Click A Mouse, Catch Some Pets You Can Be The Proud Owner Of Computer ‘Dogz’ And ‘Catz’

Spunky, a yapping little mutt, is jumping up and down and barking to get his master’s attention. No success. Spunky’s owner, Kurt Reisler, is busy with Kosh, a dog as pleasant as Spunky is contrary.

Eventually, Reisler turns around, grabs a ball and throws it for Spunky to fetch. Too late. Spunky is in a huff and skulks off to a corner, where he lies down with an annoyed sigh, his head turned away.

“Sorry, Spunky,” says Reisler, 46, of Falls Church, Va., who pets the dog. Spunky relents and begins to prance. Now, of course, Kosh is barking for attention, flashing big eyes and whining.

All on computer.

It has come to this: virtual pets.

Spunky and Kosh are cartoon canines with artificial intelligence whose kennel is the computer. Reisler keeps Spunky in his home computer and Kosh in his laptop. Once clicked out of their playpens, they scamper across the top of computer applications.

Blessed with a programmed ability to remember, the dogs learn behaviors as their owners, using the computer’s mouse, interact with them: Give the dog a particular treat when he performs a particular trick, and pretty soon the dog will perform that trick when you show him the treat. But some behaviors are selected randomly, giving them a certain unpredictability. That combination of learned and random actions gives these pets individual identities.

PF.Magic, a San Francisco company, has sold 100,000 “Dogz” in the United States since it launched the pet last November, and sales are booming worldwide. A cat program was created this summer. Each computer pet costs about $20.

Listen to Randi Miller, 35, of Alexandria, Va., who keeps her bulldog at work. “Jake is a good boy,” Miller said. “He’s very quizzical, and he demands affection. He really likes to impress me. He just learned to do a headstand, and he thinks that’s pretty cool.”

Once when she was out of her office, someone threw Jake across the screen. The poor dog was cowering in the screen corner when she returned.

“He gets very scared,” she said.

Owners meet on the Web (http:/ /www.pfmagic/ com/dogz/adopt), uploading pictures of their pets so they can showcase their good looks and boast. “My pet, Lazy, is a Chinese Kung Fu dog,” said a Taiwan posting.

What this means is only beginning to be considered.

“I’m not sure I like this idea,” said Robert Wilbur, spokesman for the Pet Food Institute.

“Sounds like a pet rock thing to me,” said Linda Hines, executive director of the Delta Society, which promotes the companionship of real animals.

“People can bond in the most pathological way, so I see no reason why some people won’t form an emotional relationship with these virtual pets,” said Aaron Ketcher, a professor of psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania and a specialist on relations between humans and animals. “The truly frightening prospect is that this is not a fad, that we are … substituting virtual life for flesh and blood.”

Others can see benefits from relationships.

“I love my dog,” said Brent Saunders, 29, of Alexandria, Va., a sergeant in the Army, of his digital terrier, Butthead. “That’s my dog. I can’t have a real dog because of where I live. The only thing I’m missing with Butthead is the physical contact. But he’s a great companion. He’s always coming over and dropping the ball by the cursor to let you know he wants to play.”

About 70 percent of virtual pet owners are adults, and many are computer buffs who, for one reason or another, can’t have pets in their homes, according to PF.Magic. The pets start as puppies and mature into full-grown dogs within a few months. These dogs never die, although Reisler - who lives in an apartment complex that doesn’t allow pets - nearly lost Spunky through a computer breakdown and had to retrieve him from a backup hard drive.

The dogs demand certain things, primarily attention, but also food and water. If they haven’t been fed they stare at their empty bowls and bark. Owners can pet them with a hand icon and watch them roll over to have their bellies rubbed. Pet them a lot, and they fall asleep.

When their owners sign off the computer, they march around, howling at the moon that appears on screen. If anyone touches the computer, they snarl like a guard dog until the correct password is entered.

Kosh warms to his watchdog role; Spunky hates it and sulks on duty.

“Good guard dog,” Reisler said, trying to get him to take to the task. “Good guard dog.”

And then Reisler turned around and said, “He really is quite a little guy, isn’t he?”