How couldn’t your canine be but human?

He left his spot by the gate only when called for meals since a week before; the guards at Angeles Estates in Munoz, Nueva Ecija, that I used to visit, had wondered for whom he seemed to have waited, since no one known to them was expected. Yet, on seeing me stride to the gate, not me but Yankee’s behavior caught them by surprise—he simply peered at me, and then, walked away. 

No nuzzling on my legs, or lapping at my hand, he would pause a bit when I called him, and for days, either ignored me or half-turned to throw hurt looks. I worked on reviving our fun routines those months before I left, even taking over Evelyn to prepare his food, which I had done, when a veterinarian prescribed antibiotics for an infected jaw.

I would hear the guards explaining my side to Yankee, often talking about a “lovers’ quarrel.” Indeed, I could have fallen ill with a “broken heart” before he warmed up to me again, reversing how Argos had felt, when Ulysses’s (Odysseus), his master, pretended to ignore him—the only one in his household who recognized him—for fear of his wife’s suitors, who had taken over his house and plotted his death should he return to Ithaca, in Homer’s epic; deeply hurt, Argos died though the text reveals, Ulysses had shed a tear that disappeared into ridges of his cheeks.

How couldn’t Argos and Yankee be but human? Not a point to argue these days, when dogs as no mere pet but loved companion, even family member in millions of households, have virtually thinned the line that separates the genus between man and canines, to my mind. Yet, whether or not emotions that humans ascribe to their dogs have been proven to equal theirs, a presumed fact, centuries ago, apparently remains the subject of scientific research.

Real or not, doubts hardly figure, nonetheless, in countless legends of unconditional love, a commitment, which humans work hard at, and sometimes, fail in achieving. Recent findings though have progressed, according to Stanley Coren, professor emeritus of the University of British Columbia, writing in his column, Canine Corner at Psychology Today, “we now understand that dogs have all of the same brain structure that produce emotions in humans…also have the same hormones and undergo the same chemical changes humans do during emotional states…even have the hormone oxytocin, which in humans, is involved with feeling love and affection for others.”

Such love affair has since fed an industry with pet spending in 2015 at $60.28 billion, Bob Vetere, American Pet Products Association (Appa) president and CEO, announced during the Global Pet Expo; this figure covers food supplies/over-the-counter (OTC) medications, veterinary care, live animal purchases and other services, as published in the Appa website. He further confirmed that, “The pet humanization trend…continues to drive growth at the premium end of the market.”

With hundreds of breeds these days, a plethora of personalities seem to have emerged as well. Genes like among humans though, eventually take over like the cuddly puppy, Spotty, a German Shepherd-Police Dog mixed breed, given to my sister, then a little girl. Soon, the infamous but desired fierceness of his genes began to grip the neighborhood in terror, hence, locked in his kennel all day; unleashed after supper, anyone loitering close to our house, especially if reeking of wine, so vexed Spotty, that he would leap out of our fence to get at him; how he figured evils lurked in drunkenness, no one knew.

While their personality sometimes echo that of their owners, I think more so, like humans, dogs live up to their names; don’t we intuitively give them one that unaware, proves to be their true nature? Danielle’s beloved, Willow, for example, though conjured up after the Shi Tzu’s fur like the shagged but gentle flow of willow branches, has been so apt for her soft human-like demeanor. Or it could be characterization as in the late Adele, one of my uncle’s canines, a name, which I thought he borrowed from a literary heroine; I later learned ‘twas but a whimsical reference to Adele’s poignant over-eagerness to please, mistaken for being “adelantada.”

The now legendary Fido, on the other hand, whose faithfulness (fido from the Latin “fidus”), has been retold hundreds of times worldwide, so touched the mayor that he awarded Fido, first, with a gold medal, and later, as a tribute to his “exemplary loyalty,” a monument. Hence, Fido in bronze, as if to sprint, to meet his master, to this day can be seen at the exact spot at Piazza Dante, Borgo San Lorenzo, in Tuscany—here he escorted his master to the bus on his way to work and waited for the bus coming home, even after he died in a blast in WWII, for 13 years.

Two others also collectively captured hearts: Hachiko, the Japanese dog, who like Fido, walked to the train station for years to meet his already dead master, and the Scottish Greyfriars Bobby, known for his daily vigils at his master’s grave. Had there been humans like them?