Fourteen thousand years ago, just after breakfast, some pre-historic genius managed to convince a wolf not to eat him, and be his companion instead. Since then, mankind and dogs have been inseparable; wherever we have gone, so have our faithful hounds. The loyal, stupid mutts.
Dogs are hardwired to like us, no matter how badly some humans treat them. Not only will they fetch our slippers, they don’t even complain when we sink those slippers into their backsides. They’re so eager to please us that it makes every cat sick in the stomach just thinking about it.
Now over the years I’ve had my share of run-ins with dogs. I’ve been attacked, chased, and had roaming mongrels the size of a Shetland ponies eye my crotch and snarl. As a result, our relationship is only slightly less strained than that of Kevin and Julia.
But it’s not the dogs’ fault; it’s their idiot owners. Especially the morons who lock them up in yards the size of postage stamps, allow them to bark day and night, and forget to wash, pat, groom, or feed them. Plus far too many owners prefer to exercise their hounds by unlocking their front gates after dark, and letting Fido take a self-guided tour of our city.
Meanwhile at the Gladstone pound, approximately ten dogs a week are sent to Doggy Heaven, because they’re no longer ‘cute widdle puppies’. Honestly, dogs deserve to be treated better than this, but until some alien species arrives to stop the rot, the poor mutts are stuck with us.
But there is hope. You see, I firmly believe that if a caveman can domesticate a wolf, then with the proper instruction, firm guidance, and lots of thwackings with a thick, rolled up newspaper, any human can be trained to become dogs’ best friend. And it’s never too late to start.