What It’s Like to Be the Spare Human
There’s an unspoken tradition in our house that kicks in the second a new foster dog walks through the door: we place informal bets on who the dog will choose as their person.
It’s not done with spreadsheets or scoreboards — though honestly, it probably could be — but we all know how it works. Within the first 48 hours, the new dog will usually gravitate toward someone. They’ll pick their human. And nine times out of ten?
It’s not me.
Welcome to the bittersweet world of being the spare human.
A Mouldy Chocolate Bar and a Belly Rub
It’s not that the dog hates me. I know that. I feed them. I walk them. I talk to them in a ridiculous voice. I make sure they have everything they need and more. But when it comes to affection, loyalty, or even basic acknowledgement of my existence?
Nah. They’ve chosen someone else. Usually, Liv.
I’ll call their name — nothing. Liv so much as breathes in their direction — tail wag, instant attention, emotional sonnet of devotion. Take Sophie, our very first foster. That dog would have traded me in for a mouldy chocolate bar and a half-hearted belly rub if it came from Liv. Didn’t matter that I was doing the donkey work. I was background noise. A useful ghost.
I’d sit on the sofa? She’d sit closer to Liv. I’d offer her a toy? I’d get the side eye. The polite-but-firm “I see you’re here, but I have other engagements” glance.
Classic spare human energy.
The Ones Who Chose Me
Now, it’s not always like that. Some dogs have looked at me with that big, love-soaked gaze and decided I was it. Binky the pom did. She was this tiny, ridiculous bundle of floof from a hoarding situation, and she stuck to me like Velcro. Penny the beagle was the same — calm, gentle, snuggly — absolutely a “my human is my safe place” dog. And Lilley… well, Lilley was my soul dog. I still think about her daily.
With those dogs, I didn’t just feel seen. I felt chosen. I was the lap. I was the person they scanned the room for. I was the reason they sighed in contentment. And as any spare human will tell you — those moments make up for all the ones when you’re completely blanked.
Signs You’ve Been Spare Human’d
In case you’re wondering whether you, too, have been appointed as the secondary character in your own dog’s drama, here are a few dead giveaways:
- You do the walks. They celebrate someone else’s return like a national holiday.
- You dish up dinner. They thank someone else by staring longingly into their soul.
- You speak? They blink. Maybe. If they’re not busy.
- You ask them to come. They look at your chosen family member for confirmation first.
It’s not malicious. It’s just… not you.
It’s Not You (But It Is a Bit)
Look, dogs are dogs. They bond how they bond. Sometimes it’s a scent thing. Sometimes it’s an energy thing. Sometimes they decide in the first five minutes and that’s that. And if you’ve been picked, it feels like magic. You’re the chosen one. Every look they give you feels like a love letter.
But if you’re the spare human? It can feel a bit like showing up to a party you weren’t invited to — and still ending up doing the washing up.
And the kicker? You can’t be mad about it. Because you love the dog. Of course you do. That’s why you’re getting up at 6am and standing in the garden in the rain. That’s why you’ve memorised their biscuit preferences. That’s why you let them take over your side of the bed and sleep like a question mark all night.
We Do It Anyway
Because even if they don’t choose us, we’ve already chosen them.
So here’s to the spare humans. The unsung heroes of dog households. The ones holding the lead, picking up the poo, topping up the water bowl… and getting precisely zero credit for it.
You are seen. You are appreciated. Maybe not by the dog, but definitely by me — another fully certified, repeatedly spare human’d human.
And maybe, just maybe, the next dog will pick you.
(But probably not.)
