Spot the Dog

I talked to a guy today who was in distress. He'd been accused of a serious charge and had been arrested.

He was pretty fed up about it and had been unsuccessful at a recent, and pretty substantial, attempt to end his life, reliably informing me that it was trickier than I would imagine.

I was pleased that every cell of our bodies recoil in protective reflex (if not anaesthetised) at this most un-Biblical action.

When chatting to him, his face really lit up when he talked about his dogs.

The unconditional love, the need for him and his attention. The playfulness. The reason for a good long walk. The whole "man's best friend" shebang.

We passed a few pleasantries on cats as well, mentioning their undoubted evil, filth, disloyalty and devil-may-care attitude, while also recognising that they have their place. Generally, that was squatting over next door's plant pots.

But every time he returned to the dogs, his face lit up, with genuine affection, genuine interest. The stuff of life. It was a genuine passion for his three, it has to be said , quite miniature dogs  (Chihuahua, Yorkshire terrier , you know the sort). He appreciated their clear needs and feedback.

He understood their their expectation of routine. He was fully aware that should that routine be transgressed, certain behavioural manifestations of disapproval would be the result, but the playful way they jumped around when happy and exercised and the mutual affection, they shared covered all the gaps. It hit the spot. (Not Spot.. spot)

Every time he returned to the dog, his face lit up again. With a big smile.

Not the smile you would expect from somebody picked up on a historical offence, highly distressed with the situation, and recently discharged from hospital after partially skewering an internal organ.

But nevertheless there it was, in the most unexpected of areas. A genuine smile.

It got me to thinking.

These dogs.

They may be much more than man's best friend.

They could be the ultimate saviour of the human condition.