Xenophobia by Peter Cawdron

what do you think civilization would be like without the police? Without someone to enforce peace?
    “Nah, I reckon those big green bugs know exactly what they're doing. They'll come down here with their silver flying saucers and ray guns and leave us in pieces."
    He laughed yet again. This was a joke to him. Although he'd raised some genuine concerns, his interest was fleeting.
    "My pappy saw a UFO once," he continued. "Damn thing took one of our cows. We found a shredded cow skin the next day. No meat, no bones, just the flayed, bloody skin hanging on a barbwire fence. You think it's the same ones? Like a scout ship or something? Sent ahead to find out our weaknesses. Or maybe there’s more of them. You know, like on Star Trek and stuff. Lots of different aliens from different places."
    Bower didn't know where to begin.
    "Do you think they can read our minds?"
    "If they can," Bower replied, seizing the opening. "They won't find much."
    Elvis burst out laughing, slapping the steering wheel. He smiled at her. Bower was surprised; she’d expected him to be offended.
    “So what of it, Doc? Why aren’t they talking to us. You know, like you and I are. Why not just come down here and say, ‘ Hi, I’m Marvin the Martian ,’ or whatever, and talk properly with us?”
    “It’s not that simple,” Bower replied. “Before going to Med School, I studied to be a vet. I made it through my first year, but my heart wasn’t in it. I realized I wanted to help people.”
    Elvis nodded his head thoughtfully. Jameson was content to listen.
    “My father was a microbiologist, always talking about chemistry and how molecules formed proteins, sugars and acids, but that was too abstract for me. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I liked to work with things I could touch. Somehow, medicine seemed more real when stitching up a wound on a patient. Anyway, one of my first year veterinarian courses was on animal psychology. I got to work with cats, dogs, dolphins, cows, you name it.”
    Elvis laughed. “So you put a dolphin on a couch and ask it about its childhood?”
    “Something like that,” Bower replied, feeling the tension between them softening. She’d taken Elvis the wrong way. There was nothing malicious about him. He was just a good-old-southern-boy. He would probably like grits with a side of bacon and eggs for breakfast every day of his life if given the chance.
    “You see, we talk to animals all the time, thinking they understand us, but they don’t. They see the world through a different lens. There’s no doubt they’re intelligent, and that they think for themselves, but they don’t see the world as we do. You’ll never catch a cow admiring a beautiful flower, or a dog stopping to enjoy a radiant sunset.
    “We tend to project our own emotions and feelings onto animals, but its one way traffic. You and I see a dog as part of our families, the dog sees itself as part of a tribe, an inter-species animal pack. And just like a wild pack, your dog will want to know where it sits in the hierarchal order. You may think of it as being on the bottom rung, but I doubt it does, especially if you have young kids. You might think you’ve got your dog well-trained, but he thinks he’s domesticated you.”
    “Hah,” Elvis cried. “My pappy’s dog definitely thinks he rules the roost. He’ll chew anything in sight, and sit up on the couch like he owns the joint.”
    “Dog’s have emotions, though,” Jameson countered. “They genuinely care about us, right?”
    “Oh, they do,” Bower replied. “But through the lens of their nature, not ours. They show empathy when people are distressed, but emotionally they never really develop beyond that of a two or three year old child.”
    “What about cats?” Jameson asked.
    “Domestic cats are different. Apart from lions, there are no cats that move in packs, so they see their inclusion in a family as being part of a litter, and as such there will be parents and other