If pampering is a pet project

There is, in Los Angeles, a kennel where a human “bed buddy” will sleep with your dog -- in a four-poster bed -- for $70 a night. There is a doggie day spa where, besides the usual grooming and pedicure services, your dog can receive hydrotherapy and aromatherapy massage in a “Zen den.” There are stores hawking Louis Vuitton pet carriers, pet-edible “cupcakes,” and tiny designer tennis shoes so that poocher doesn’t get his feet wet on soggy days.

For many Angelenos -- and Americans in general -- a dog is not man’s best friend but man’s surrogate child.

The cable channels are filled with shows that cater to this ideology, including the National Geographic Channel’s “The Dog Whisperer” (in which trainer Cesar Millan sternly reprimands parents who inevitably pamper their disobedient dogs while forgetting such basic pet ownership principles as “dogs need exercise”) and Animal Planet’s latest hit “Who Gets the Dog?” in which humans actually compete for a dog’s love.

The most extreme example is the upcoming Bravo miniseries “Showdog Moms & Dads.” A spinoff of the hit “Showbiz Moms & Dads” (which documented the horrors of stage mothers), the new version, premiering Wednesday, follows couples who take their purebreds on the dog show circuit -- some spending up to $30,000 a year making their dogs (literally) jump through hoops while trying to prove to the world (or, at least, mercurial dog show judges) that their beloved babies are, in fact, “best in show.”

The beleaguered pooches are hauled on airplanes, dressed in ballerina outfits, and put on constant display. “I want him to be the center of attention,” says one owner of his new terrier puppy, purchased because his champion lineage. He then proceeds to name the puppy Liberace, dress him in a cape and take him to have his teeth whitened.

Such high expectations for our pets can lead to insecurity: Since the dogs can’t talk, how are we ever to know if our pampered canine “children” really love us the most-est?

Tapping into this anxiety, Animal Planet has introduced its newest reality show, “Who Gets the Dog?” Each week, a dog from a Los Angeles animal shelter “chooses” among three potential suitors.

The puppy, like the contestants on “The Bachelor,” goes on three “dates,” while a panel of judges (including a veterinarian, an animal behaviorist and a comedian) analyze the dog’s every move to determine which suitor the dog likes the best.

The winners go home with the dog, a year’s supply of puppy chow and $250 from Petco.

A canine connection

The dog’s suitors are naked about their emotional neediness from the get-go. “I think a dog will bring us a lot closer together; we’ll have to raise him and take care of him just like child,” says one young married couple. “We’re ready for the next step in our relationship ... and it’s not that step, so it’s a dog,” says another.

But a dog, as it turns out, is a fickle date. Take Tucker, a 1-year-old husky/shepherd mix with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, who is described as being “friendly, curious, [with] lots of energy.” One night he’s happily destroying the favorite shoes of young marrieds Sharon Isaac and Todd Albright; the next he’s going on long, romantic hikes with post-collegiate roommates Tim Hufford, Nicole Pacino and Tyler Lake; the last, testing out the bedsprings of gay couple Matt Johnson and Albert Hernandez.

To the untrained eye, it might appear that Tucker loves people, period. After all, he dispenses kisses like candy. But no -- he has “chosen” the threesome, the experts inform viewers.

“Tucker was very happy with Tim, Tyler and Nicole,” explains comedian, author and veteran dog fan Merrill Markoe. “I get the feeling that they really bonded with him.”

So how can she tell? The show, which has moved from 9 to 8 on Monday nights, sets up a series of challenges designed to measure the dog’s chemistry with its suitors. As part of their overnight “dates,” the potential suitors on “Who Gets The Dog?” are given a series of tasks to complete -- for example, get the dog to jump over a barrel, perform a relay race, play basketball, and (to the dog’s dismay) give him a bath. Most fail miserably at their assigned tasks, which seem to require that the suitors already have memorized the training chapters of “The Art of Raising a Puppy.”

But it doesn’t matter anyway: Suitors can flunk the tasks and still get the dog.

“I don’t care if the dog is following instructions or not, what I want to see is how the family is interacting with the dog -- how creative, how loving, how much attention,” says Tamar Gellar, the show’s resident animal behaviorist. “It’s not just about the dog, it’s about the people.”

All dogs used in the show come from shelters in Los Angeles County, and under an agreement with the Humane Society, no dog is returned. If a match doesn’t work out, the dog is placed with another family.

There is no exact science to figuring out who a dog bonds with the most, it seems: After all, how can you quantify love? Other than some relatively obvious body language -- “They slump, the ears go down, they get low to the ground, the tail isn’t wagging,” versus “He wags his tail, he has energy, you see the spark in their eyes,” as Gellar puts it -- it’s not always easy to compare the relative happiness of a dog from one moment to another.

One dog tries to run away from his hosts twice, even jumping through a screen door to escape; a little girl turns out to be afraid of dogs, to her parents’ dismay; a couple seem somewhat alarmed when the dog that arrives at their door turns out to be a “larger” dog than they’d imagined.

But the show’s creators say that 75% to 80% of the time, it’s a “close call” decision.

“It’s my job to see what the people’s needs are, the dogs’ needs are, and to be an ambassador to help them communicate on a middle ground,” explains Gellar. “It’s got to be personality, chemistry and lifestyle. Will you spend enough time with the dog? Will you have enough activities to do with the dog?”

Regardless, those who win parentship of the puppy are happy to regard the “dog’s decision” as a sign of true love. As Julie Wiskirchen, the adopted parent of a terrier puppy named Hugs put it, “He was really goofy, and we are too. So we clicked on that level: willingness to be silly and playful.”

Those who lose see the decision in more pragmatic terms. Darren O’Hare and Ania Kamieniecki, who lost a ridgeback named “Scooby” to a couple whose Army Reserve husband was heading off to serve in Kosovo for 18 months and needed a “companion” to keep his wife company, felt that they simply didn’t have as compelling a story to wrench the hearts of viewers.

“We just thought of it as a fun thing, we weren’t looking to win,” says Darren. “We didn’t have our ‘Omorosa’ strategy.”

Attachment issues

It’s clear that many “Who Gets the Dog?” suitors already think of the dog as their baby, even when the experts decide that they aren’t suitable parents. “I was surprised when I got in the show to see how emotional people get with an animal,” says executive producer Marty Tenney. “You get to see a lot of baby talk. When we awarded the dog, there were always tears -- tears of victory and tears of sorrow.”

The show is getting respectable ratings, averaging 456,000 total viewers between Jan. 24 and March 8. Animal Planet says it is being considered for a second season.

Since canine channeling is not an exact science, the “Who Gets the Dog?” experts don’t have a perfect record. Of the 15 dogs placed in the series, two have been returned. One went to a runner-up couple; the other was taken home by one of the show’s producers.

(Then again, this is a better success rate than “The Bachelor/ Bachelorette” series, which have produced only one true love match and wedding out of seven seasons.)

The truth is that it takes more than 24 hours -- during which time you are surrounded by cameras, crews and television hosts -- to gage your compatibility with anyone, whether animal or human.