What's the Point of a Dog?

Bayram tries to help make beer.

I have good news. If you have to ask, you probably don't need one. Don't you feel better?

It is a fair question, of course. When you get right down to it, most dogs can't or won't do much. Most of us aren't hunting game, don't have major sensory disfunction, aren't  herding cattle, or needing additional home security. That pretty much eliminates all the major uses of a dog, unless you have excess dog food laying around.

So, the purpose of a dog is largely what you make it. The purpose of a dog to to exemplify the relationship you can achieve with the dog. Dog's have their own personalities and instinctual proclivities, but within that they are quiet flexible: they can be trained, almost to the point of wanting it. They'll do what you tell them to do, if you can figure out how to communicate it through a thick doggy skull. Some have thicker skulls than others. Luck of the draw.

There are a few universals in the dog experience, one is what we here call The Presence. At first you don't notice it, then one day, your friend borrows your dog to climb Mt. Washington, or you send the dog to the kennel. You walk back into the house, maybe sit down, pour some coffee, check the email. Something mundane that you do all the time, and it dawns on you: the dog, The Presence, is missing. I have not yet put my finger on how I know the difference, besides the obvious non-dog. Even sitting here, I know the dog is here. I know because the house can't stay quite without some doggy sound: shifting during a nap, a lazy sigh, the jingle of tags, the click of nails on wood, and mysterious smells. The intent motion around the kitchen table during dinner. The soft snoring at night. It's a million tiny things that don't want to be delineated.

I also think The Presence is the reason that people get new dogs when the originals pass on.

Another universal is the fundamental dog mindset. The dog functions with a completely different cognitive mode. They live a life of patient anticipation. They're constantly watching the present for signs of the future. The best example of this how easily they're fooled when you fake throw a toy, but it manifests in other ways. Bayram winces whenever he sees the squirt gun, even when he's not about to get it. He runs to the kitchen when the oven timer goes off and runs to the window when there is a certain truck noise, indicating the immanent arrival of a delivery man. They don't seem to have vivid memories, but they are constantly internalizing the causal events around them. They want to flow with the situation, and do not see themselves as an active forces that can guide it.

Dogs also see themselves as some part of a social unit. It's pretty commonly stated that they see their family as their pack, but there's some divergences between mixed people/dog groups and packs. You're not genetically related, you're in charge of all the food, you're really good at being alpha, you sleep in different places, eat different things, one of you does virtually nothing to support the group, you tolerate interactions with other packs pretty well (if not, you've got problems!) and generally you're not too interested in breeding with each other. Your relationships is not as close and more divergent than it would be in a pack. That said, they still tend to bond with you because their constantly watching and trying to anticipate you. They know what you're doing and trying to tell them better than anyone else, because they've been staring at you for years.

Like people, the shape and pace of the relationship changes over time. If you get a puppy, you'll swing from a creature that constantly needs you and doesn't get it, to something more measured. If you go on lots of walks, you'll learn how to walk together. You'll figure out your favorite commands and one of you will forget the least used ones. You'll wrestle with the situations where you can't seem to communicate with each other. You figure out how to schedule a day so you can be home for pee breaks, and get the good kennel on speed dial.

This explains why people and their dogs seem like they are meant for each other. They're somehow in tune with each other, even if the dog appears to be orbiting the on the leash at insane speeds. (The dog knows it can get away with it!)  Same goes for the dogs that respond to commands as if by remote control. The owner and dog have spent a huge amount of time getting it straight.

We and The Dog have always fallen somewhere in the middle. He knows sit, stay, down, and no. He walks pretty well, but he randomly jumps for a sniff or a passing cyclist. He also likes to protect us...  He follows us around like it's a heavy duty. He sighs heavily whenever we leave the room and he somehow -has- to follow us. He wants to sniff whatever we're doing. He's reliable. He wants out at 0600, breakfast by 0700, a walk by 0800, out again at 1700, and dinner around 1800, followed by an evening orbiting around the couch, coping petting where he can.

There isn't really a point. It is what it is. He's here. We're here. Together.

"What happens if I feed him?"
"He poops."