Dogs rule despite who wins this election by Hugh Panero

It will be a tough week for everyone, and I can no longer think or talk about politics. I would rather discuss dogs and why I like them more than most humans. In these challenging times, we can learn a lot from our canine pals, such as unconditional love, persevering through hard times, living in the moment, the pleasure of a good meal, loyalty, and the benefits of having no sense of time.  

Instead of catastrophizing the outcome of this election, find a friendly dog to play with, whatever side you are on, because life will go on, and dog escapism is healthy. I intend to spend more time with my dog, Ella Fitzgerald, a white Whoodle who is part Wheaton Terrier and Poodle.

Ella is relentless. All she wants to do is play frisbee, and I am happy to turn off the TV, leave my iPhone on the table, and toss a few. If you have a pulse, you can join us. All humans are welcome. She will place her red frisbee at your feet and slowly back up, preparing for a long toss. It is 45 minutes of not thinking about the outcome in Pennsylvania.  

Ella provides this service to all. I regularly look out my window and see her red frisbee floating by, tossed by the UPS or Fedex guy, a landscaper, plumber, electrician, or one of the many others who come to my home. They are seduced by Ella’s impressive vertical leap and joy as she snatches the frisbee out of the air, completing the human-dog aerial partnership.

I once saw my neighbor Mike on his bike, slowly rolling by our property. With Ella’s frisbee secured in her mouth, she tracked him behind our invisible fence like a diligent border patrol agent. My dog-savvy neighbor, understanding the security protocol, dismounted, crossed the invisible fence onto my property, and played with her for half an hour. 

I am all in on our dog. I lower her car window so she can stick her head out, even if it’s freezing outside, and I toss her treats for no reason. Acquiring a Pup Cup is part of our ritual, and at my daughter’s wedding, we even offered signature drinks named after our dogs. The “Ella Fitzgerald” was a Spicy Paloma.

Each morning, Ella jumps onto our bed and belly crawls to me or my wife for a morning scratch. If we do not comply because we are sleeping or pretending to be asleep, she will nudge her cold, wet nose under one of our hands to press the point. We eventually comply.

My relationship with Ella can be humbling. During our morning walk, she occasionally has difficulty completing her number two evacuation and stares at me with a pathetic look, asking for assistance. I check her back door, and inexplicably, I find myself pulling grass out of her butt using one of my doggy bags. I laugh at myself, my inner voice saying, “You used to run a media company, and now you’re pulling grass out of your dog’s ass.”  And I am ok with that. 

Ella is all love, and returning it in kind to her and your other human or dog friends will help you live longer. She has few bad qualities. Ella does not beg for food or chew on stray socks. She does gently sticks her snout in everyone’s crotch for a head scratch, catching a few humans off guard. Her periodic barking is designed to warn us about murderous squirrels, foxes, and the occasional deer that wander onto our property. She is very trusting and enthusiastically bolts into the vet or groomer, looking for affection, blissfully ignorant of prior bad experiences. If only humans could harness this skill. 

She was not bothered when hearing false reports of immigrants eating cats and dogs in Springfield, Ohio. She knew it was BS. She is terrified by the low-battery chirping sound from one of many smoke detectors. We are usually asleep, and upon hearing it, she flies into our bedroom and stands on my chest, shaking, her tiny tail in the “danger” pose. My wife quickly takes her outside while I hunt for the chirping culprit with a replacement 9 Volt battery and a ladder in hand, wondering if I will survive the climb—anything for Ella.  

Instagram and TikTok have also incorporated my love for dogs into their customized algorithms. My content stream is filled with cute dogs playing with babies (the tech companies know about my new grandson, Zev). To keep me hooked, they send me videos of dogs at the airport waiting for their soldier human to return from an extended tour of duty. The dog loses it when their best friend in camo shows up. The most recent gut-wrenching video was about a sickly man who had been battling cancer for a year, losing over 60 lbs. When he reunited with his dog, the animal did not recognize him at first and barked at him for a few minutes until the dog’s smell superpower identified who he was and then overwhelmed him with affection.    

I rely on my extensive dog friend network to help me cope during these ugly times. There is Diasy, an energetic chocolate Lab who lives up the street and visits regularly. Upon seeing me, she accelerates from zero to 20 mph pretty fast, and before you know it, I am covered with licks and hit with lab body bumps. Another dog pal from the hood is Remy, an older, heavyset Lab who does not like other dogs but loves me (or at least I think so). Remy provides relief from any bad news day. My next-door neighbor’s dogs include Cassie and Huck. They showed up the other day, emerging from the bushes, sensing my need for companionship with Election Day approaching. All these dogs remember my history of treat-giving. If I am not outside, the dogs sit outside my front door and wait for treats. 

My newest dog friends, Scruffy and Casey, are small Aussie Doodles. They are brilliant and direct. Scruffy bangs on a small bell to signal when he wants to go out, and when Casey sees me, she drops onto her back and sticks her leg up in the air, beckoning for a belly rub. She is a tad forward, but I comply. All my dog friends are reflections of their human patrons. You can tell a lot of people by meeting their dogs.

A dog is your best friend for part of your life, but you are their best friend for their entire lives.    

I miss my daughter’s dogs, Frankie and Otis (Ella’s half-brother), who moved from DC to the West Coast a few years ago. I helped raise Otis; clearly, this grumpy, judgmental fellow spent too much time with me.

When we go to Seattle to visit my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, one of the highlights is the crazy happiness displayed when these dogs realize who we are despite living on opposite coasts. I also miss my dog pals who have passed away, like Dexter, Biddie, Dizzy, Anebel, Lizzie, and Maxie, to name a few.    

Unlike politicians, dogs do not switch parties, lie, or suddenly turn on those who love and support them. So, if you’re having a tough time at this moment in history, find a great dog to play with or come to my house, pick up Ella’s red frisbee, and toss it high and long.

Hugh Panero, a tech and media entrepreneur, was the founder and former CEO of XM Satellite Radio. He has worked with leading tech venture capital firms and was an adjunct media professor at George Washington University. He writes about Tech and Media and other stuff for the Spy.