Have you ever been troubled by doubts about your dog’s sincerity? No? Most of us blithely take our pet’s love for granted. But if you’re at all like me –- neurotic and paranoid -- you may sometimes suspect that your canine friend may have ulterior motives.  

          Sure, your loving pet jumps all over you when you get home from the office, rests its long brown snoot on your lap while you watch TV, gives you that irresistible sad-eyed look, and seems to enjoy being petted. And, like practically every dog, yours does that weird thing with its leg whenever you rub that certain spot on its belly, although you can’t be 100% sure if the mutt really likes it or if it’s just a reflex thing. So far, my dog hasn’t voiced an opinion either way.  

          But does all this mean he really, truly loves you?  Who knows, he may even secretly hate you. Why? Because you have an endless supply of food that smells a lot better than his and you can eat it any time. You can do your business in a warm, private place, while he has to do his in public, in the cold. You don’t have to wear a leash and can go outside anytime you want. You can take a shower. You can change your clothes everyday; he’s stuck in the same coat forever. You don’t get fleas. Sex is more easily available to you. And so on.         

          For starters, most dogs put on a noisy show, but when push comes to shove, do they really make any real effort to protect you? Sure, Fido barks when he hears noises outside but, unless he’s a Rott, a Pit or a Chihuahua who just swallowed a jalapeno, will the mongrel actually do anything if an intruder enters the domicile, or will your ferocious protector of a pet just crawl behind a sofa or cower at your feet? Mine invariably hides behind the furniture. After all, this isn’t the jungle. It’s suburbia. And where do you suppose the phrase, “all bark and no bite,” came from?            

          Another disturbing question: How can dogs love their masters if they don’t even love other dogs? Affectionate as your dog may appear to you, you may feel compelled to ask yourself this critical question: Do canines who are involved in the mating process with other members of their species even feel anything resembling love for each other or is it all just about sex? I would guess the latter. Surely the perfunctory, investigative posterior-sniffing plus a few fleeting moments of introductory frolic cannot be interpreted as love or even foreplay. Hell, they don’t send each other Hallmark cards on Valentine’s Day or eat dinner by candlelight. Not unless they’re Lady and Tramp and can sit at a nice Italian bistro and eat spaghetti.  

          But we dog owners desperately want to believe that canines, although unable or unwilling to demonstrate any semblance of love for their own species, somehow manage to feel affection for us. How is that possible? I’m surprised that they even find us tolerable, what with our obnoxious tendency to repeat the word “sit” every time we see them and our total lack of interest in fetching branches for no ostensible purpose or retrieving recently deceased ducks.           

          So does your dog lavish attention on you because he really loves you? Or are you simply a gullible idiot who misinterprets his obsequious behavior as true love? Why is he so glad to see you when you come home from work? Does he show you that sad-eyed look, put his head on your knee and drool lovingly all over the pants you just bought at Barney’s because he feels real affection for you? Or does he go through this sycophantic ritual because all he really wants is -– dare I say it? -- food?  I know that’s a bombshell, but think about it for a second. Kibble might be boring but it sure beats prowling the wilds for half-eaten, festering carrion while, at the same time, trying to avoid being squashed by the next hungry elephant that shows up, or torn apart up by a tiger with a huge appetite. And when was the last time you took a hike in the African jungle and stumbled on a box of doggie treats? 

         They like the comfort too. A nice warm place to sleep, regular meals, clean water, schmucks that clean up their shit. Every day, you bring your dog fresh food and water in clean bowls. Guess what? This makes you a busboy. 

          So, the question is, have dogs simply mutated themselves into four-legged con artists in search of free handouts and “creature” comforts, so they don’t have to go through the enormous hassle of keeping warm and dealing with the predatory hierarchy of the wilderness, of which canines are close to the bottom? This would certainly explain why these wild-eyed mongrels of yore, genetically related to wolves, evolved into domestic Milquetoasts that will sit, roll over and play dead on command.  

          Anyway, I know this will be very difficult for many dog owners to swallow, possibly even depressing enough to refill that Zoloft prescription, and I’ll probably get lots of nasty comments (bring it on), but the next time your cute little doggie turns those big, sad lovable eyes on you, ask yourself this: Does Fido really, truly love me or does he just want to sink his jaws into that juicy, medium-rare T-bone I’m gnawing on? 

          No pun intended, but does the name Pavlov ring a bell?