Dogs are pretty social for the most part. If they smell traces of another dog on you they become quite enamored pretty quickly. You run with their kind and that must be alright. I also suspect that when they are sniffing around for a place to shit, they are looking for scents of other dogs that have done business there before, so as to be certain they are shitting in the right place and won't be scolded by the master. Just a guess. There's probably literature on the behavior but I haven't seen it myself.
Many of them develop pretty co-dependent relationships with their masters, as if the territory circumscribed by house and yard is a sort of nation onto itself, and that even members of their own species are highly suspect if trespassing on said territory. I've always found it strange that such a pampered, safe and comfortable animal finds the need to viciously protect its shelter from the most innocuous of potential threats. Must be an instinctual carry-over that must express itself in such an alien environment.
Master. Heh, these ape-gods we must be to them. These hulking creatures that magically produce their food, water and shelter, as well as bless them with all sorts of affection and prestige. It must be strange to be a dog, placing the extent of its trust in this towering creature that could easily destroy it. Of course there are breeds tough enough to reverse the balance of power physically. I'm thinking of something like a Pit Bull. But there are plenty of other breeds that remain relatively docile.
It is sort of an authoritarian relationship. Not that the dogs care. I try to reverse the power relations a little. I spoil the dogs and attempt to listen to them and demonstrate an increased sensitivity to their wishes. Gets me in trouble.
