Dog Spelled Forwards Is “Dog”

First, a disclaimer: I adore dogs. I was raised with them, I’ve helped raise a few of my own, and I’m generally of the mind that life is far better when shared with them. At times when, for one reason or another, I haven’t been able to own a dog—like now—I’ve still sought out canine companionship, either by working as a dog-walker, volunteering at shelters, or just haunting the dog runs at local parks. My husband has wryly observed that I’m on a first-name basis with all the pooches at our neighborhood sandlot—although I often don’t recognize their owners.

Dog-crazy as I am, there’s still a particular kind of dog fandom I’ve never bought into: the idea of dogs as enlightened beings, whose inherent knowledge and understanding surpass that of humans. If bookstore shelves are any indication, this ideology is flourishing; a quick scan of the pet section at Barnes & Noble, or a search on Amazon.com, yields dozens of titles that celebrate “dog wisdom.” Most have been published in the last two or three years.

I’m not talking about gift books here—those collections of adorable puppy photographs, accompanied by harmless bits of “dog sense,” like “Don’t be afraid to get your paws dirty,” or, “Scratch where it itches.” Nor am I talking about the hugely popular new books known as pet memoirs. I have no great enthusiasm for the border collie sagas of Jon Katz, or John Grogan’s runaway bestseller Marley & Me, but I have no real truck with them, either. My own experiences with dogs have led me to acknowledge that training them, living with them, and learning to communicate with them can indeed be hugely rewarding—even life-changing. And stories about doggy trials and tribulations are awfully entertaining.

No, the books that rub my fur the wrong way are the ones with titles like Zen Dogs and Angel Dogs: Divine Messengers of Love. Such tomes (and yes, these are real examples) posit that our hairy, stick-chewing sidekicks are actually fonts of untapped sagacity, whose deep profundity can save us from our own anxious, misguided lives. Authors Kate Solisti-Mattelon and Lynda Niemeier put it this way in their book, Conversations With Dog: An Uncommon Dogalog of Canine Wisdom:

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I totally agree with you. I am a dog (and cat) lover but to ascribe all this higher spiritual plane stuff to them is, I think, an insult to their basic nature. Why can't we love them for just what they are, nothing else, just as they love us for what we are? Plus, an undisciplined animal is likely to end up in trouble with other people, so we owe it to them to provide loving training.
This is hilarious. I actually loved Marley and Me and see my dog in Marley as I am sure many do. That being said, my dog is as enlightened as my gold fish. He's a great dog and companion and he provides me and endless source of amusement, irritation, love and companionship but none of that involves any "thought" on his part (well maybe the irritation).
It feels good to write.

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