This insight comes courtesy of Professor Kikusui Takefumi of Azabu University, who’s just proved that living with something resembling me doesn’t just cheer teenagers up — we actually tone up what’s going on in their guts. Seriously.
The professor says humans are full of microbes — trillions of the little blighters — and some of them have a direct line to your brain. When teenagers share a home (and probably the occasional dropped sausage) with a dog, their microbes get a turbo boost. Fewer nasty ones, more social ones.
The whole system ends up running smoother, like a well‑licked barbecue. Result: less brooding, fewer slammed doors, and far fewer incoherent grunts rumbling through the house.
The professor tested this on 343 teenagers in Tokyo. Those with dogs were calmer, less aggressive and not skulking around looking for trouble or behaving like a possum in a garbage bin. The reason? Their microbes had more of the friendly types — with charming names like Streptococcus and Prevotella — that apparently encourage kindness. Who knew we dogs were upgrading your social software from the inside?
Sadly, Kikusui couldn’t build sufficient scale on his findings by funnelling dog microbes into other people’s teenagers (it was frowned upon by ethics committees and parents), so he tried it on mice. The results were compelling. Mice who got the “dog‑teen” microbes were sniffing new friends twice as long, and checking on distressed cage‑mates like furry therapists. Meanwhile, the microbe‑poor mice were about as friendly as a city parking inspector at the end of free January.
The moral? Happiness comes less from mind-numbing scrolling and more from a nuzzle and a bit of dog breath.
I’ve been running the emotional support unit of this household for nearly 12 years now. Apart from maintaining The Boss as a functioning senior, I’ve seen every teenage drama — heartbreaks, school stress, existential dread brought on by too much TikTok — and handled them all using a proven technique: sit close, look slightly concerned and whimper quietly until they start patting me. Works every time. You can call it empathy, or you can call it microbial exchange. I call it being me.
So there you go. If you want a teenager who’s kinder, calmer and less gloomy than the ABC nightly news, the answer isn’t another lecture — it’s a dog. We’re cheaper, smell better than most counsellors and we’ll drag your kid outside whether they like it or not. Before long, they’ll be smiling at strangers, swapping Snapchat for belly rubs and maybe even cleaning their room. (I’m joking.)
Humans forget we’ve been doing this for over 20,000 years. First, we helped them chase dinner across the tundra; now we help them chase their family sanity through Year 12. We’re evolution’s long‑term service contract and, it’s fair to say, we’re earning our keep.
As for the teenagers, remember this: you might chuck a ball for us now and then, but it turns out we’re quietly re‑engineering your insides — for your own good. And you’re welcome. Woof!
