Dogs fill a gap in your life – and leave one when they go

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/mar/23/dogs-life-family-canine

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This country is going to the dogs. Or at least, its cinemas are. This weekend Picturehouse is hosting a series of special screenings for canine guests, complete with bowls of water in the foyer and blankets on seats, after a year-long experiment in letting people take their dogs to one London cinema apparently went swimmingly. Although they perked up noticeably any time a sheep appeared on screen, the dogs were apparently better behaved and less messy than most human customers, and almost certainly dealt with spilled popcorn more effectively.

This is the sort of story that divides the world in two, between those who think it’s quite sweet, and those who think this symbolises absolutely everything wrong with modern society. Why aren’t these dogs off getting muddy and rolling in fox poo, like proper dogs, leaving humans to watch romcoms in peace? Yet there is a seemingly insatiable appetite – among urban owners in particular – for things they can do alongside their pets: yoga classes, dog-friendly brunches, offices that don’t mind you sneaking a mutt under your desk, even speed-dating for singletons who want their new partner to get on with their pooch.

Much like parents, doting dog owners can be woefully self-absorbed, and no doubt it’s all maddening for anyone who is allergic or scared of them

Dogs are becoming the new children, with an entire service industry springing up to satisfy their humans’ constant desire to be around them, and the sad reality that, what with working for a living, most of the time we can’t. Hence an equally burgeoning trade in doggy daycare (yes, really) for pets whose owners work all hours, and suburban parks full of overwhelmed dog walkers fighting a losing battle with six leads.

And having been away all day, what guilty owners crave is “quality time” with their fur babies in the evenings and at weekends. They don’t want to leave the dog cooped up in a flat, but they also don’t want to give up on going out either, and so they reason that, unlike a toddler, at least he’ll lie down quietly under a restaurant chair. Much like parents, doting owners can be woefully self-absorbed, and no doubt it’s all maddening for anyone who is allergic, scared, or just sick of dodging deposits on pavements.

But lately I have found the sight of other people’s dogs everywhere – snoozing under country pub tables, plunging thrilled into the school-gate melee, sitting patiently on the tube – oddly comforting. Our own dog had to make his final journey to the vet last week and the house feels hollow without him, even though he spent most of his final few months snoring obliviously in his basket. There’s something so bleak about coming downstairs in the morning to an empty kitchen, rather than the unbridled joy of a labrador anticipating breakfast. The thing about dogs is that they have an uncanny ability to sense whatever’s missing in their humans’ lives – companionship for the lonely, comfort for the afflicted, an excuse for riotously busy families to escape for a walk – and fill the gap.

There was nothing obviously missing when we got him; the opposite, in fact. I was on maternity leave with a tiny baby and it was like having twins, with either baby or puppy invariably awake and howling at 3am. But as time wore on and the much-wanted second baby never came, Duff sensed what was missing almost before I did. Most dogs have a natural affinity with toddlers, based on a shared interest in biscuits, mud and footballs. It’s more unusual to find one who settles down beside the Monopoly board as if thoroughly expecting to be dealt into the game, or scratches at the door when excluded from a Minecraft session, or has to be forcibly banned from the trampoline. In retrospect, Duff saw a sibling-shaped gap, and filled it.

Which is why the love affair between millennials and dogs – come on, who else takes their pet out for yoga and avocado toast? – is fascinating. There must be a gap here, too, a reason that “good boy” memes celebrating all the times dogs seemed too pure for an undeserving world have replaced kitten jokes in social media currency. Unlike haughty cats, dogs are walking comfort blankets. They’re non-judgmental providers of security in anxious times, and unlike so many other things in precarious lives they stand for loyalty, permanence and undimmed optimism. When other trappings of adult life – steady jobs, home ownership, someone to love – seem out of reach, at least a dog is achievable. It sounded gimmicky when Labour made the right to own a pet in rented accommodation part of its housing policy, but I wonder if they weren’t on to something, among Londoners at least.

The nagging question is whether using dogs almost as therapy in this way is entirely fair to them. Not for the “all pet ownership is animal abuse” brigade, obviously, and certainly not if owners think they can get away with a night at the movies in lieu of a proper walk.

But dogs are conditioned by centuries of breeding to want to be with their humans, to go where they go, no matter how boring the outing, which is why every time I take my coat off the hall peg, I still half-expect a hopeful labrador to come bounding up with its lead between its teeth. There is a gap, once again, in our house that needs filling. So who am I to judge the gap in yours?