An only dog is a lonely dog, an alien among the human species.
We almost expect them to read our minds, to know what we want them to do and not do. Constantly surprised we are that they have so little grasp of common sense.
How do they not know that silently walking up and lying at our feet when we are sitting down is a bad idea?
We are supposed to know the dog is there so we won’t trip over the dog. So nobody gets hurt.
A dog’s constant task is to determine who in the house is doing the most interesting thing, and participate. With two adults and a 2-year-old in the house, that’s exhausting.
The male adult, the garbage Sherpa, is constantly taking trash outside. If anyone goes outside, the dog wants to go. If someone is carrying smelly stuff around, the dog is all over that. If a person is taking smelly stuff outside, it could be the best part of the dog’s day.
If an adult is cooking, or eating, that could be the highlight of the day. Just let that person drop their hand with any type of food on it, and one lick of a tongue takes care of that.
If a child is running around with any kind of toy, obviously the child wants the dog to give chase and jump at the toy.
If someone is sitting, or lying on the floor, that means he or she wants the dog’s company.
Inconceivable, the idea that we do not want the dog alongside us, in front of us, behind us, at every moment.
Humans are all hands. Instead of fingers, dogs have sharp teeth to handle their worlds, which largely consist of things with no purpose other than to be shredded by a dog.
Dogs are as sentimental a creature as exists, toward people, but they are sentimental toward few things. A favorite hat? Nothing more to a dog than anything else the master brings home from the pet store.
Yet, these humans do not reciprocate. They do not try to eat the dog’s food, or lick the dog’s face and paws at every chance, or follow the dog everywhere he goes.
A dog might live in constant doubt of his identity, except that, looking out the window, or going outside, it’s never long until another dog walks past, until somewhere nearby, a dog barks or howls. The dog then knows that he is not alone. More of his type are in much the same situations.
With a super powerful nose, the dog can smell the presence of other dogs.
He sees another dog, who responds with the same intense excitement at the appearance of another of his kind. When they meet, they each know what to do, while the humans look upon the meeting with the same bemused incredulity that the dog feels practically all day every day at these people who say they want him around, but seem to have so little idea of a dog’s understanding of basic dignity.
To be man’s best friend might seem ennobling to us, but it’s a hard thing.