When a friend recently met me for dinner wearing her dog in a baby carrier I wondered how quickly I could come down with a horrible, highly contagious disease and have to (I am so sorry, so sorry) go home. Because here’s what invariably happens: The entire night becomes less about two friends catching up and more about the dog. Is he thirsty? Is he comfortable? Is he triggered by the filet mignon at the next table? (Yes, no, and YES.) I become the third wheel and I don’t like it.
Nearly 1 in 5 households adopted a pet during the height of the pandemic. These animals have helped many people navigate our uncertain existential times. It’s just hard to imagine that having dinner with me falls under that umbrella. Call me crazy, but trading celebrity gossip and dishing on our mutual friends seems like a fairly benign, dare I say, fun way to spend the evening.
Don’t get me wrong—dogs are great. I have had two amazing ones of my own. They were, in many ways, great companions. Their love rarely wavered, even when I disappeared for months on end (college) or scared them (sang aloud). I even sleep next to the ashes of my favorite one, Lola. But they were not replacements for my human BFFs, and I would never have dreamed of trying to actively integrate them into my friend group. You see, neither of them have ever sung karaoke with me or told me to look up at the sky to see the full moon or nudged me to drop loser boyfriends.
Today, our furry creatures have taken an outsize role in our lives. If I had asked my friend to leave her Chihuahua at home, she would’ve been deeply offended. And yet, I too, am deeply offended when she shows up with her dog, distracted and unable to really engage with me. Also, I don’t want to listen to her wax poetic about her pet’s intelligence or look at photos of his morning escapades in the park. What I want is a friend who listens to me and wants to know how I am doing.
My therapist would probably say I have doggie issues, and he would not be wrong. I will admit I am a little jealous of this 15-pound, hyperactive thing who is without a doubt the love of my friend’s life. So, yeah, I hate it.
Over 40 percent of people say they experience symptoms of separation anxiety when they leave their pet. I don’t remember the last time I went to a hair salon or nail bar where there wasn’t a yapping ball of fluff in the chair next to me, or a golden retriever lounging on the floor. And of course cafés, especially ones with outdoor seating, are like dog parks with great lattes and muffins. New York City may have fairly strict laws about animals (with the exception of service dogs) not being allowed inside restaurants, but in reality, everyone just looks the other way. I wish they wouldn’t—and not just for my sake. What about people who are not just annoyed by dogs, but actively allergic or fearful?
Even when pups stay at home, they somehow become the stars of the evening anyway. I find myself out with friends discussing topics like their application to DOG PPL, the pricey, members-only club described as the Soho House for dogs in Brooklyn. Or their pets’ recently adopted vegan diet. And hell hath no fury like a dog mom’s if you get in the way of her leaving at 10 p.m. sharp to get home for the evening walk.
The truth is that dogs love us because we take care of them. (And boy do we Americans ever, to the tune of $140 billion a year.) This simple, often expensive, trade of unconditional love for food and a place to sleep for hours on end is undoubtedly cute and heartwarming. But this one-sided relationship does not make for particularly interesting conversation. Rather than faking enthusiasm for their pets, I want to talk to my friends about the things keeping them up at night, gameplan their next career move, and dissect the social media of their most recent Tinder match. I know my own sense of self is mostly a result of long-running conversations I have had with my girlfriends—who have held me to the things I have said I wanted, and who have navigated difficult and happy times alike with me. I’d like to think that sharing the most intimate details of our lives is far more meaningful to our relationship than discussing the way Rover’s ears flop.
I miss my friends. I might not go as far as licking their ankles to get their attention—but I’d be happy to fetch them a cappuccino.
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