The Dog I Was Never Given

Where I grew up, dogs did not live inside houses.

Everyone lived in houses back then — there were no apartments in our neighborhood — and every house had a garden, and the dogs lived in the gardens. Most of them had their own little cottage out there, a small house of their own. They belonged to the family, but they were never allowed past the door. Not the living room, not the kitchen, and certainly not a bedroom. A dog's place was outside. That was simply how it was.

Our neighbor had a dog, and I loved that dog. He was so gentle, so kind, and I wished — the way only a child can wish — for a dog of my own. My mother said no. Animals don't belong here. And in fairness to her, we were nine brothers and sisters. Eleven of us in that house, counting my parents. There was barely room for the children, let alone a dog.

I used to say, half joking, that if there is one thing I cannot forgive my mother for, it is that she never gave me a dog.

Elvis, Bosse, Jimmy — and Toby Linero

Life has a way of circling back. Years later, as a university student, I made part of my living looking after other people's dogs. Elvis, Bosse, Jimmy — and many more; the dogs I name here are only a few of all the dogs I have cared for over the years. Each of them left a mark on me. The boy who was never allowed a dog now spent his days surrounded by them.

And then came Toby Linero.

Toby Linero is my nephew's dog — though his story began long before that, as a so-called street dog, one of the countless dogs born into the world without a home. My nephew and his girlfriend travel often, sometimes for long stretches, and during those periods Toby Linero stays with me. Over the years he has become, in every way that matters, part of my life.

I sometimes joke that there is exactly one living being on this earth who loves me without any boundaries at all — and that is Toby Linero. My wife loves me. My son loves me. My family, my friends — they all love me. But every human love has its limits somewhere. Toby Linero's does not. He loves me regardless of who I am, what I do, or what I say. It is a fantastic thing to feel, and I wish it for everyone.

What a personality psychologist sees in a dog

Somewhere between the garden dogs of my childhood and Toby Linero asleep at my feet, my life took its professional turn: I became a professor of psychology, specializing in personality psychology. I have spent my career studying how personality can be measured — properly, systematically, with instruments you can trust.

And at some point, the two threads of my life finally met.

Because here is what struck me: every dog I have ever known had a personality of their own. Elvis was not Bosse. Bosse was not Jimmy. And nobody is Toby Linero. Different characters, different temperaments, different ways of meeting the world.

Every dog owner feels this. Ask anyone about their dog and they will describe a personality in loving detail. But a feeling is where it usually stops. What we have are general impressions and conversational descriptions. What we don't have is a way to truly see — to understand our dogs with the same care and precision we bring to understanding people. That is why I am building Dogmetry.

Where the money goes

Let me be clear about one thing: Dogmetry is a company. I want it to make money, to sustain itself and to grow — and I would rather say that plainly than dress a business up as a charity.

But it is a company with a promise built in. At least 20% of Dogmetry's revenue is committed, from the start, to two causes in equal parts. Half goes to research on dogs and the dog–human relationship, so that our understanding of these companions keeps growing. The other half goes to organizations that care for dogs: shelters, rescues, the people who take in street dogs and give them a chance — dogs like Toby Linero once was.

The idea is simple: money that comes from dogs should also go back to dogs.

The boy in the garden

I never did get that dog. The gardens of my childhood are far away now, and the world has changed — the dogs have long since come indoors, onto our sofas and into our families.

Dogmetry is my way of finishing that story: helping people truly understand the dogs who love us without any boundaries at all.