There are certain traditions among men that don’t require much explanation.
Poker night.
A round of golf.
Fishing trips.
Road trips that somehow take considerably longer than Google Maps suggested.
Saturday afternoons spent standing around an open car hood while nobody actually fixes anything.
And weekends away where everyone returns home exhausted despite accomplishing remarkably little.
Dogs, presumably, would understand all of this.
After all, dogs already have many of the necessary qualifications.
They enjoy riding in cars.
They like being outside.
They’ll happily spend six hours beside a lake.
They become irrationally excited when somebody starts a barbecue.
And they’re perfectly capable of sitting around with the same group of friends doing absolutely nothing.
So what would happen if dogs started organizing their own guys’ weekends?
We have a few ideas.
Poker Night
Some traditions are simply too important to mess with.
The table is green felt.
The lights are low.
The cards have been dealt.
And six dogs who have known each other for years are sitting around the table pretending they have absolutely no idea what everyone else is holding.
The Labrador has been aggressively raising all evening.
The Bulldog hasn’t changed expression in twenty minutes.
Nobody can tell whether that’s an extraordinary poker face or whether he’s falling asleep.
The Jack Russell has gone all in three times.
The German Shepherd is calculating something.
The Great Dane can see everybody’s cards from where he’s sitting, which feels like a fairly significant design flaw.
And the Golden Retriever?
He’s just happy to have been invited.
There are chips scattered across the felt and enough snacks nearby to guarantee that somebody will eventually forget about the game entirely.
Dogs have been playing poker in art for more than a century.
Apparently the game is still going.
Game Night
There is football on television.
Or hockey.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter.
The important thing is that there’s a huge television, an enormous sectional and absolutely nowhere left for a human to sit.
The boys arrived early.
Pizza was ordered.
Someone brought snacks.
And five minutes into the game, everybody had already chosen a side despite none of them understanding the rules.
The German Shepherd watches every play.
The Bulldog has fallen asleep before halftime.
The Jack Russell loses his mind whenever the crowd on television starts cheering.
The Labrador is considerably more interested in the pizza.
And the Great Dane has positioned himself directly in front of the television.
Nobody has the courage to ask him to move.
The Road Trip
Nobody really remembers who suggested the trip.
Someone mentioned getting away for the weekend.
Someone else apparently had access to a vehicle.
And suddenly four dogs are heading west with luggage in the back and absolutely no itinerary.
The Labrador has his head out the window before they’ve left the neighbourhood.
The Jack Russell has moved between seats fourteen times.
The German Shepherd would like everyone to know they missed the exit twenty kilometres ago.
Nobody cares.
There’s music playing.
The mountains are getting closer.
The windows are down.
They’ll figure out where they’re staying when they get there.
Probably.
Pool Hall
Every group has one friend who claims he’s really good at pool.
Nobody has ever actually seen evidence of this.
That doesn’t stop him from explaining every shot.
The billiards room is old-school and beautiful.
Dark wood.
Green felt.
Pendant lights hanging low over the tables.
The boys gather around watching the game with the seriousness normally reserved for international competition.
The Labrador keeps looking underneath the table for the balls.
The Great Dane has discovered that his chin rests perfectly on the rail.
The Bulldog has claimed a leather chair in the corner.
And the Jack Russell is absolutely convinced that anything rolling across a floor belongs to him.
This may prove problematic.
Golf Day
The tee time was 9:10.
Everyone arrived at 9:08.
Nobody warmed up.
This will become important later.
The course is beautiful.
The weather is perfect.
The cart is loaded.
For approximately three holes, everybody takes the game seriously.
Then the Labrador discovers a pond.
The Jack Russell disappears into the rough looking for a ball nobody particularly cared about finding.
The Bulldog decides walking eighteen holes was a ridiculous suggestion from the beginning and refuses to leave the cart.
The Golden Retriever keeps returning balls that weren’t theirs.
By the back nine, nobody is keeping score.
Which, coincidentally, is when everyone starts playing much better.
Hunting Weekend
Some of the boys have been waiting all year for this one.
The lodge sits at the edge of a huge stretch of countryside.
Boots are lined up by the door.
Jackets hang from hooks.
Outside, early morning mist hangs over the fields.
And for once, the dogs aren’t pretending to understand what they’re doing.
Pointers point.
Retrievers retrieve.
Setters work the field.
Labradors suddenly become considerably more competent than the rest of the group remembers them being.
These dogs were built for days like this.
The guys who spent poker night bluffing badly and golf day losing balls have become serious working dogs.
At least until they get back to the lodge.
