Fido says he wants to join a dating service.
Me, I was listening to a baseball game, concentrating on a two-on, two-out, one-run game, and this took me by surprise.
“What the heck-fire?” said I.
“It’s not that I’m lonely, but I’d like to have someone of my ilk to share experiences, romp around, get into sniffing contests, have conversations, discuss brands of kibble, that kind of thing.
“Good God, man,” I said. “Mammoth has more dogs than humans. Are you sure you’re not already sitting on a canine gold mine?”
“Umm, well. I’m not talking about that. I like hanging around with Tucker and FJ and the other dogs in the neighborhood. It’s just that there’s something missing.”
Fido styles himself a worldly hound. He’s not a snoot, but …
“Remember when we took that trip to the Bay Area?” he said.
“Yeah that was a great trip.”
“Did you notice that they have slightly changed the tapas menu at César on Piedmont Avenue?”
We had been in the East Bay, Oakland headed to Berkeley, Fido’s head hanging out the rear door window, as usual. He was taking in everything.
“No, I didn’t notice.”
“That’s because you don’t have a nose like mine.”
On and on he went. His hungry nose, his thirst for culture, food and all of that – and for conversation about these things, with other dogs.
“And do you think that you’ll find another dog like you by joining a dog dating service?"
“You never know.”
So we began the hunt for a dog dating service on the Internet. (Back to the baseball game for a moment: the runners were stranded, inning over, so baseball took a back seat for the moment.)
We found DoggieDating.com, but that’s in the U.K., and was more about humans finding humans by introducing their dogs to each other. Shameless.
There was FindMyDogADate.com, but that was so weird that Fido dismissed it even before I did. There was TheDogMatch.com. Still no luck.
“With humans,” said Fido, “an awful lot of people find a companion on the Internet.”
“Yeah, but I wonder about the true success rate of those things. Don’t you wonder about that?”
“Wonder? I’m a dog. I don’t wonder. Hey hey hey hey”!
I pushed aside the mouse and looked into Fido’s eyes. He’d had such hope. Such dreams. He seemed downhearted. It had been such a good idea.
“I’m afraid you’re kind of out of luck.”
Fido lay down and put his snout on his front paws.
“Let’s make our own blog,” he said. “Woof.com. Or ISniffYou.com. Something like that. Or better yet, just sign me up on Match.com or one of those high-traffic dating sites. Gregarious fellow, red/black hair, culturally inclined.”
I gave him a skeptical look.
“Do you really think that could work?”
“On the Internet, no one knows you’re a dog.”