As some of you may have guessed, I’m fascinated by the evolving relationship between humans and animals, particularly when we try to get close to animals, even dangerous ones, on solely human terms. Sometimes that works out well enough; on other occasions the hubris inherent in the act carries deadly consequences.

Two stories in today’s news remind me of that.

The first is the very sad story of a whale trainer—truly a fragile definition—killed by an orca at Sea World in Florida.

Witnesses said the male orca, named Tilikum, grabbed trainer Dawn Brancheau by the waist while she stood on a poolside platform and dragged her into the water.

Killer whales don’t attack humans in the wild, and some whale experts think the animal may have wanted a companion (without realizing that this companion couldn’t breathe underwater) or simply got bored by its absurdly close confinement.

Regardless, the death suggests that killer whales—along with great whites, the animal I’d really not like to be underwater with—probably shouldn’t be held in captivity.

The other article, a terrific piece in the Times, is the heartbreaking story of Connecticut police officer Frank Chiafari, who about a year ago responded to a radio call about a chimp attacking a woman.

The victim, Charla Nash, 56, survived. Her recovery from the attack — the chimp bit and clawed off her face and hands — was presented to the world via an episode of the “Oprah Winfrey Show” in November. She was blind, her features lost in a bulbous and livid pulp.

Chiafari himself was attacked by the chimp, which actually managed to pull open the door of the police car before a stunned Chiafari shot it.

…Officer Chiafari and paramedics, who had been waiting in their vehicles for the chimp to leave, rushed to the body on the ground. “She had no face,” he said. “Her hands are off. There are thumbs and fingers all over the place.” He called out to her. “I feel bad, but I was hoping she wasn’t conscious.”

But Ms. Nash reached out with the stumps of her arms and tried to grab the officer’s leg….

Inevitably, the memories of that day haunt Chiafari.

“I’d go to the mall and see women and imagine them without faces,” he said.

One’s heart goes out to the man, just as it does to the other victim of the chimp’s attack, Ms. Nash.

But again, this didn’t have to happen. Chimps shouldn’t be pets, and they certainly shouldn’t be treated like humans, fed steak and wine and placed on Xanax as Travis was. It’s one thing to screw ourselves up, another to mess up a different species.

Let me relate a little story to help explain where I’m coming from….

When I was about ten, my family took a trip to Bermuda. One day while there, we visited a dolphin show held in a beautiful little grotto. We arrived late and missed the first half of the show—it was pretty much what you’d imagine, and I loved every second of it—but near the end the dolphin trainer asked if it was anyone’s birthday. Some kid raised his hand, and the trainer sat him in a little rowboat with a towline attached to the bow. One of the dolphins promptly put its nose through the towline, pulled the boat around the grotto, and returned to the dock.

My family stayed for a second show to see what we had missed, and this time, when the trainer asked if it was anyone’s birthday, I thrust my hand up so fast it probably looked like I was trying to catch a line drive off the bat of Derek Jeter. (Not that one would ever want to do that, but you know what I mean.)

Same thing happened: Trainer put me in the boat, dolphin put its nose through the lasso in the rope, and off we went.

Only this time, the dolphin made a semi-circle around the grotto and then took off like a shot for the open ocean.

I, of course, thought that this was about the best thing that had ever happened.

But the trainer was definitely taken aback, and somehow—by slapping the water or something, I don’t remember—he convinced the dolphin to turn around. To my great disappointment.

As a result, I’ve always had a sense of what profound, spiritual joy humans can derive from interactions with animals, even ones where we’ve trained the animal to do something it really oughtn’t to be doing.

But I’ve also had an awareness that, even in the most apparently innocuous situations, things can go wrong.

For those, like a killer whale “trainer,” who are willing to take the risks, maybe that’s good enough. But as our interactions with animals of many different species grow increasingly intimate, we’re going to have to strive to find a balance—and that will require not just greater understanding of animal natures, but greater respect.