Living with a dog is far better than living without one, and here is some anecdotal evidence to prove this. It may help you make the long overdue decision to move in with a pet, but let’s not kid ourselves: in the end, the dog will make all the decisions.
No one will ever understand you like your dog—or any dog, for that matter. When things go south, it’ll be in your lap ready for a cuddle. When you’re crying, it will lick tears off your face. And when you feel like dancing with joy, your dog and its wagging tail will join your celebration. You don’t have to say or explain anything, but even if you choose complete honesty, there’s no need to fear rejection. A dog’s eyes see everything, ears hear the slightest change of tone, and nose sniffs out every mood. While we still don’t fully understand what makes dogs sad or what excites them, we know they are able to tune in to our feelings and simply share them with us. They won’t comment, offer advice, or get bored when we complain about the same thing for the seventh time. Hugging a dog takes away at least half of life’s burdens. Conversely, a wagging tail and a dog’s eyes make all misery go away and amplify all joy. Dogs are known as man’s best friends, because in friendship they never make the kind of mistakes that humans often make. They never ask stupid questions, they listen patiently, and their sheer presence eliminates the penetrating singularity of human fate: both immediately and in the long term. Dogs are also stable in their feelings; they are unlikely to suddenly file for divorce.
But they also have their moods. An offended dog is a hundred times worse than an angry spouse. Instead of offering to play or offer a kilo of sausages, it’s best to just be your dog’s best friend—empathize with them and wait until they graciously accept the offer of walkies.
Lessons in Neighborly Coexistence
Dogs really help in our interactions with other humans—when out walking your pooch you will, inevitably, come across other human and non-human beings. Even the most curmudgeonly of individuals will eventually be compelled to join in the conversation about Jackie eating the leftover fried chicken lying in the grass or a sow with cubs that was seen in the park. “Of course, it’s best not to let Nellie off the leash, she would greet literally anyone!” One can learn plenty about others’ passions and resentments when chatting about dogs, their ailments, and adventures; look deeply into people’s souls and feel sorry for them (our Freddy doesn’t touch chicken bones, and gives wild boars a wide berth, he’s very smart, just like his dad!). Chatting to other dog owners, as the dogs get entangled in their leads, sniff each other’s body parts or try to bite them off, is a perfect antidote to social isolation, as well as an opportunity to listen to those whom we often misclassify as having nothing in common with us.
This can be quite surprising, and such chats can offer us a beautiful lesson in humility and openness, sudden epiphanies and a camaraderie with strangers whose names we will never know because we only exchange the names of our dogs. Hiding behind our four-legged friends as if behind a protective cloak, we can reveal our need to coexist with others. A random encounter between two locals, a priceless opportunity to break with the urban protocol of cool indifference. With a dog, it is easier to be human for a while. Even if hearing about the chicken-eating Jackie leaves us with a sense of superiority and importance, this bubble will soon burst when it turns out that Jackie’s owner does not even recognize us when we pass her without our dog. Again, we are just perfect strangers.
Physical Rehab
It wasn’t the Scandinavians who came up with the saying: “There is no bad weather, only bad clothes.” That’s certainly what every dog thinks when it’s drizzling outside, the wind bends the weeping willows and the snow mixes with the rain to form a perfectly adhesive substance. Life with a dog requires a suitable wardrobe: tall wellies, rain and windproof jackets, and touchscreen gloves—a necessity for walking the dog in the cold while scrolling through the metaverse bubbling away on our mobiles.
Walking a dog can be a relaxing experience: physical rehab that promotes our physical and mental wellbeing. It can also be humiliating—for both the owner and the dog. A five-minute dash to relieve physiological needs by the nearest tree or bins. The choice is ours, because dogs—with the few exceptions of those who don’t like to get wet and cold (this can be remedied with a suitable doggy wardrobe)—always want to go for a long walk, full of unfamiliar paths, new smells, and vast spaces allowing free movement.
Let’s be as smart as our dogs. Let’s crave walks and get the most out of them. Walking is healthy, stabilizes our heart rate, and lowers blood pressure and stress hormones. Sticking to green paths and looking at nature is a calming, easily accessible antidepressant. It also allows us to see the changing seasons and that weather apps are lying to us, and more broadly, that we too are a part of nature—something that the contemporary world is trying scrupulously to obliterate. Well, in these busy times, daily walks are not a break from life—they are life. And every dog understands this!
Pure Goodness
What distinguishes a day without a dog from a day with a dog is the sum, weight, and volume of the hard-to-measure goodness that zooms around our home on four paws. Goodness is—not unlike nature—amoral. Sometimes it bites, competes for territory and food, and not only loves you fiercely but also fiercely loves snacks. It is subject to instincts and succumbs to reflexes. But although this goodness is imperfect, it is also unquestionable. And the way it operates means that it intensifies the goodness in ourselves.
This might be because, for all their qualities, dogs are creatures that depend on us humans. They need care, attention, and affection. They can ask for it, express their gratitude, and reward us for the good things we do. And this is what makes intransigent fathers who once sternly refused to agree to a dog for their daughter’s tenth birthday, affectionately walk their Miniature Spitzes or Chihuahuas around the block, let them sleep in their bed and even ride in the front seat of their fancy car. And eventually, they cry when their initially unwanted furry friend passes away.
As they enter our lives, dogs inform us that it will be our job to say goodbye to them. They spend their entire lives with us, they put their lives in our hands. Maybe that’s why we’ll happily get drenched on the daily walks or pop to the shops for their favorite food after a hard day at work. In the park, we’ll throw the same slobbery stick for the thousandth time, and before bedtime, we’ll scratch them exactly where they like to be scratched. What wouldn’t one do for a dog?
Pure Joy
Dogs never change and they never get bored. This is their great ability—persisting in an age that obsessively conditions us to constant change and novelty. If we discount processes resulting from the passage of time, a dog’s personality remains the same. They like to walk the same paths, they like to return to their people, they like the same chewed-up blankets and soft toys. They see meaning in unchangeability. Every day they are ready for the greatest happiness—pure joy, it’s almost as if they feel it for the first time.
Returning home and opening the front door guarantees an explosion of joy—your own mother wouldn’t be this happy to see you. For a few moments, you are the center of the universe, lavished with affection, licks, and jumps. Admittedly, this might mean having to repair your tights or mend a torn pocket. But who cares when, for a few moments, you are, once again, a dream come true, the answer to every request. Everything else might as well disappear—forget the frustrating job, crowded commute, and the electricity bill! There’s just you and your dog, who doesn’t want anyone else but you. In just a moment, for the two thousand and one hundred thirty-seventh time, you’ll go together to pee on the same lamppost, find the rotten tennis ball lost in the morning, and wet your paws in the cold puddle that forms again and again in the same hole in the pavement. Who could stop you from being happy again and again?
The arguments against dogs are well known. From the cost of keeping an animal, through dog hair on every surface (including your cup of tea), to the hassle of finding a dog hotel whenever you go away—but who cares? And if the above empirical evidence isn’t enough to convince you, just try to imagine Professor Filutek without his companion, dog Filuś, or Przekrój without Thoughts of Fafik the Dog. Unthinkable!
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