Yesterday, my dog taught my son how to pop bubble wrap.

My son was sad, because a package had come and that package wasn’t for him. He wasn’t expecting a present, nor was there anything he needed. He just wanted a certain excitement, and was let down. Now Thor, in response, didn’t chide him for being silly; he didn’t tell Jackson (certainly not directly but also not indirectly) “there’s no good reason to cry.” He didn’t abandon him to cry alone. Instead he pulled a sheet of bubble wrap from the box and placed it on the floor. Then he stepped on a bubble, and popped it. Then he nosed at my son, indicating that it was his turn. Soon they were happily popping bubbles together.

We love dogs because they have something that we, as humans, tend to lack. That one thing, which makes all the difference. Empathy. For every person who wants to judge the worth of your words, the validity of your emotions, or who wants to rail at you for having had the temerity to upset them, there’s a dog who just wants to hug. Who knows that it’s not about being right but being good; who offers of themselves purely, and without resentment. Dogs give, because they want to.

We live in a world where being right has long ago eclipsed being kind. Where vindication feels good–sometimes too good. And where it’s the easiest thing in the world to dismiss someone’s pain, someone’s very existence, from your mind. Relationships, for the most part, are disposable. Don’t like someone? Subtweet them! Why take the high road, when you can get high on being the superior person? I’ve been known to make the point that bullying is still such a problem in this world, because ten out of ten bullies, when confronted, disagree that they’re bullies. “You hurt my feelings,” for far too many of us, means nothing; the specter of “I might’ve conceivably done something wrong” is easily wiped away with a blanket “you’re wrong.”

If someone’s feelings are hurt, well, that’s their fault. They shouldn’t be so sensitive! They should–they should what, exactly? Conform, I suppose. Not say, or do anything, which in any way challenges anyone else. The sad truth, though, is that one person’s dismissal–“I didn’t hurt your feelings, because I said I didn’t and if I did, well, your feelings were stupid to begin with”–doesn’t a situation fix. Nor a heart mend. The request for empathy often results in such toxicity, maybe, because it shines a light on this problem. “You refuse to see me, and yet I exist.”

Indifference can be crippling. So is being denied that most basic right: acceptance. “I do not know, so I will not try to own, your pain.” This is the difference between walking out of the room when someone is crying and teaching them to pop bubble wrap. My dog understands how to be a friend; I think I, we all, should take a lesson from him.