[Ed. – We’ve limited ourselves to 450 of them, below.]
The Puppy Bowl has become a cultural behemoth in its own right, abiding by the American business ethos that if you don’t keep getting bigger, you die. This year’s Puppy Bowl, played in the “Geico Stadium,” features no less than 66 pups between the ages of 12 and 21 weeks. The halftime show features Keyboard Cat and Lil Bub, and there’s also cheerleading penguins, fan voting for the Bissell MVP, overpriced merchandise, a fantasy draft, and news broke Tuesday that Michelle Obama is going to perform a touchdown dance during the show. The two-hour show begins at 3 p.m., but will loop on repeat, with new content every hour, until 3 a.m. That’s 12 straight hours devoted solely to puppies being puppies. (Maybe they should just become the Puppy Channel? Maybe not.) And if that’s not enough, you can watch a live Puppy Bowl “practice” on your computer right now.
Cute, I know! But can we be sure that this puppy football is entirely safe? Not that the Puppy Bowl needs a concussion protocol, or to test for PEDs—though I did pose those issues to spokeswoman Melissa Berry, who replied, “All the puppies are safe and well taken care of.” All players receive a pre-game veterinary checkup, she said. …
Does our obsession with puppies specifically, and cuteness generally, know no bounds? The internet replies: Nope, no bounds! We will look at puppies ad infinitum and sine nauseum, because evolution: The New Republic‘s Alice Robb noted earlier this week that “a team of psychologists led by Jessika Golle at the University of Bern argue based on students’ reactions to babies’ and puppies’ faces that there is a universal mechanism underlying our appreciation of both animals and babies.” Hard-wired this way or not, we are a race of slack-jawed zombies, stalking cuteness. It’s a human weakness that’s worth fighting—especially if you love puppies. …
[M]ost dogs, in shelters or elsewhere, are not puppies for a simple biological reason. “Lest we forget, puppies grow up,” Kahn, who has never seen the Puppy Bowl, says. “At some point they won’t be little tiny and cute.” That’s easy to forget when you’re strolling around your local mall, looking for a gift for your teenage daughter or newlywed husband, or not looking for anything at all, and you pass a puppy bowl of a different sort—a glass tank with cedar shavings scattered thinly across the floor. Your human eyes meet a puppy’s eyes. In that moment, for reasons evolutionary or cultural or some combination thereof, it’s all over. You are sold. As Berry says, “I don’t know anyone who could not smile looking at a pile of puppies.”
I know one person, anyway.