Man's best therapy?

Dogs are great. Loyal, optimistic, enthusiastic and willful home security agents.

But the family dog has a silent side that only I seem to notice.

Joey has been the apple of the family's eye ever since my wife won him in a lottery at the pound when he was a wee puppy.

The pound told us he was part Sharpei and Cocker Spaniel, so I dubbed him a "Sharpaniel," to fit in with other designer pooches so much the rage these days. Labradoodles, ShihPoos, Bagles and Cavachons have nothing on him.

His coat is white with a beige spot here and there, and his head is spaniel in miniature. His body is long, with short legs, just like the author. His tail is long and curls upward like a Sharpei, wagging and making quite a scene when he wants to.

The big drawback with Joey is shedding - as in world-class shedding. We can brush him fully and an hour later one head-to-rump pet will collect a handful of thin white hair. Keeping the house hairless is quite a chore. Aside from a small fortune in vacuum cleaners, we love him dearly.

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Joey is a great soccer ball chaser in the back yard, and he dreams of sinking his teeth into a cat, several of which he sees out the front screen door, prompting him to bark, "Hey, cat, if you know what's good for ya, you'll vamoose or I'll break this door down and go all Mike Tyson on your ear!"

He has learned plenty of tricks (he can balance the ol' dog biscuit on his nose and then swoop it into his mouth, also walks backward on his hind legs a la Michael Jackson) and can unleash a verbal barrage if you ask him to "speak."

But I see his silent side. Not quite a dog whisperer, I am still convinced he is goading me every step of the way through life.

I know he's mocking me when I leave for work every day. I tell him, "Bye, Joe," and I get this look which leads me to believe he's thinking, "Sucker! Get on out there and earn me some kibble. I'll be here mooching and basking in the sun."

Without a doubt, Joey thinks he has it over "working dogs," as he lounges on his ottoman or out on the back porch all day long. "Glad those police dogs are making the world safe ... yawn, time for another nap."

When I spend half a day doing yard work, there's Joey, acting almost as a supervisor, checking up on my progress. "Hey, you're still on the back yard? Get the lead out - I may need to make a pit stop out there soon!"

I won't even begin to tell you what he's thinking during my weekly poop scooping ritual...

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Joey has also found all my wife's buttons, and has her wrapped around his paw. He's a mooch (I know, our fault for allowing it), and he is not above nosing your knee if you fail to pay attention to him while enjoying a snack.

When I lay down on the couch, sure enough he'll saunter over and slide his head under my arm, as if to tell me, "Hey, pal you're on the clock, make sure you itch under my ears and my chin properly this time!" He can be so demanding.

Also, somehow he has developed a phobia of riding in cars. We used to take him everywhere when he was young, his tail wagging eagerly if you made the slightest move toward the garage door. Now if you say, "Wanna go for a ride?", he is more prone to fly through the house and dive under our bed than sit there and make sure he heard you correctly.

But we can still pick him up and toss him into a vehicle. He's made one RV trip with us, and when he's not around, life just isn't the same for any of us.

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And that's just it. Joey has us right where he wants us. You'd think most dogs depend on their owners, but Joey has us thinking we depend on him.

And we do. We depend on him to look longingly into our eyes when we scratch his head, somehow reassuring us with his therapeutic gaze that things will turn out fine, that it's really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

We depend on him to greet us when we get back from the store or a restaurant. "Hey, what did ya bring me" is his standard look.

We've been told we need to get Joey an agent and get him some work. He has the look, but I am pretty sure the work ethic is not there.

That would interrupt his full slate of naps, moochings and making sure there's plenty of weekly ritual to pick up from the back yard.

Jerry Hitchcock is a copy editor for The Press and the proud servant of Joey the Sharpaniel. Both can be reached at 664-8176, Ext. 2017, or via email at jhitchcock@cdapress.com.