Stepping into the NGV’s Cats & Dogs exhibition at Federation Square, visitors must make a decision. Before them are two arrows directing their path ahead. To the left, a path to dogs; to the right, cats. Immediately, the age-old question is invoked, typically reserved for when the conversation has dried up on first dates: are you a dog or cat person?

Combining an astonishing number of contemporary and historical works, the exhibition displays how cats and dogs have served as enduring subjects across history. Just as Parmigiano’s sixteenth-century drawing of an elegant male nude surrounded by languorous hounds reflects the commonality of humans and animals, Cats & Dogs invariably leads viewers to locate new meaning in their relationships with their domestic companions. Part of this understanding is through subverting the clichés of the canine and feline realms. Just as there are creepy cats and loveable dogs, we see affectionate felines and beastly hounds. While the concept of Cats & Dogs might appear simplistic, I found this show charming in its clarity and surprisingly intimate.

One of the surprising functions of such a tightly focused thematic exhibition is how it allows us to re-engage with esoteric or rarely displayed works. With Bonnard’s famous Siesta (1900), I had never noticed the small dog sleeping at the bottom of the painting, camouflaged by white garments strewn on the floor. Moreover, in Dürer’s iconic etching of Adam and Eve (1504), viewers might not spot the rather grumpy-looking cat sauntering across this scene of creation. In this way, some new dimension, a further layer of persona, is added, demonstrating how such an idea for an exhibition can recalibrate works, even for aficionados who have seen them often.

An undeniable wit permeates Cats & Dogs, manifested in the playful dialogues between works. Jeff Koons’s porcelain Puppy Vase (1998), a diminutive version of his much larger explorations of the terrier motif, is  exhibited alongside an elegant Vincennes porcelain dog sculpture from 1753. Founded in 1738, Vincennes porcelain, with financial support from Louis XV, came to compete with the largely Saxon wares that were prominent in France during this period. The juxtaposition of Koons’s commercialised fancy with the refined elegance of French porcelain underscores the evolving role of animals in art, from élite craftsmanship to mass-market objects. Thus, a dance between creation and commercialisation is invoked that reverberates through the contrast between fashion and decorative arts on the one hand and paintings and sculpture on the other.

Throughout the exhibition, what becomes clear is the social function of dogs and cats. Just as designer breeds pair well with Dior suits, stylised domestic animals are immortalised in the design of garments. A magnificent kimono decorated with cats hangs from the ceiling. A kinky, leather-clad poodle print gleams from the corner, drawing viewers again to the exhibition’s process of subversion and delight. A charming vein of popular culture runs through the show, where the candy-striped Cheshire Cat appears as a print on a dress by Australian fashion house Romance Was Born.

First Nations work features prominently throughout the exhibition, highlighting overlooked narratives of animals in spiritual practices. The richly patterned Dingo Dreaming at Marruwa by Warlimpirringa Tjapaltjarri intricately weaves together the significance of Dreaming and the role of the dingo, from which the human form is said to have emerged. The exhibition acknowledges the impact of colonialism through the imposition of English names, such as ‘native cat’ for the Guugu Yimithirr word ‘quoll’, thus occluding First Nation languages and knowledge. Such a variety of works from different cultural and artistic practices demonstrates how cultural perspectives shape our understanding of cats and dogs.

At times the design of the exhibition, largely consisting of washed-ply wood temporary walls, can feel like strolling through a minimalist Bunnings Warehouse. But this spareness enhances the connectivity between the works. Small kennel-like spaces created by temporary walls unfold into larger environments, underscoring the division between cats and dogs. In some ways, this continual wrestling of large and small makes the audience feel like a cat, sluicing through a gap in the door to search for milk. We become the animals, we become the cats and the dogs.

Thomas Gainsborough, Richard St George Mansergh – St George c. 1776–80 (courtesy of National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Felton Bequest, 1922)

The central divisive thread of cats vs dogs appears to fall away by the final room in the gallery. Displayed in a glorious salon hang, a sort of utopia forms where the cats and dogs can coexist. The darlings of this room are Gainsborough’s Richard St George Mansergh-St George and Cynthia and Count Brusiloff by Violet Teague. Painted between 1776 and 1780, Richard St George is a morose work. As the young subject, clad in military garb, gazes down sombrely waiting to board a ship to take him to fight in the American War of Independence, his dog gazes up at him. Does the dog know what fate would befall its owner? The emotion only becomes literal through the presence of the dog, where it becomes part of the compositional and narrative triangle. Though our eyes might land on the willowy soldier, the necessary poignancy is contained in Gainsborough’s rendering of the dog. We see a similar narrative play in Teague’s Cynthia. Although the subject is adorned in shiny seventeenth-century attire, it was painted in 1917. We look into the young protagonist’s eyes and see a similar chord of quiet fear that not even the pomp of childhood can disguise. There is something about the charming Windsprite – its soft fur and diverted gaze – that reassures us.

While Cats & Dogs might appear juvenile, it is charmingly refreshing. Through the show’s impressive breadth of work and playful design, what underscores this exhibition is whimsical humour and a wacky intimacy. Whatever one’s preference might be for furry companions, even the most cynical ailurophobe will find joy in Cats & Dogs.

Cats & Dogs continues at the National Gallery of Victoria until 20 July 2025.