Next week, wildlife photographer Art Wolfe releases a compilation of his favorite dog photos from around the world. With and introduction captions and intros by noted dog-book author Jeffrey Masson, Dogs Make Us Human ($30, Bloomsbury) illustrates the universal bond between humans and dogs.

“Our relationship with dogs is the single most important symbiotic relationship between humans and another species on the planet,” writes Masson in his introduction, “the most delightful and in many ways still the most mysterious.”

Wolfe’s photos span the globe. Dogs Make Us Human introduces readers to Kelpies herding sheep in New Zealand, sled dogs pulling sleds in the northern Cascades, and Yorkies in cute outfits. Put it on your coffee table.

About 15 years ago a dear friend of mine was studying Buddhism. He happened to be around when my then foster-dog trotted out of the bathroom, holding a very chewed toilet-scrubber between his happy lips, taunting me with dips and play-bows to ‘come-n-get-it.’ I lunged for it, and my happy foster ran away, scrubber joyfully bobbing as he ran to and fro between closets, kitchen, living-room, laundry-room and bedroom. Of course the scrubber ended up in the bed–on my pillow.

“Gross!” I cried. “That’s just too gross for words! He has toys, why does he want to play with a toilet-scrubber! I mean, DisGusTing!”

My serious Buddhist friend said, with the kind of seriousness only a religious student can pull-off, ” To you, it cleans your waste-receptacle. But to him it’s a wonderfully, marvelously shaped toy. It has the right shape and size to mimic a stick, and truly fun filaments on the edges to gnaw on. Plus you left it on the floor, for him to find and play with. And the interesting thing is that you are BOTH right.  But you have different perspectives on it.”

Though I hemmed and hawed and sputtered, ( I mean I bought the thing. I paid money for it as a toilet-scrubber) I couldn’t help but see my friend’s point. “Bought’ and ‘money’ didn’t mean anything to my foster dog, and never will to any dog. ‘Buying and money and general finance’ is a human issue. Shape and size and desirability and access meant everything to my foster. Utility meant and will always mean everything to a dog.

Needless to say, many things are kept high in our house now. Especially with a houseful of fosters. Anything at ground level is scanned for ‘dog fun factors’ ( would a dog want to chew it? Pee on it? Play tug with it? Bury it?  If so, up it goes!) We humans at the RdC no longer see a toilet scrubber as ONLY a toilet scrubber, or a tennis shoe as only footwear, or a TV remote as a television-operator. Because to a dog, an object does not have the same meaning. Financial and practical terms, in the human sense, make NO sense to a dog.

Is it chewy, interesting, or potentially fun-making? That’s how a dog sees an object. Even a toilet-scrubber. Even a purse that a trendy human will spend ten thousand dollars to buy. ( Chewy! says the dog! Still smells like Crocodile and Cougar! Yum! I’ll hunt that, yesiree!)

The duality of objects never fails to fascinate me. To me, an empty potato chip bag inspires hideous remorse. ( Did I really eat the whole thing? In ten minutes! Oy Vey! I suck! Again!) To our fosters it inspires a good game of game of tug-o-war. ” Look what I got!  This toy that crackles and smells really good! Yay! Catch me if you can!”

Joy Nicholson is the author of The Tribes of Palos Verdes and the founder of the Rancho de Chihuahua dog rescue, in Chimayo, New Mexico. You can also find this post on her blog.

Today, Outside magazine and New Belgium Brewery (Fat Tire, Ranger IPA, etc.) teamed up for the spring launch of Mighty Arrow. Get on over to their page ( http://bit.ly/mighty_arrow) and post your dog pics and videos. They’ll donate a dollar to the Humane Society for everyone who gets involved. Here’s the video Cooper and I made for our contribution.

The other dilemma: Which one to pick?

But now when I mention that I’m getting a dog, people give me nothing but different answers and conflicting advice: name it a human name (“it’s original because it’s a human name”), a southern name (“because she’s from the south”), a southwest name, (“you live in Santa Fe, after all”). The only way to settle it, I’ve decided, is by a handy poll, below. I’ve included my childhood methods and offers that may work. And I’ve offered some names that I like, too. But the question remains: what’s the best method for naming your new dog.

—Ryan Krogh

So you think you’ve got big dog problems? Check out the small dog problems Steven Kotler, author of A Small Furry Prayer, which hits bookshelves this month, deals with on a daily basis. Kotler, who also wrote West of Jesus, and his wife, fellow author Joy Nicholson, moved from Los Angeles to Chimayo, New Mexico, a few years back to start Rancho de Chihuahua (www.ranchodechihuahua.org) as a sanctuary for small dogs. Amazingly, they’ve managed to preserve both their sanity and their relationship. The book is a sidelong look at the world of dog rescue as told by a novice—Kotler—who fell into animal activism by falling in love with an activist. If you’ve ever thought the world dog rescuers live in is probably a kooky place, Kotler and the bazaar culture of northern New Mexico don’t disappoint. When you put 30 chihuahuas and their L.A.-transplant rescuers in the black-tar heroin capital of America, crazy things are bound to happen. When I asked Kotler whether all of the stories—from the coyote that wanted to play with his pack to the altruistic lesbian dogs—he responded: Not only are these stories all true, but there are a dozen others that are even crazier. I didn’t include those because nobody would have believed them.

Read an excerpt of the book in Outside’s October issue and then buy it

Mike and I spent the weekend doing Adventure Dog demonstrations at the Teva Mountain Games in Vail, Colorado. Here’s the daily round-up of the games, courtesy of Serac Adventure Films. —Grayson