Following the trend of cultivating colorful succulents, contemporary college students have forged a new path in pet ownership. Under the pandemic, they've fully utilized their hands-on skills, creating all sorts of "new pets" from discarded cardboard boxes. From initially pursuing adorable cardboard dogs to later adding cardboard cats, these imaginative students are immersed in their passion for cardboard creation. But is the cardboard pet craze merely a way for college students to pass the time during pandemic-related activities? Or are young people exploring new forms of social interaction? This genuine devotion to inanimate cardboard pets seems like a re-enactment of Poincaré's long-held fascination with "electronic pets." What underlying desires do these young people harbor?
"College students are raising some very new things."
Following the trend of growing colorful succulents, contemporary college students have pioneered a new path in pet ownership. Perhaps due to repeated failures in keeping plants alive, they have now turned their attention to "items that will never die."
Under the pandemic prevention and control measures, they used their hands-on skills to create all sorts of "new pets" from discarded express delivery boxes.
From initially pursuing adorable cardboard puppy designs to later following suit with cardboard kitten designs, netizens expressed concern about the worrying mental state of young people while also praising the college students' hands-on skills.
In their enthusiasm for creating with cardboard boxes, college students with boundless imaginations discovered new ways to create outrageous things, and this trend then went on to become increasingly absurd and irreversible.
Upholding the spirit of "innovation first," batches of college students have embarked on new projects: lifelike Chinese dragons, the adorable snail from SpongeBob SquarePants, and all sorts of Pokémon.
It's as if they'll pull out a Poké Ball any second and say to the others, "I choose you, Cardboard Pikachu!"
There's also the "Flying Puppy" equipped with high-end technology; and the "Cardboard Dinosaur" that drifts and races in the dormitory.
In this paper dog carnival, everyone's enthusiasm has grown, and the results have become increasingly diverse, providing a new way for youth to express themselves during the pandemic.
However, is the cardboard pet craze merely a way for college students to pass the time during the pandemic, or is it a way for young people to explore new forms of social interaction?
Pouring genuine affection into inanimate cardboard pets evokes a Poincaré-esque fascination with "electronic pets" from long ago. What underlying desires do young people harbor behind this?
Creation with "Hands"—"Fantastic Beasts Here"
The cardboard dog was originally a way for college students to entertain themselves during the pandemic. These most creative and energetic people, under limited conditions, gave secondary creations to discarded cardboard boxes, starting a trend of handmade creation.
"Getting things interesting" is one of the microcosms of contemporary young people's pursuit of individuality and uniqueness. When these cardboard pets become a popular symbol, batches of "magical animals" naturally become the material carriers of their innovative spirit and pursuit of individuality.
At the same time, college students' love for "fantastic creatures" also stems partly from a compensatory mentality for real-life shortcomings. Due to economic conditions, family factors, and other practical issues, many young people are in a state of being willing but unable to keep a pet.
Who hasn't imagined that after a long day, coming home to pet their furry friend and seeing their lazy and adorable demeanor would be incredibly therapeutic?
Cardboard pets now offer a new way out for impoverished college students: they can get a pet for free with their own hands, so why not? Of course, it could also be a whole bunch of pets.
Moreover, their love for "magical creatures" goes beyond simply being toys. They meticulously prepare supplies for these pets, such as food bowls and litter boxes. These silent children are imbued with humanity and meaning; they are cared for, remembered, and treated with the same affection, becoming a new form of anthropomorphism.
A response to "mutual eye contact"—"the determination to socialize"
In fact, college students don't just treat these cardboard pets as personal collections. When limited by reality and unable to interact with more live animals, they transfer their feelings for living creatures to these creations. By interacting with "dogs," they find new forms of entertainment, which in turn give rise to a new way of socializing.
So, walking dogs in groups on the playground, finding partners for their paper dogs online, and competing to see whose pet is cuter—these things pieced together a collective social consensus and cultural participation. Everyone tacitly agreed that this silly but cute way of life was the way to go, creating a free space where they wouldn't be disturbed.
Of course, many people exclaimed, "It's hard not to question the mental state of college students." Similar to the currently popular "mad literature," the interesting responses of young people when facing real-world difficulties and anxieties are not only a unique cultural characteristic of our generation, but also an expression of finding joy in hardship.
While walking the cardboard box puppy, we yearn for more real contact with friends, trying to fill the loneliness stemming from reality.
Many young people today are trapped in a dilemma of craving social interaction, fearing loneliness, and being anxious about their current situation. As Zhou Guoping said, "Loneliness is human destiny. Love and friendship cannot eradicate it, but they can soothe it."
Through the medium of Cardboard Pets, we break through the unreality of "being online friends" and gain face-to-face social opportunities, venting our pent-up emotions in love and friendship.