Then someone drops a piece of sausage on the floor and professionalism ends immediately.
The Fishing Trip
There are two types of fishing trips.
Trips where you catch fish.
And trips where you sit on a beautiful lake for eight hours with your friends and occasionally remember there are fishing rods on board.
The boys strongly prefer the second kind.
The lake is glassy.
The mountains reflect across the water.
The boat drifts quietly into a secluded bay.
For several glorious minutes, nobody makes a sound.
Then the Labrador sees something in the water.
Nobody else sees it.
That doesn’t matter.
He has decided it requires immediate investigation.
The others watch him lean farther and farther over the side.
Everyone knows exactly what’s about to happen.
Nobody stops him.
Garage Day
The car was supposedly making a noise.
That’s how this started.
The hood went up at 10:00 Saturday morning.
By noon, four dogs were standing around it.
Tools had been removed from a toolbox.
Several parts had been examined.
Nothing had actually been repaired.
The German Shepherd keeps staring into the engine bay as though a diagnosis is imminent.
The Labrador periodically checks underneath the car.
The Bulldog has found a comfortable spot beside the workbench and contributed nothing.
The Jack Russell disappeared with a shop rag forty minutes ago.
Nobody knows where he went.
At some point somebody will suggest taking the car to a mechanic.
This suggestion will be ignored.
They can fix it.
They just need another Saturday.
BBQ With the Boys
This may be the best-attended event of the weekend.
Nobody needs reminding.
Nobody arrives late.
Nobody asks what time dinner is.
Because the second meat hits a hot grill, every dog within fifty metres understands exactly what is happening.
The backyard is perfect.
Late afternoon sun.
A big table.
Comfortable chairs.
Music playing quietly.
And several dogs positioned around the barbecue with the tactical precision of a military operation.
The Labrador covers the left.
The German Shepherd watches from the right.
The Bulldog guards the route between the grill and the table.
The Jack Russell handles anything that hits the ground.
The Great Dane has discovered that height provides certain advantages.
The steaks aren’t ready.
The boys are.
Camping Weekend
There was a perfectly comfortable house available.
Naturally, everyone decided sleeping outside would be more fun.
The truck is parked beside the campsite.
Tents are up.
Mostly.
A fire crackles beside the lake as evening settles over the trees.
The boys have spent the day swimming, hiking, exploring and investigating things that absolutely did not require investigation.
Now, finally, they’re tired.
The Labrador lies closest to the water.
The German Shepherd watches the woods.
The Golden Retriever has claimed the best chair despite having contributed nothing to setting up camp.
The Jack Russell is staring into the darkness because something moved approximately three kilometres away.
Nobody else heard it.
Apparently nobody will be sleeping yet.
Boat Day
Owning a boat makes very little financial sense.
This has never stopped anyone from wanting one.
The boys understand.
The weather is perfect.
The lake is wide open.
The boat is considerably faster than it needs to be.
And somewhere near the bow is a Labrador experiencing what may be the greatest day of his entire life.
Ears flying.
Tongue out.
Wind in his face.
Behind him, the rest of the boys have settled into their preferred positions.
The Great Dane requires approximately two seats.
The Bulldog has found the shade.
The Golden Retriever keeps watching the wake.
Nobody has anywhere particularly important to go.
So they keep going.
The Morning After
Eventually, every guys’ weekend reaches this point.
The house is quiet.
Morning sunlight comes through the windows.
There are poker chips still sitting on the table.
An abandoned pizza box remains from last night’s game.
Golf shoes are beside the door.
A cooler hasn’t quite made it back to the truck.
And everywhere you look, there are dogs.
One stretched across the sofa.
Another upside down in a chair.
The Great Dane is occupying an amount of floor space previously believed impossible.
The Bulldog hasn’t moved since sometime around midnight.
The Jack Russell, finally, has stopped.
It was a hell of a weekend.
Then you notice the Labrador.
He’s sitting beside the front door.
Tail wagging.
Completely rested.
Apparently he’s ready to go again.
Of course he is.
Every Dog Needs the Boys
Maybe dogs wouldn’t play poker.
They probably wouldn’t care about golf.
And allowing them to organize a road trip without human supervision seems like an objectively terrible idea.
But the part underneath all of this isn’t particularly ridiculous.
Dogs are social.
They have friends.
They have favourite activities.
They recognize the dogs they enjoy spending time with, and many become visibly excited when those friends appear.
So perhaps we’ve gotten only one thing wrong.
The poker tables, golf carts and classic cars may be ours.
But spending a weekend doing stupid things with your best friends?
Dogs figured that part out a long time ago.
