by Dave Hicks

What would you say if I could ensure you dog ownership without scrubbing one sullied throw rug, without ever disposing of a gnarled pair of Ferragamos, and without late night walks in the wintertime when the temperature has just dropped to below Ice Age?

"Why, I'd call you a liar!"

But it's true. Virtually.

Enter through the dog door the creative masterminds at PF.Magic in San Francisco's "Multimedia Gulch." Since its genesis in 1991, PF.Magic's focus has been interactive entertainment software whether in the guise of electronic magic kits, 3-D games for home machines like the Super Nintendo and Sony PlayStation, or an alliance with AT&T to create software for online/networked multiplayer games. Undoubtedly, PF.Magic is one of the companies at the forefront of tantalizing interactive software submergence.

And then there was DOGZ.

Lifting a leg on what passes for real-life interactivity on your computer's desktop, DOGZ allows Mac and PC owners the opportunity to raise a besmirching pooch from puppyhood into its golden years.

Like canines of the slobber-on-your-leg, pee-in-the-azaleas variety, DOGZ begin interacting with their owners immediately (or when you double-click on the DOGZ icon, anyway).

The DOGZ adoption kit (read demo) allows cavortment with these breeds: bulldog, terrier, "scotty," setter, and chihuahua. Depending on which doghouse you click, one of these puppies goes a'scampering across the desktop, stopping centimeters from your hand (mouse pointer), giving it a tentative sniff. Move your pointer over the puppy's head and it follows, tongue lolling, tail wagging feverishly. If the puppy loses interest and wanders off you can get its attention by double-clicking the mouse button. This will provide a finger snap and a kindly whistle.

The behavior of the dog you adopt is indicative of its breed. DOGZ provides hints as to your breed's 'specialities,' and probable results of certain interactivity. For instance, the setter is exceptionally responsive to a hands-on treatment (like brushing its coat or scratching its belly), the chihuahua prone to fits of unbridled energy usually associated with atom-smashers. And these DOGZ snooze. Play with 'em for too long and they'll tire out, eventually padding off to a corner of the desktop, thrice turning before settling down for a nap.

Like this:

But not only do they sleep, DOGZ mostly do what real dogs do: eat, drink, play, chew on footware, bark, whine when ignored, get into trouble, et cetera. Some might consider it a disappointment that DOGZ neither "do their business" nor puke on the desktop. I watched for an hour after feeding mine much kibble to see if either would occur, but no. All he did was drag himself across the desktop, which made me sick anyway.

As a DOGZ owner, it is your responsibility to feed, nurture, play with, and tend to your dog much in the way one might a real-life pooch. One of the entertaining aspects of DOGZ is its unpredictability -- you really can't anticipate what yours is going to do next...and isn't that what owning a pet is all about?

Your virtual bowzer can be trained to perform some neat tricks. Try and get yours to roll over, flip in the air, or balance atop the red rubber ball. Reward your dog with a tasty bone when it does good, give it a squirt from the water bottle when it does bad (which is wholly the owner's supposition since DOGZ do not soil the desktop, run away into the Microsoft Word folder only to return muddy and stinky, or fornicate on the floppy drive). After a short time your dog will come to recognize when you're palming a treat and will beg for it. (Thank goodness it can't smell the Doritos you eat as you sit in front of the computer.)

Will DOGZ die? Good question. Naturally, there'd be nothing more heart-wrenching than little Stacie's expression when she starts DOGZ for the first time and Rover's on his back, paws up, little Xs over his eyes...

Like this:

Burials in the backyard aside, the likelihood does exist that yours will expire after some years. (Not surprisingly, PF.Magic tech support has been inundated with this inquiry and their response is a smirkly "We don't knoooow." They have divulged, however, that a happy doggie is a healthy one.)

Naturally, I don't feel like giving all the details away; you'll just have to pick up an "adoption kit" for yourself. This demo only has a few features enabled, but you're allowed to play with the puppies as long as you'd like. "Adoption" is as simple as a toll-free phone call and $19.95 on a credit card. (Hey, it'd cost you at the Humane Society too.) Or if you'd prefer you can purchase the software at a local retailer.

So what do you suppose is next off the drawing board at PF.Magic?

Meow.