It’s 2:00 in the morning, and I can’t sleep. The dogs are keeping me up, only I don’t have dogs. A question popped into my mind and opened a flood of thoughts: Is man dog’s best friend?

Everywhere we look, images, films, and books tell us that dogs are man’s best friend. But have we ever wondered if man is dog’s best friend in return?

Today it’s reels, hashtags, t-shirts, cups, hats, blankets. You name it, dogs’ faces and names branded on everything. We include them in family photos. I know many dog moms, dog dads, even dog grandparents. I’m a dog Tía.

We’ve crafted policies and protections for our best friends, often designating them as “emotional support” animals. They’ve become indispensable companions, so much so that we bring them into restaurants, grocery stores, and malls. We pack them into carriers and cages just to have them by our side wherever we go.

Many of our best friends, big and small, share our tight spaces, with barely any room to roam. They eat from the same conglomerate food manufacturers we do, get sick like we do, and are prescribed medications from the same pharmaceutical companies filling our prescriptions.

So who would dare fight for a dog’s right to freedom?

These days, it’s trendy in some circles to shout, “Down with the colonizers!” and “Death to fascism. Freedom to the people!”

I laugh as I write this because I picture a protest:

One side holds up hand-painted signs of sad dogs behind bars, with slogans like: 

#UnleashTheTruth

#PawsNotPrisons

#DogLivesMatter

#LetDogsDecide

#CollarOffRevolution

#FetchYourFreedom

#SniffOutJustice

Meanwhile, on the other side, carefully calculated and sponsored by Purina and Chewy, stands a crowd of passionate dog parents and dog grandparents. Their signs are professionally printed, featuring photos of their dogs’ smiling faces, family vacations, and matching pajamas around the Christmas tree. Their slogans read:

“PetsAreFamily

#BestFriendGoals

“MyDogChoseMe

#AdoredAndSpoiled

#PawfectCompanion

#MyDogMyWorld

#FamilyFurEver

Now that would be a protest I attend. 

Then I think of some of the places I’ve visited, Italy, France, Brazil, Honduras, Costa Rica, Mexico- places where many dogs roam free.

Some are clearly malnourished, but many look healthy and well-fed. They wander the streets with cats, sleep on sidewalks, curl up in doorways. They don’t seem to bother anyone. And no one seems to bother them.

What if we had never domesticated animals, never forced them to become our pets?

What if we simply fed and gave water to dogs and cats as we saw them, without asking for anything in return?

Aren’t we all, in a way, colonizers?

What does it say about us when we take a dog’s freedom for our mental health, our pleasure, our convenience?

We train them, leash them, and impose our lifestyles on them. They become our support, our property. We even implant chips so our “property” can be tracked and returned.

At times I wish I could just watch and not see.

I am no better. Though I didn’t grow up with dogs at home, my ex-husband did. So, about twenty-four years ago, in another life, I had a dog. She was the most beautiful Rottweiler you’d ever seen. Her name was Foxy. Feisty, strong, impossible to train, and fiercely protective. She was my baby.

But Foxy was diagnosed with hip dysplasia, and we had to put her down.

I was devastated. 

I cried every day for three months, swearing I’d never love another dog again. And I never did.

Now I think I’ll try to sleep. I hope to dream of my Foxy. My one and only daughter. Yep-once upon a time, I was a dog mom. #DogMomMemories