Doggie Days

The Reality phenomenon, which will go down as one of the myriad disappointing cultural developments of this decade, has now stretched its tentacles over the entire television universe. No longer confined to (relatively) big budget extravaganzas like "Survivor" and "The Amazing Race," the lesser permutations can be found all over the cable map, from slices-of-life like A&E's "Airline" to quasi-realistic Las Veagas experiences on the Travel Channel to gay-themed makeovers on Bravo. The latest net to get into the act is the pretentiously named Animal Planet, which among its many documentaries (the initial, respectable form of "reality programming") has premiered a competition named "Who Gets the Dog?"

The title, which sounds like some kind of hip-hop slang, is meant literally. Three couples vie for the right to adopt a rescued pooch. Each gets to play, feed, walk and try to coax the stray into performing simple tricks like fetching and jumping to command. A trio of judges, comprising two animal behaviorists and a sitcom writer (Merrill Markoe) then determines which couple seems to relate best to the animal, and rewards them custody. This concept was too hard for me to resist, mostly because I am a dog-lover, and only minutely because I used to write sitcoms.
That said, the program was a bit dull. There were a few useful maintenance hints scattered among the assigned tasks, such as how to wipe a dog's ears, but the potential owners (or to be p.c, "guardians") were largely clueless and, though well-meaning, pretty inept (rather like I was ten years ago when I adopted Josie).

When the pooch, an endearing white terrier, was awarded to the female "roommate" couple (whom I hoped were lesbians so there was less chance they'd separate), I felt a twinge of sympathy regret for the also-rans. But I also knew, as did they, that another dog was panting for them in a local animal shelter right down the road, and they wouldn't be losers for long. But herein lies the problem with this program: there is no real conflict, and certainly no potential villains to root against, like Omarosa or Rob-and-Amber or Johnny Fairplay.

This is the cuddliest of reality programs. I was less motivated to buy the advertised products than I was to call my dog to my seat to share in the experience, although her eyes cannot decipher the 512-line picture on my retro Mitsubishi. I just wanted to bask in the mutual comfort of the dog's compliant warmth. And while doing so I was reminded of some of the most salient contributions of dogs, which is that they bring out the very best in their human companions. I truly believe there is nothing more beautiful in the panoply of natural relationships than that between humans and dogs.

In their persistent reliability, dogs are rather like Social Security. It is reassuring to know that they are always there, and always reliable, and will never snub you owing to changed circumstances. Perhaps a wise Democratic flak (if one even exists) could conceive a publicity approach that would use a dog as a symbol for the dependability of the system--as did RCA long ago with its "Master's Voice" logo. Then the Republicans can be characterized as trying to clip the ears or bob the tail of what is a perfectly good animal in the first place, just needing a little guidance and responsibility.