Mongolian Pet Culture

Mini Mew with her mousey

A couple weeks ago, I received a package containing catfood for my little kitten (Thank you, Mary and James!). My kitten, affectionately called "Mini Mew", has been living with me for over a month now, and her presence in my life has engendered all sorts of reactions from Mongolians and has increased my knowledge of pet culture in Mongolia. The arrival of catfood has brought into stark focus the difference between how Americans and Mongolians generally view animals.

If you ever travel to Mongolia, particularly outside the capital, you're pretty unlikely to find anyone who likes cats. The general response when people meet, hear about, or see pictures of Mini Mew is "I don't like cats." Pretty much unanimously.

My hashaa dog, Simba

Cats are viewed with perhaps a grain of suspicion and superstition. In Mongolia, there is the widely held belief that a cat is merely watching their owner, waiting for him or her to die. Unlike dogs, which protect the hashaa ('yard'), or livestock, which provide meat and milk, cats are seen to be fairly useless, bringing no value to humans.

In Egypt, cats were viewed as sacred and wise; but in a culture that has traditionally not been a grain-growing culture, this perception seems to have never caught on. Mongolians are traditionally nomadic herders, primarily eating meat and root vegetables like potatoes and onions. (In fact, some say one reason for Chinggis Khan's successful campaigns in China was because the bones and teeth of his warriors were strong from a lifetime of eating meat and milk-products, while the Chinese's high consumption of carbohydrates like rice, which rotted their teeth and lacked sufficient protein, made them weak. I can't say with certainty if this is true or not, though.)

Of course, Mongolia is not the same country it was 800 years ago. Wheat is now a major crop, particularly in Selenge Aimag. And there ARE mice here. But people still don't like cats. Perhaps mice aren't populous enough to pose a real problem, but regardless of the reason, it seems that for many, cats haven't redeemed any value.

In a society where life is hard and value is gained through practical or monetary benefit, cats aren't held in high regard. While dogs are seen as more valuable, even they receive a much different kind of treatment than in America. Winters here are freezing cold, but dogs are never allowed indoors; like cows, sheep, and other lifestock, they must hold their own against the cold, without the warmth of a house as a reprieve.

Stray dog looking for food around a food store.

Dogs are fed whatever scraps are left over from meals, or given the unappetizing bits from a butchered animal. They are almost never neutered, and certainly never spade, and so stray puppies abound from spring through autumn. The canine population is kept in check by various purges, where stray dogs and puppies are shot. Those who have permits from the government to shoot dogs stand to gain a little extra cash per dog they shoot. The bodies of dogs are burned outside of down. These dog-shootings happen about twice per year, I'm told: once in the spring and once in the fall. I've heard of Peace Corps Volunteers and Mongolians alike losing their dog when he or she got caught up in the purge.

Mini Mew with her mousey

As far as Mini Mew goes, I get the feeling a lot of people are surprised I have a cat (and not in a good way). But despite her incessant meowing and occasionally frustrating behavior, her adorable antics and unabashed affection delight me. Every evening she greets me when I get home, and every night she curls up in my sleeping bag with me. She brings a lot of joy, not just to me, but to the other Peace Corps Volunteers here (she occasionally attempts to play Settlers of Catan with us, but she seems to be a bit hazy on the rules). So, despite what people think of my decision, I'm glad to keep her.

Many Mongolians might be bewildered over my having a cat--but I am just as bewildered that anyone couldn't love a face like hers: