Maybe we should treat people like dogs

IT HAPPENED again. So there I was on the Discovery Bay to Mui Wo Hiking Trail at midnight as 2026 rolled in. My brother-in-law and I had climbed the “1,000 steps” (which is actually over 1,300 exhausting steps and a few energy-sapping ramps) with the aim of watching the drone show over Hong Kong, less than 20km away.

As it turned out, from our vantage point, we couldn’t see Victoria Harbour, but we did get to watch the fireworks and an impressive drone show over Hong Kong Disneyland, which was about halfway closer, just across Discovery Bay.

I am not saying all this to boast. The fact is, thanks to some massive generosity on the part of my hosts, I was extremely fortunate to be here to witness the spectacle. However, my actions up on the top of the steep hill that night made me pause and ponder how appreciative I really was.

As the illuminated drones animated different Disney characters in the night sky, and bright, colourful fireworks popped off around the Disney Castle, I stood there looking at this incredible spectacle through my smart device’s screen.

Here I was, privileged to witness something I thought I would never see, and all I was trying to do was capture it on a 15cm by 7cm screen.

When that occurred to me, I slipped my phone into my pocket and allowed myself to “just be there”. It struck me that true appreciation comes from fully experiencing the moment in front of you.

Yes, we can wolf down a meal and chug a beverage. We can drive to our destination and hurriedly walk down the street. We are free to do that. But there is a deeper joy that comes from savouring a meal, sipping a drink and rolling it around your tongue, appreciating the drive, and patiently ambling along while taking in the atmosphere around you.

Oddly enough, beyond that New Year’s epiphany on the hill, these lessons about appreciation have been reinforced as I have been observing the dogs in and around Hong Kong.

For want of a better word, dogs here are spoiled — and I mean that in the best possible sense. They are not merely pets or sentries; they are family members. They are cleaned, served meals (not “fed”), taken on regular walks and entertained with doggy play dates.

It is not unusual to see two humans standing in awkward silence, unfamiliar with one another, while their dogs happily wag tails and spar playfully.

Here, people know the dogs’ names, but not that of their human companions. That amused me no end!

These dogs eat well, get exercise, and move through public spaces with confidence. They are friendly, relaxed, and seemingly unburdened. I am not exaggerating when I say they go about their days grinning and looking content.

Which, unfortunately, made me think of the sad, angry and frustrated faces I so often see back home. Not canine faces — human ones.

I am not comparing people to dogs, but rather the conditions under which behaviour flourishes. When living beings are treated well — when they feel safe, cared for, properly nourished and protected — their true character emerges.

I could not help wondering what South Africans might be like if we felt safe in our homes and on our streets; if we could exercise without looking over our shoulders; if we trusted that society and its institutions were looking out for us — in short, if we felt cared for, valued, and appreciated.

Seeing dogs so visibly happy because they feel safe made me yearn for our people to be — excuse the expression — treated like dogs.