he realizes he never could be one ... even though he ... er, believes he is. Okay, so that was a poor example.

Many Furries believe animal costumes help them shed. By which I mean shed their inhibitions. Togneri quotes Chris Brousseau, a 28-year-old chef from Maine who calls himself Takala, the Dancing Zebra: "I’m a very shy person; somehow I found the courage last year to stand up in front of more people than are in my hometown and dance. That was very special for me ... If I wasn’t wearing a costume, I’d be standing in a corner." An accompanying photo shows Takala the Dancing Zebra, apparently involved in a deep, philosophical discussion with Dex the Raccoon, also known as Clarke Braudis. Or they might just be checking each other for ticks, it’s hard to tell from the photo.

So a bunch of loons dress up like animals and hold a convention every year ... SO WHAT! Well, my answer would be that, on the practical side, some people dress up as trees, too. And they put their costumes to good use.

In a July 9 AP article from the Washington Post (a very responsible newspaper which would never cover foolish stories about people in zebra outfits), we find that a man disguised as a tree held up a Manchester, New Hampshire bank:

"Just as the Citizens Bank branch opened Saturday, a man walked in with leafy boughs duct-taped to his head and torso, and robbed the place.

... Police said the leafy man didn’t say anything about having a weapon, just demanded cash, and was given an undisclosed amount.

Although the branches and leaves obscured the man’s face, someone who saw images from the bank’s security camera recognized the robber and called police.

Officers said James Coldwell, 49, was arrested early Sunday at his Manchester home and charged with robbery. Arraignment was not expected until Monday."

One of the security camera photos of the man in the bank, which, according to the inscription, is located at 465 N. Elm Street, reveals that he is probably not an elm at all, but an oak. And if that didn’t make bank personnel suspicious, then the walking tree’s "leafy boughs," held to his trunk by duct tape, should have tipped them off.

"Hey, Bob, I do believe there’s something not quite right about that oak tree waiting in line three."

I showed the photo to Maggie, and she studied it carefully before finally indicating that she wanted another biscuit. My guess would be that she ran all of those silly "bank branch," "root of the problem," "out on a limb," and "dumb as a stump" quips through her mind and decided against saying anything.

She’s no fool. She knows that if Simon the Squirrel, the organizer of this year’s Furry Convention, had been inside that bank, he’d have gone straight for that poor robber’s acorns and the local cops wouldn’t have had to wait a full day for an arrest.