"Can I Pet Your Dog?"

I get asked all the time by strangers, something to the effect of “Can I pet your dog?”. People see her, think she’s cute, and feel a sudden strong urge to touch her. Some people will just reach out without asking, but the majority of people ask first.

I don’t object, but I’m not sure my dog always enjoys it when people put their hands on her, or in her face.

Shiba Inus are notorious for being—among other things—quite aloof at times. Sometimes when people go to pet or greet her, they expect her to behave similar to other dogs and reciprocate their excitement. However, in most cases, she doesn’t care. Oftentimes she hardly acknowledges the person exists.

Some people have taken this as a personal slight against them. I try to warn people before petting her that there’s a possibility she won’t care.

Instant Gratification #

We live in an age of instant gratification. You can buy just about anything from Amazon and it will arrive in 1-2 days. You can order food from nearly any restaurant and it’ll show up at your door within an hour. You can get a chauffer to pick you up wherever you are whenever you want and drive you anywhere. Post a photo on Instagram and random strangers will give you praise without knowing who you are.

People seem to be conditioned now to expect that instant gratification everywhere, and when they don’t get it there’s a sort of cognitive dissonance between the expected gratification and what actually happens.

The Psychology Behind the Pet #

I’ve come to see these dog-petting interactions as a microcosm of our larger relationship with technology and convenience. When someone approaches my Shiba, they’re often seeking a quick dopamine hit—that moment of connection and joy that comes from petting a cute animal. It’s not unlike opening Instagram and scrolling for likes or checking email for that validation we crave.

What fascinates me is the reaction when that expected hit doesn’t come. My Shiba, in her aloof independence, inadvertently becomes a pattern-breaker. She doesn’t conform to the expected script, and that momentary disruption can be jarring for people accustomed to getting what they want when they want it.

This isn’t to say there’s anything wrong with wanting to pet a cute dog—it’s one of life’s simple pleasures. But I do wonder if these small moments of denied expectation might actually be valuable in a world where so many of our desires are instantly satisfied.

Finding Balance in a Fast-Paced World #

I think there’s something to be learned from my Shiba’s indifference. She doesn’t perform emotion or connection for the benefit of others. She engages when she genuinely wants to engage. There’s an authenticity there that feels increasingly rare.

Many of our digital tools promise connection but deliver something that often feels hollow. A text message isn’t the same as a conversation. A like isn’t the same as appreciation. The convenience of modern life is wonderful in many ways, but it can also create a false sense that meaningful experiences should be as instantly available as everything else.

But What Does It Mean? #

I don’t know what it all means, I just find the phenomenon interesting. Life is easier now than it’s ever been for most people, and yet if you read the news you’d think the world is near collapse (by the way, I suggest not reading the news unless you want your brain to rot).

We’re not at war, there’s plenty of food to go around, there’s more wealth than ever before (albeit it’s not well distributed), and yet many people are lonely and unhappy. A hot subject today is the “loneliness epidemic”, although whether it’s actually an epidemic (a rapidly spreading infectious disease) or just the journalist topic du jour remains to be seen.

One suggestion I have for those people: get a dog, take walks, create things, have conversations with people offline, and spend more time outside with your face not glued to your phone.

The Lesson from an Aloof Shiba #

Perhaps the most valuable lesson my Shiba offers to strangers isn’t the fleeting joy of petting her (when she allows it), but rather the small reminder that not everything in life responds to our immediate desires. Some things—whether they’re relationships, skills, or experiences—require patience, respect for boundaries, and an acceptance that gratification isn’t always instant.

When people who genuinely love dogs take the time to approach her properly—getting down to her level, letting her come to them, not making sudden movements—she’s much more likely to engage. It’s a small but meaningful example of how slowing down and respecting another being’s autonomy can lead to more authentic connection.

In a world increasingly designed around immediacy, maybe the occasional rejection from a disinterested Shiba Inu is exactly the kind of small reality check we need. A gentle reminder that the best things in life—deep friendships, mastery of skills, genuine connection with animals and nature—still require time, patience, and an acceptance that not everything is available on demand.

So yes, you can pet my dog. Just don’t expect her to perform gratitude for the privilege. And in that small moment of potential disappointment, there might be something more valuable than the pet itself—a tiny invitation to reconsider our relationship with convenience, expectation, and the increasingly rare art of waiting for something worthwhile.