There’s something magical about watching my dogs operate as a pack. Not magical in the Disney-princess-singing-to-birds kind of way. It’s more like the “oh dear lord, the neighbors think we’ve lost it” kind of way.

It usually starts with the middle one. He’s the ringleader. The union boss. The Hunger Games tribute with a growl. When his stomach clock goes off, he starts the routine: the little nips at the air, the delicate clink of his tags, the low, slow growl that’s less “ferocious wolf” and more “hangry toddler.” He’s ridiculously cute about it. Which is how he gets away with murder.

And then, like clockwork, the others join in. The big one lumbers over, adding his bass notes. The small one contributes shrill enthusiasm. Before I know it, I’ve got a canine chorus lobbying for dinner with the same level of coordination as a political campaign rally.

The same thing happens when a groundhog dares step foot in our yard. Even if only one dog spots it, all three leap into DEFCON 1 barking. The others might not even see the groundhog. For all they know, it could be a squirrel, a plastic bag, or a figment of their packmate’s imagination. Doesn’t matter. They’re all in. Support is unconditional.

And I love that. Sure, it’s chaos. Sure, it’s loud. And yes, I occasionally fantasize about noise-canceling my entire life. But it’s also pure loyalty. They have each other’s backs. Always.

It makes me wonder do we humans still do that? We’ve gotten so busy fact-checking, side-eyeing, and “let me play devil’s advocate”-ing that we’ve lost the art of just showing up for someone without knowing every single detail. Dogs don’t wait for the case file; they don’t demand context. They hear their buddy barking, and they join in.

Maybe the world would be a little warmer if we operated with more “pack logic.” Bark first, ask questions later. Stand beside your people even if you’re not entirely sure what you’re standing for. At worst, you’re loud and wrong. At best, you’re loyal and right.

Meanwhile, I’ll be over here, trapped under a pile of barking, hungry furballs half laughing, half losing my mind, and entirely in love.