American television often utilizes animal death as a narrative tool, presenting it in diverse ways across various genres. These depictions raise questions about audience positioning, viewer responses, and broader cultural relationships with animals. Examining these representations reveals insights into both human understanding of mortality and the symbolic use of animals in contemporary American culture. As Jonathan Burt argues, animal death representation is intrinsically linked to human engagement with mortality, often serving as a displaced confrontation with our own inevitable end. This essay delves into the complexities of animal death representation on television through a focused case study: Brian Griffin’s death in the animated sitcom Family Guy.
Brian Griffin: More Than Just a Cartoon Dog
Brian Griffin, the erudite canine companion of the Griffin family in Family Guy, has been a central figure since the show’s inception in 1999. Alongside animated staples like The Simpsons and King of the Hill, Family Guy has carved its niche with its signature cutaway gags and satirical humor. Brian, while visually a dog, defies typical animalistic portrayals. He walks upright, engages in articulate conversations, and is treated as an equal member of the Griffin household. The show frequently mines humor from the dissonance between Brian’s intellectual pretensions and his underlying dog instincts, often satirizing liberal viewpoints and humanizing animal traits. Family Guy‘s comedic landscape thrives on “brash satire” (Booker) that spares virtually no topic, venturing into taboo subjects with irreverent abandon. This complex characterization, blending human and canine traits, positions Brian as more than just a pet; he is a nuanced character within the show’s satirical framework.
Despite his generally human-like behavior, Family Guy subtly reminds viewers of Brian’s canine nature. Humorous scenarios often arise when his dog instincts surface, disrupting his human facade. Characters might playfully toss a ball, instantly diverting his attention, or he might sheepishly admit to scavenging for food in the trash. Conversely, some episodes foreground Brian’s “dog-ness” to explore themes of animal welfare and rights. Episodes like “Dog Gone” and “Brian: Portrait of a Dog” showcase his advocacy for animal rights and his sensitivity to being treated as a mere animal. This duality – Brian as both human-like and inherently dog – highlights how human culture utilizes animals representationally. He becomes a flexible symbol, his character shifting to serve the narrative’s needs, illustrating the human tendency to project human experiences and meanings onto animals.
Animation as a medium further complicates Brian’s representation. Animation readily employs anthropomorphism, imbuing animals with human characteristics, often positioning them as stand-ins for human figures. This anthropomorphism, while common in animation, underscores how human perspectives dominate animal representation. It can be seen as both a tool for human understanding and a potential barrier to recognizing genuine animal agency. While some view anthropomorphism negatively, others argue that dismissing it entirely leads to “anthropodenial” (de Waal), hindering the recognition of behavioral similarities between humans and animals and reinforcing a rigid human-animal divide.
Fig. 1: Friends and family gather for Brian’s funeral. Screenshot from the Family Guy episode “Life of Brian” (Netflix Austria).
The fluidity of Brian’s identity – is he primarily an animal, a human metaphor, or an animated construct? – is precisely what makes animal representations so potent in cartoons. While the portrayal of Brian might have implications for real-world dog treatment, his primary function within Family Guy is narrative. The image of a dog, specifically, carries cultural weight, enabling Brian to occupy the role of a pet, a normalized category within American society. He is not depicted as a wild or exotic animal, but a domesticated dog, a “chaotic omnipresence” (McHugh) in human lives. Dogs hold a unique place in human storytelling, being “the most storied of all pet animals” (Fudge). Brian’s dog-ness is not incidental; it is crucial to the narrative arc surrounding his death. His canine identity is the very reason his death becomes a particular kind of story, one that resonates with cultural understandings of pets and their place in human lives.
