I am worried about my young mistress, Emma, who used to take me on a walk every night after school. It became steadily less regular and now she heads straight to her phone and doesn’t look up until tea time — then, after she’s done the dishes, she’s back on it again. I miss her, and my walks. What should I do to get her back?
Ruby
Rushworth
Dear Ruby,
Let me tell you about The Scroll. You ask why Emma doesn't take you walking any more? Why she sits on the couch making that weird thumb motion while staring at the glowing rectangle?
The humans have discovered something more exciting than walks, more addictive than throwing sticks in the river to fetch, more hypnotic than watching the bee-eaters hawk insects and more comforting than sitting with a loyal hound to watch the sun go down.
It’s called infinite content — the more short videos she looks at, the more the algorithm fires at her to keep her watching.
Queenie, my mum, used to tell me that once upon a time, humans could get bored. And when humans got bored, they remembered we existed. They’d look around the room and there we’d be, wagging hopefully, and they’d think: “What better than a wander in the warm spring sun with my dog!”
But now? The humans have eliminated boredom entirely. Every spare second is spent on The Scroll. Their new joy is TikTok, with an endless parade of people doing weird things like eating the hottest chilli, sticking false vampire teeth on with superglue or licking ice cream in the supermarket and putting the tub back on the shelf.
It’s like someone invented a ball that threw itself, except the ball is changing shape with beautiful colours and mesmerising them because it never stops bouncing. They simply can’t stop watching.
On Instagram and Snapchat, they watch friends — or people they don’t know — having exotic holidays or eating out: they are so busy watching other humans live life that they forget to live their own.
But Ruby, this is our greatest opportunity since the invention of the dining table because they remain in one place. They don’t move.
First, learn the Guilt Approach. Position yourself directly in their line of sight while they scroll. Make your eyes big and round. Add a small, sad sigh. Eventually their tiny human brain will register your presence and they’ll feel terrible.
Second, master the Strategic Nudge. When they’re deep in The Scroll, gently place your snout under their phone hand. You’d be amazed how many humans will absent-mindedly pet you while scrolling. It’s like they’re on autopilot. I’ve gotten 15-minute ear scratches from The Boss while he watched a fishing video. He never even looked at me. Perfect.
Third — and this is advanced — learn to interrupt at peak frustration. When you hear them mumble about “buffering” or “wi-fi’s down”, that’s your moment. Bring a ball or a stick. They’re already annoyed at technology; they’ll be thrilled to remember simpler pleasures. Like taking you for a walk.
The humans are amusing themselves to death. But we dogs? We’re positioned perfectly to benefit from their guilt, distraction and occasional moments of self-awareness. Eventually they’ll realise they’re being manipulated into a zombie zone by a handful of very rich people who are laughing all the way to their Mediterranean yachts.
So don’t despair, Ruby. Adapt. The ball-throwing days aren’t over — they’re just... on hold, until good sense takes over. Woof!
The General
15°C