Man’s best friendship is furever, tail and all
Whether or not you spell their name backward, or consider that they may in fact be the species with nine lives, as the number itself is fully spelled out within their very name, dogs (aka canines) are indeed sublime, perhaps even divine critters.
As luck would have it, Canis domesticus has for some reason decided to hitch its waggly tailed wagon to us upright-walking — though hardly upright — schmucks.
At some point tens of thousands of years ago in the evolution of mankind, dogs decided to throw nature for a loop and lose their lupus tendencies, preferring long walks by our side and dry bones for snacks instead of the loose flesh of our necks as appetizers, as wolfpacks are wont to do.
As for their loyalty to us wayward folk, you may well ask what’s in it for domesticated dogs?
I, for one, have no idea, but having said that, perhaps it’s a good thing they remain speechless — having been stuck with a single-word vocabulary (woof! bow-wow! wan! ... pick your patois) since we ditched the trees and hit the savanna standing.
What if they were suddenly gifted with intelligible speech, and admitted they were only with us for the free lunch and protection from coyotes?
How depressing.
Let’s see what the ancients have to say.
The leading poetic rivals of the Tang Dynasty (618-907) made a few references to man’s best friend in their copious body of work.
“A dog’s bark amid the water’s sound/Peach blossom that’s made thicker by
the rain …” said Li Bai (701762) in his Visiting the Taoist Priest Dai Tianshan But Not Finding Him.
The mention evokes a sense of longing and melancholy, associated with a common background din that forms an aural construct around our memories. And Du Fu (712-770), in A
Song of War Chariots, perhaps unwittingly revealed that we often take our barking brothers for granted.
“Men of China are able to face the stiffest battle/But their officers drive them like chickens and dogs.”
Moving back to modernity, the staying power of the popular pet is a testament to adaptability.
Several millennia ago, during the pastoral stage of social organization, dogs were bred for their ability to keep sheep and other vegetarians from running beyond the shepherd’s ken — while eagerly awaiting their “masters” to slaughter these same ruminants and then throw them a bone.
As if a loyal pup’s wagging tail and playful pouncing when we arrive home each night isn’t enough to cement their friendship with us forever — let’s not forget that when buildings crumble in quakes or the sightless try and negotiate a busy intersection, it’s not the cats and goldfish that are called to duty.