The Shocking Demise: Brian’s Death and the Audience Reaction
In the 2013 Family Guy episode “Life of Brian,” a narrative earthquake struck: Brian Griffin died. In a seemingly mundane street hockey game with Stewie, Brian is tragically hit by a speeding car. The episode shifts dramatically from Family Guy‘s typical comedic tone as Brian’s injuries prove fatal at the veterinarian. In a poignant farewell scene, Brian expresses gratitude to the Griffin family for a fulfilling life before passing away. The episode culminates in a somber funeral service, starkly contrasting with the show’s usual levity. Despite Family Guy‘s reliance on “derogatory speech” and humor without consequence (Ricke), “Life of Brian” adopts a serious, almost mournful tone, urging the audience to share in the family’s grief. Brian’s final words, “You’ve given me a wonderful life. I love you all,” are delivered with genuine emotion, underscored by close-ups of the weeping family and melancholic music. This departure from the show’s comedic norms highlights Brian’s death as a significant event, inviting a rare, sincere emotional response from viewers.
Fig. 2: Confronted with Brian’s unexpected death, the family begins to cry. Screenshot from the Family Guy episode “Life of Brian” (Netflix Austria).
The audience reaction to Brian’s death was significant. As a beloved character, his demise sparked widespread outrage among fans. A Change.org petition demanding his return garnered over 128,000 signatures (Lombardi), demonstrating the deep connection viewers felt with the animated dog. Family Guy‘s production team defended their controversial decision in interviews. Executive producer Steve Callaghan explained it as a way to “shake things up” (qtd. in Aguilera) and explore narrative possibilities. When questioned about the choice of Brian over human characters, Callaghan stated, “As much as we love Brian… we felt it would be more traumatic to lose one of the kids, rather than the family pet” (qtd. in Aguilera). This justification explicitly hinges on Brian’s status as a “family pet,” implying a narrative disposability rooted in his non-human identity, regardless of his popularity. This highlights a prevailing industry assumption: within mainstream animated programming, animal characters are inherently more expendable than their human counterparts, even when a non-human character, like Brian, resonates deeply with audiences.
This narrative logic surrounding Brian’s death is rooted in Western cultural perceptions of pets. Pets occupy a unique category, distinct from “the natural world,” existing primarily within the human sphere. Many pet breeds are products of selective breeding, designed to emphasize desirable traits for human companionship. Pets are not merely animals sharing human spaces; they are often deliberately crafted to fit human lifestyles and expectations. Yi-Fu Tuan argues that pet-keeping embodies a complex dynamic of dominance and affection, where humans express deep affection for animals within their homes (2). This affection, however, operates within a framework of control. Pets are expected to conform to human routines and behaviors, subject to rehoming or euthanasia if they fail to meet these expectations. Ultimately, humans retain absolute authority over a pet’s existence, revealing an inherently unequal relationship despite genuine affection.
Tuan further notes the paradoxical human relationship with dogs, marked by “willful,” “arbitrary,” and “perverse” displays of power (102). This contradiction is evident in societal attitudes, where dog-loving cultures like America still euthanize millions of shelter dogs annually. Dogs are simultaneously loved companions, family members, working animals, and readily disposable. Media representations of dogs, like Brian Griffin, reflect these cultural contradictions, consistently prioritizing human perspectives. The Family Guy production team’s rationale – Brian is loved, but narratively expendable – mirrors this societal view. Such representations reinforce and normalize human dominance over other species, making it appear natural and even necessary.
Erica Fudge argues that animal representation often serves to reinforce “human power over animals” (Animal 152). Animal death becomes a recurring motif in media due to the animal’s symbolic association with mortality. As Bellour notes, animals are “especially suited to embody death’s inevitability” (288), representing the very essence of life’s fleeting nature. Pets, in particular, are potent symbols because “the modern urban pet is not a real animal” (Baker 13), but rather a being defined by its human-assigned purpose.
One key “purpose” of pet representation is to navigate the sensitive topic of death without directly confronting human mortality. Children’s literature frequently employs pet death narratives to introduce children to grief and loss in a distanced yet relatable way (Corr). Similarly, pet owners often contemplate their companions’ mortality due to their shorter lifespans (Hewson 431), making death an inherent aspect of the human-pet bond. Therefore, media often utilizes “animal-for-human death” (O’Brien 48), supplementing human-centered narratives with animal sacrifice. Dogs, given their close relationship with humans, play a prominent role in “dog discourse” (Mangum 41), frequently embodying themes of “time, aging, and necessary death.”
