My favorite type of pet has always been a dog. They're loyal

The musician Brendon Urie, in words both tender and humorous, once declared: “My favorite type of pet has always been a dog. They're loyal, kind, and offer endless affection. My friend Eric says, ‘The more people I meet, the more I like my dog.’ Funny thought.” Though wrapped in lightness, these words bear the weight of deep wisdom. They speak of loyalty, kindness, and the ancient bond between humankind and the dog, a bond that has endured longer than empires and dynasties. For in the faithfulness of a dog, men and women have seen a reflection of what is most noble, most enduring, and most lacking in themselves.

When Urie praises the loyalty of dogs, he touches upon one of the oldest truths known to human beings. For thousands of years, from the days when hunters roamed the plains, the dog has stood as companion and protector. Kings have been betrayed, kingdoms have fallen, but dogs have remained steadfast. Unlike people, whose love often falters when tested, a dog’s loyalty endures through hunger, hardship, and even death. To cherish a dog, therefore, is not merely to keep an animal, but to keep alive a living symbol of fidelity.

The mention of their kindness and endless affection brings us to another ancient truth: that the dog does not measure worth by wealth, rank, or appearance. The poorest beggar receives the same wagging tail as the king. In their affection, dogs remind us of what love should be—unconditional, freely given, unclouded by calculation. In their eyes, we are not judged for our failures, but accepted as we are. This is why so many weary souls, disillusioned by the betrayals of men, find comfort in the companionship of a faithful hound.

Consider the tale of Argos, the dog of Odysseus. For twenty years he waited for his master’s return, neglected and near death, yet when Odysseus finally came home, disguised and unknown to all, Argos recognized him instantly. He wagged his tail one final time before dying, his duty fulfilled. What man could match such devotion? Here the ancient poets teach what Urie echoes in jest: sometimes the love of animals surpasses that of human beings.

The words of Urie’s friend Eric, saying, “The more people I meet, the more I like my dog,” are framed in humor but sharpened by truth. For human beings, though capable of greatness, are also fraught with envy, deceit, and cruelty. In contrast, the dog lives without pretense. It does not flatter for gain, nor plot for power, nor abandon in times of need. In the comparison, many find themselves disheartened with mankind, yet uplifted by the simple, honest affection of their dogs. Such humor masks a sorrowful observation: that people often fail where animals excel.

The origin of this sentiment lies in the long history of human disillusionment. Time and again, friendships have been broken, leaders have betrayed, and love has turned cold. Yet amidst this, the figure of the dog stands like a constant beacon. Across cultures—Egyptian tombs adorned with hounds, Chinese guardians carved in stone, European kings buried with their faithful companions—dogs have been exalted as more than animals, as partners in the great journey of life. Urie’s words, though modern and playful, belong to this ancient chorus of praise.

The lesson is clear: cherish the loyalty and affection of the humble dog, but also let it be a mirror for your own heart. If a creature without reason can embody such faithfulness, should not humanity strive for the same? Let us learn from their example to be steadfast in friendship, kind without condition, and generous in love. Instead of lamenting that people fall short of dogs, let us rise to meet the standard they set.

Practical action flows easily from this wisdom. Care for the dogs and creatures entrusted to you, not only with food but with love. Honor their loyalty by being loyal yourself—to your family, your friends, your promises. And when you see betrayal or cruelty among humankind, remember that the remedy is not despair but to embody the virtues you admire in your faithful companion. For in doing so, you not only honor your dog, but you also uplift humanity itself.

Thus, Urie’s lighthearted words become a teaching for generations: Dogs are loyal, kind, and affectionate—and in their reflection, we see the virtues we must cultivate within ourselves. Would you like me to reshape this into a warm, storytelling rhythm, so it feels like an elder sharing wisdom about dogs and loyalty by a fireside?