There is a kind of strange phenomenon, an everyday mystery that repeats itself more often than one would think: we remember dogs better than their owners. It’s not intentional, it’s not that we want to forget human faces while our memories hold fondly every detail of a furry snout or a wagging tail. It’s just something that happens. And it’s happened to me so many times that I’ve stopped fighting it.
Working in a lodging facility means seeing dozens, even hundreds of people pass by every month. Men, women, couples, families. They all arrive, check in, ask for recommendations on where to eat or what to see in the surrounding area, drop off their bags, settle in, and then disappear, fading into a vague collective memory of “people who stopped by.” But if they bring a dog… ah, that’s another story.
The check-in that leaves no trace (but the dog does)
A few days ago, I received a couple. Nothing out of the ordinary. The scene was like any other: they arrived with their bags, smiled, asked a few questions about the room and received the keys. Their names? I don’t remember. I couldn’t even describe their faces with certainty. What I do remember, however, is that they brought a dog named Rocky. A medium-sized dog with shiny fur and an infectious energy. When he came into the reception area, he explored curiously, sniffed my shoe and looked at me with those eyes full of anticipation and joy. I laughed and patted his head. I don’t know how long the check-in lasted, maybe five minutes, maybe ten, but when they left, I was left with only one certainty: Rocky was a great dog.
Meeting in the village
Hours later, I went out into town to run some errands. I was walking fast, engrossed in my own thoughts, when suddenly I saw a dog wagging its tail. Automatically, my brain set off all the alarms: Rocky! I stopped and smiled. Yes, it was him. His gait was unmistakable, his expression of happiness, unalterable. Without hesitation, I went over to greet him. Rocky responded with overflowing enthusiasm, jumping slightly and wagging his tail energetically. Then I heard a human voice:
-Hello!
I turned around and saw two people smiling. Mistake. I had no idea who they were.
My mind made a desperate effort to locate them somewhere in my memory. Nothing. Just the uncomfortable feeling of having seen them before, but without context or details. Like when you find a piece of a puzzle, but you can’t remember which box it belongs to. I stared at it, trying to buy time. Finally, the man spoke:
-You checked us in a few hours ago.
Everything fell into place. Rocky’s owners. Sure, now it made sense. I laughed a little, slightly embarrassed that I had remembered the dog before them.
-Of course,” I said enthusiastically, trying to make my reaction seem natural. Then I turned to Rocky and asked, “So, how’s the room? Are you comfortable?
The owners laughed, and the tension dissipated. They knew exactly what had happened. It wasn’t the first time someone had remembered their dog before them. It would not be the last.
It is not the first time (nor the last).
And this is not something isolated. It has happened to me countless times. Like the time a client stayed with his Labrador named Duna. Duna was a beautiful dog, with sweet eyes and golden fur. She stayed for several days, and every time he saw her at the reception, he greeted her with the excitement of meeting an old friend. When the owners left, I forgot them in a matter of minutes. But Duna remained engraved in my memory.
A few weeks later, walking through a supermarket, I saw an identical dog. Without a second thought, I exclaimed:
-Duna!
The dog turned and looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and recognition. I smiled, delighted to meet my old friend. Then I noticed two people watching me with a surprised expression.
-Hello…” they said with a tone of uncertainty.
I looked at them, puzzled. Who were they? I tried hard to remember, but nothing. Absolutely nothing. As if I had never seen them in my life.
-Excuse me, but… do we know each other? -I asked honestly.
The woman laughed and the man shook his head in amusement.
-We don’t know, but you seem to remember our dog well. We stayed with you two weeks ago.
Once again, history repeated itself. Duna: yes. Humans: no.
I excused myself with a nervous laugh and we continued our conversation, but the pattern was clear: it wasn’t that the humans were irrelevant, it was that the dogs had a much more marked presence.
The dog as the protagonist of memory
What is it about dogs that makes them more memorable than their owners? Maybe it’s their energy, their authenticity, the fact that they don’t pretend or try to pretend anything. A human can arrive at the check-in tired, serious or with a thousand worries on his mind. Dogs, on the other hand, enter with the curiosity of someone exploring a new world, with the excitement of someone who doesn’t need reasons to be happy.
It is such a common phenomenon that I have come to normalize it. I’ve met Max, a French bulldog who snored even when awake. Luna, a husky with dazzling eyes who seemed to have her own language. Thor, an overweight pug who demanded petting with absolute authority. All of them have remained in my memory, while their owners… well, let’s just say that if I come across them without the dog, I hardly recognize them.
Final reflection
This curious phenomenon tells us something interesting about the way we remember. Dogs are not only easier to identify because they are fewer in number than people; also because their scent leaves a mark. They do not have the coldness of superficial interactions, nor the social filters that often distance us from others. They are beings who live in the present, who transmit sincere energy, who generate emotions without effort.
Humans, on the other hand, tend to be more gray in routine. We say “good morning” automatically, we do check-ins with no real connection, we move through life thinking about what’s next, rather than being fully in the now. Maybe that’s why dogs stick in our memory more easily: because they are always present in the moment, while we are too busy in the past or in the future.
So the next time I meet a dog, I’ll greet it with the same excitement as always. And if their owners look at me with a “what about us?” look on their faces, at least I’ll be able to respond honestly:
-There is something special about your dog.
And it won’t be a lie. Because all dogs have it.
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!
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