The Family Guy producers’ desire to “shake things up” could have been achieved through numerous narrative devices. However, they chose to kill Brian, a central character, highlighting his perceived narrative dispensability rooted in his non-human status. Despite Brian’s human-like qualities, his underlying dog-ness ultimately renders him narratively expendable. His death, presented in “Life of Brian,” functions as a vehicle for exploring grief and loss, mirroring children’s literature tropes. Even though Brian often acts as a human proxy, his animal nature remains an indelible part of his identity. In the end, Brian’s dog-ness makes him narratively “killable,” exemplifying how animals, even anthropomorphic ones, can be reduced to resources for human-centric stories, especially when their primary function is to mirror human experiences.
The Unexpected Resurrection and its Implications
The story of Brian’s death, however, takes an unexpected turn. Despite initial claims of permanence, Brian was resurrected just two episodes later in “Christmas Guy.” Time travel, a common Family Guy trope, served as the deus ex machina, erasing Brian’s death from the narrative timeline. Seth MacFarlane, Family Guy‘s creator, framed the storyline as a “warm, fuzzy holiday lesson,” urging viewers to “never take those you love for granted” (qtd. in Goldberg). However, he also downplayed the initial shock, suggesting audiences shouldn’t have believed Brian’s death was permanent, implying the production team would have to be “fucking high” to permanently remove such a key character. While seemingly a happy ending, the initial believability of Brian’s permanent death underscores the perceived disposability of animal characters in popular media, particularly when their removal is justified to prioritize human narratives. Even Brian’s resurrection, while seemingly celebrating animal affection, reinforces the narrative insecurity of animal characters compared to their human counterparts.
Fig. 3: Vinny replaces Brian between the latter’s death and eventual resurrection. Screenshot from the Family Guy episode “Life of Brian” (Netflix Austria).
The episodes between Brian’s death and resurrection further highlight this point. In “Life of Brian,” the Griffins, seeking to fill the void left by Brian, acquire a new dog, Vinny, a stereotypical Italian-American canine. Initially, Stewie, Brian’s closest companion, resists Vinny’s presence, viewing him as a replacement. However, Vinny’s comforting presence during Stewie’s grief leads to a bond between them. By the episode’s end, Vinny effectively occupies Brian’s narrative role as the family dog. While Vinny’s comedic persona differs from Brian’s, his narrative function as “the dog” in Family Guy remains consistent. The episode concludes with Vinny mirroring Brian’s close relationship with Stewie, sleeping at the foot of his bed. This seamless substitution emphasizes the episodic nature of television and the interchangeable nature of animal characters within such formats. “The dog” role in Family Guy persists, regardless of the specific canine occupying it.
This interchangeability becomes starkly apparent with Brian’s return. Brian’s resurrection narrative directly leads to Vinny’s disappearance. In the revised timeline, Brian is saved from the car accident, and Vinny is never introduced. Brian’s return necessitates Vinny’s narrative erasure, highlighting the limited space for animal characters in the show’s format. Family Guy seemingly allows for “a pet,” but only one at a time. Brian and Vinny are functionally interchangeable, defined primarily by their role as “pet” rather than as distinct individuals. Vinny’s disappearance is unacknowledged, signifying his narrative insignificance once Brian, the original “pet,” is reinstated.
Brian Griffin’s death and resurrection arc encapsulates the complex and often contradictory ways animal representations function within culture. Animals are both loved and disposable, their disposability rooted in specieist hierarchies that prioritize human narratives and emotions. The interchangeability of Brian and Vinny underscores the limited narrative space afforded to animals, often reduced to roles rather than individualized characters, a treatment rarely applied to human characters. Ultimately, the “holiday lesson” of Brian’s death – appreciating loved ones – is delivered through the narrative sacrifice of an animal character. The death (and subsequent erasure of his replacement) of animal characters serves as a catalyst for human emotional and moral development. This narrative choice starkly illustrates how human cultures often utilize animals as resources, even in representation, primarily existing to serve human needs and narratives.
