After all that time, there’s a thing, like a magnetic attraction, between dogs and humans. We’ve studied them for so long we can read every twitch and sigh.

S’pose it was easier than chasing down mammoths.

And I get it. I do.

The behind-the-ear scratch. The food in a fancy bowl. The bed by the fireplace.

Gotta admit that Julia’s pretty fun to hang out with. And I’m grateful, really I am, that her family took me in.

Still, I don’t need them.

You need someone, eventually they let you down and you end up feeling like a real doofus.

the park

As Julia walks, I sneak peeks out of her backpack, like I always do.

We pass the meerkat family, poking out from their den holes like the Whac-A-Mole game they used to have at Mack’s mall. I see the flashy flamingos, with their one-legged balancing act. And the terrifyingly beautiful tigers. Even their cute cubs give me the willies.

Families, I’ve noticed, take a lot of different shapes. Jim and Joe, the penguins, adopted an abandoned egg, and they are the sweetest doting parents you ever saw. I see it with humans at the park, too. Families of all shapes and sizes and colors and genders and yep, they all seem to do just fine.

We round a corner past Sea Otter Alley. Oliver and Olivia are floating calmly on their backs, holding each other’s paws. It’s pretty adorable, I have to admit. But me, I don’t need the trouble that comes with family.

Babies puking. Toddlers whining. Spouses nagging.

Talk about a design flaw.

change

The park’s pretty big. Lots of twisty paths and fascinating smells. All the parts have names. There’s the African Aviary. The Outback. Penguin Cove. Lemur Land.

It’s like puzzle pieces of the world—a little Africa here, a little Asia there.

Dogs, you can find us pretty much everywhere. Our territory is Earth. As long as we’re hooked up with humans, that is.

Along the shady paths, volunteer guides will answer your questions. They’ll tell you about how animals used to roam one part of the world or another until things changed.

Things change.

That’s one thing I’ve figured out. Don’t ever assume a little patch of the planet belongs to you.

Things change. Boxes go flying.

my inner wolf

On our way, we always stop by the wolf habitat. Julia loves wolves. Probably because they remind her of me.

You have to look hard, maybe squint a little, but if you try, you can catch a hint of my inner wolf.

It’s in the eyes, mostly. Also in my distinguished profile.