Blankets for All Living Creatures
Softness can soothe humans and animals alike.
Like many children, I was given a baby blanket that was lovingly created by my mother. I can still picture it, its printed cloth accentuated by small yarn ties to keep the three layers of quilting intact. I know it was covered with many small graphics on both sides, but I only remember tiny cows. My aptly named “cow blanket” traveled everywhere with me, soon dragging behind me as I learned to walk. I loved that blanket to pieces—literally. Only a small remnant still remains.
When my sister was born two years after me, she was also given a blanket, a swirling knitted pattern of pastel yarns. She amusingly called it her “cow blanket,” a term that our family had extended well beyond bovine affection to represent any meaningful item of comfort in blanket form.
The Psychology of Being Wrapped
No matter how hot it is outside, I still love being wrapped in blankets. On particularly tough days, my need increases for super-soft textures held tightly to any patch of bare skin. I’m so open about this need that a student once gave me a tiny dragon stuffie creature holding its own attached blanket. This sacred dragon accompanies me on every flight, train, and boat trip, always in my carry-on for fear of losing him.
My behavior is not unique. Many adults use blankets as comfort objects—symbols that connect us to early experiences of nurturance. We reach for blankets during times of stress, illness, or loneliness.
What psychologists call “tactile comfort” can produce a measurable sense of calm, as evidenced by reductions in cortisol levels and slower heart rates. Research in affective neuroscience has linked tactile pressure to activation of our parasympathetic nervous systems. Today’s popular weighted blankets go further, offering “deep pressure stimulation,” which can help improve sleep in people experiencing insomnia and encourage emotional regulation for those experiencing anxiety.
Blankets As Self-Care
Blankets can help us feel held, especially when we don’t have someone around to hold us. Wrapping ourselves becomes a gesture of self-care, an assertion that our bodies deserve—and, in fact, need—rest.
For people experiencing grief, depression, or burnout, wrapping yourself in a blanket can feel like reclaiming a boundary. It’s a radical act to take time for oneself in a world that suggests we keep going and going, pushing forward when instead we need to retreat.
Blankets for Animal Comfort
Many animals also find comfort in soft materials that mimic nesting, burrowing, or denning behaviors. Dogs in shelters often curl beneath fleece or towels—so much so that shelter medicine experts recommend blankets to provide both tactile comfort and visual buffering (aka privacy). Nervous cats often knead and arrange blankets as if preparing a nest for kittens, even when they are spayed or neutered. Primates in sanctuaries or zoos frequently use blankets to make sleeping piles, to line nests, or to hide under—a behavior that can reduce stress and give a sense of agency in environments where privacy is hard to come by.
Yet context matters. For example, if an orangutan in a zoo spends most of the day hidden under a sheet, interpreting this behavior becomes complex. Is this action an expression of comfort, boredom, self-soothing, or emotional withdrawal? Animal welfare researchers caution against over-romanticizing such scenes, such as suggesting an animal is merely playing or sleeping. If an animal consistently isolates and avoids social contact, they may be engaging in “withdrawn coping,” a sign of reduced psychological well-being. They may need more than a blanket; they may need better care or a different habitat.
When a Blanket Is Not the Right Choice
It’s also important to realize that humans often project our own comfort responses onto animals, especially near the creature’s end of life. Covering a dying animal companion in a blanket may feel loving, but physiologically it could cause them distress. As circulation and thermoregulation decline at the end of life, the animal may overheat easily. For example, you might see them panting, acting restless, or moving away from blankets. This could signal a need for cooler air. Compassionate caregiving requires sensitivity to these cues. While it may seem counterintuitive, comfort sometimes means less covering and more privacy.
Some animals may not perceive blankets as positive at any time of life. Some equines, birds, and other species may view unfamiliar fabrics as threats. Others may chew or ingest them, posing medical risks. Understanding needs specific to the species—and individual preferences—is essential.
Comfort, Choice, and the Ethics of Care
Ultimately, pondering blankets invites us to reflect on how we offer care across species. For both humans and animals, soft fabrics may reduce stress, but they can also conceal loneliness or environmental impoverishment. The ethical challenge is to discern whether such comfort alleviates suffering or contributes to it, and to respond accordingly.
On those tough days, when we ourselves are not feeling up to dealing with the world, we may ask ourselves, Where is my blanket? Once swaddled, it might make sense to then ask ourselves lovingly, Now, what else do I need?
by Sarah Bowen
