Image by mtagmr
In 2022–the most recent year for which I could find information— there were approximately 70 million of them in the US.
Dogs, that is. Canines. Man’s best friend. Fur babies. Canis lupus familiaris.
Or, as I prefer to call them, those divine creatures who make life worth living and fill one’s soul with joy and purpose (or boo boos for short.)
I currently have two hounds, Jake (a Walker Hound mix)
and Chance (a Bluetick Coonhound.)
Known officially as “the boys,” they are the life of the party in our house and in our neighborhood. Everyone loves them, not just me. I mean, just look at ‘em, right?
Before you assume I’m one of those looney nut people who loves animals more than people (spoiler alert: I am, sometimes), let me explain. If it weren’t for my dogs, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today. Or I’d be twice as much of a person (physically). Something like that. But I definitely would not be as happy, fit, or social as I am if it weren’t for the doggos.
That may sound like a big claim: people can be more social because of their dogs? Isn’t it the other way around? Dog people are supposed to be idiosyncratic loners who disdain others and prefer the company of their pets, right? Oh, wait, those are cat people (or bird people). Just kidding!
Truth is, my dogs bring me out to the world. They force me to take them on walks, runs, play dates at the dog park, and occasional chicken nugget runs to Burger King (or Egg McMuffin excursions if we’re up early.) They steadfastly refuse to enable my laziness.
It’s their super power!
When we’re in public, they do cute (and sometimes annoying) things and people notice. Those people then comment on those things. I notice their dogs and comment on them. Conversations ensue. Introductions are made. Before you know it, there’s another person in the neighborhood I can wave to and call by name. To say nothing of all the folks I casually visit with at parks or the beach. Or those I work with who also have dogs and are therefore instantly more interesting. Sure, I may not make more friends on the job or in the neighborhood because of a shared love of canines, but I definitely make better ones.
Even when I was growing up, the dog usually broke the ice. Kids are naturally interested in other kids who have puppers because there’s instantly something to do when a dog is in tow. Throw the ball. Play tug. Tell him to give you his paw. Plenty of childhood friendships started with, “What’s your dog’s name?” Having a dog was just normal. I didn’t even learn that not everyone has a dog until I started school and met kids who didn’t have one. I always felt sorry for them.
As adults, my husband and I have had dogs since we got married and all of them have been wonderful. I never truly appreciated them, however, until after our son moved out and I had time to breathe. You know what I found out? Dogs are fun! And way easier than kids. You don’t have to make them do homework or get to bed on time. You don’t have to worry about them hanging around with the wrong crowd. Sure, sometimes they can have really bad breath and they occasionally pee on things or throw up on the rug instead of the tile. But that’s small potatoes compared to the stress of teaching your kid to drive. Or wondering how hard to kick his butt so he gets a scholarship (or at least a partial one). Give me a dog any day!
But even more important than giving me the gift of companionship, my dogs do something else: they make me a better person. The most rewarding part of my dog-centered life is that there’s an instant connection with anyone else I see with a dog. Owners talk to each other’s dogs and to each other. We smile as we pass on opposite sides of the street. We happily engage as we watch our canine babies play at the park and it’s so much better than with human kids. People are sometimes standoffish or nervous or overprotective of their children when they play with others. Dog parents, however, love when a new dog playfully chases their baby at the park. They’re overjoyed to see other dogs accept their’s. No one judges the other dog as lacking in pedigree, old, fat, or uncool.
The amazing thing is that the magnanimous feeling I get from dog time bleeds over into all areas of my life. When dog interaction time has been high I drive more patiently; let people with fewer items go before me in the checkout line. I even extend sympathy to a bedraggled parent whose child throws a tantrum in the restaurant. Right next to me.
I find myself thinking things like, Isn’t this a beautiful day! Instead of Why is this moron slowing down for a yellow light? It’s simple: the more dog time I have, the better people time I have. In turn, the more people time my dogs have, the happier and more peaceful they are. The more gracious.
And the less likely to turn the guilt face on me.
So I say, release the hounds! And the pugs, and the labradors, and the poodles. The setters, the retrievers, the Danes, and the teacups. Let the dogs out!
Just make sure you go with them. They’ll love you for it.
And you will love you for it, too.