Original air date: 7th July 1993
Oh boy, is this ever an interesting slice of Family Dog. Unlike "Doggone Girl Is Mine", which I find myself liking entirely sincerely for the sweet and amiable story it manages to tell, "Enemy Dog" is roughly twenty-two minutes of pure, utter, total fucked-uppery. It's a HORRIBLE episode, and yet it's so horrible, and so emblematic of everything that's deeply, wretchedly, intrinsically wrong with this series that I find myself rather liking it, albeit in a greatly more ironic sense than "Doggone Girl Is Mine." I have an extremely screwy love/hate relationship with this particular episode that in many respects helped to solidify my becoming a Family Dog "fan", so buckle up tight for one hell of a loving dissection.
Before we go into this episode, let's say something about the representation of gender roles in Family Dog. In terms of family dynamics, the Binfords live in a world that barely seems to have progressed beyond the 1970s, with men being the sole breadwinners of the household and the women strictly regulated to homemaking responsibilities - a depiction which I suspect was already looking hopelessly outdated back when the series debuted in 1993. At home, the oafish Skip is most in his element when he's lounging around watching TV, and he'll only accept household tasks (very grudgingly) when angrily ordered to do so by Bev. For her part, Bev clearly feels unappreciated and dissatisfied with her lot in life, although there's nothing to suggest that she has any genuine aspirations beyond tending to her family's needs and owning a whole bunch of stuff. The Simpsons, of course, was reliant upon much the same gender archetypes with Homer and Marge, although they were at least fleshed out a lot better as characters (not to mention, that Marge was a bright and talented woman who might have gone a lot further in life if she hadn't got saddled with Homer was kinda the point). It's somewhat impossible for me not to touch upon this issue here, because "Enemy Dog" contains a nighttime sequence in which we visit the dreams of numerous characters, and the gender stereotyping is at its most flagrant and inescapable. Hey boys, don't you know that the only things that should matter to you in life are size and TV? And girls, if you can't cook up a decent meatloaf, then what the hell are you living for?
Before we go into this episode, let's say something about the representation of gender roles in Family Dog. In terms of family dynamics, the Binfords live in a world that barely seems to have progressed beyond the 1970s, with men being the sole breadwinners of the household and the women strictly regulated to homemaking responsibilities - a depiction which I suspect was already looking hopelessly outdated back when the series debuted in 1993. At home, the oafish Skip is most in his element when he's lounging around watching TV, and he'll only accept household tasks (very grudgingly) when angrily ordered to do so by Bev. For her part, Bev clearly feels unappreciated and dissatisfied with her lot in life, although there's nothing to suggest that she has any genuine aspirations beyond tending to her family's needs and owning a whole bunch of stuff. The Simpsons, of course, was reliant upon much the same gender archetypes with Homer and Marge, although they were at least fleshed out a lot better as characters (not to mention, that Marge was a bright and talented woman who might have gone a lot further in life if she hadn't got saddled with Homer was kinda the point). It's somewhat impossible for me not to touch upon this issue here, because "Enemy Dog" contains a nighttime sequence in which we visit the dreams of numerous characters, and the gender stereotyping is at its most flagrant and inescapable. Hey boys, don't you know that the only things that should matter to you in life are size and TV? And girls, if you can't cook up a decent meatloaf, then what the hell are you living for?
"Enemy Dog" sees the return of the Binfords' insufferably perfect neighbours, the Mahoneys, last seen winning Best of Breed with their dog Buster in "Show Dog". Here, they've just gotten back from a local police auction, where they've acquired a brand new dog (it seems that Buster had to go after he messily disemboweled a postal worker - turns out that winning Best of Breed four years in a row isn't everything), a former K-9 which Martin Mahoney has saddled with the odious moniker K-10, on the grounds that he's a cut above your average dog. The Binfords are observing the scene from their front window, and it does amuse how shocked and awed they apparently are at the mere sight of K-10, given that he's a total carbon copy of Buster design-wise (this could be an intentional joke within itself, but something tells me that it's not). There's a really annoying bit of interaction between Billy and Buffy which reminds me of why I hate their characters so much - Buffy keeps on insisting, "It's not a doggy, it's a horsey!" while Billy retorts that, "It's not a horse, butt breath!" Whatever their failings, I give the Mahoneys points for at least raising tolerable children. The Mahoney twins' sole defining character trait is that they're super-swotty when it comes to their command of the French language, which I would happy take over the straight-up repulsiveness of the Binford children. On that note, this is the episode in which we observe Billy's descent from hyperactive brat to fully-fledged sociopath, while Buffy continues to have all the charm of a worn-out toilet brush.
Buffy asks if the Mahoneys' new dog is going to eat their dog, to which Billy tauntingly responds that a far more likely scenario would be for it to steal all of their dog's bones. This is enough to send our dog into a paranoid tizzy (again, there's the implication that the dog can understand exactly what the humans are saying, which I really don't like), in which he's compelled to start burying his treasured bones deep within the garden where the new dog hopefully can't reach them. Billy then strolls over, sticks him on a leash and drags him all the way over to the Mahoney's front yard for seemingly no other reason than to taunt the dog with the likelihood that the new dog will bite him in half. It's clear that K-10 isn't taking very kindly to our dog, who realises what deep shit Billy is pulling him into and desperately wants out. The Mahoneys recognise that the Binfords' dog is not at ease but seem painfully oblivious to just how terrified he is, not to mention the aggression exhibited by their own hulking, salivating beast of a pet. They even encourage K-10 to walk right up to our dog, as if they're consciously looking to provoke an all-out bloodbath, but then Skip shows up with Bev and Buffy in tow, and rescues our dog from a certain mauling by lifting him off the ground. Buffy then asks, "Can our doggy kiss the new doggy?" Ugh, Buffy, maybe you should just keep quiet. Bev, surprisingly, seems to think that the suggestion is adorable, but Skip at least has the good sense to see that it's a bad idea. At Martin's insistence, they attempt it anyway but, rather than allow himself to be lowered into the jaws of a salivating monster, our dog manages to squirm free of Skip's hold, and we get an odd, slow motion sequence in which he makes a bolt for it to the safety of his own backyard. I guess that the purpose of the slow motion is to emphasise the intensity of the dog's fear, in making every moment of his escape seem painful and drawn-out. My main criticism of this sequence is that there's a moment in which the dog nearly gets run down by a kid on a tricycle that's very weakly executed, in that we never get any sense of the tricycle being anywhere near the dog.
Buffy asks if the Mahoneys' new dog is going to eat their dog, to which Billy tauntingly responds that a far more likely scenario would be for it to steal all of their dog's bones. This is enough to send our dog into a paranoid tizzy (again, there's the implication that the dog can understand exactly what the humans are saying, which I really don't like), in which he's compelled to start burying his treasured bones deep within the garden where the new dog hopefully can't reach them. Billy then strolls over, sticks him on a leash and drags him all the way over to the Mahoney's front yard for seemingly no other reason than to taunt the dog with the likelihood that the new dog will bite him in half. It's clear that K-10 isn't taking very kindly to our dog, who realises what deep shit Billy is pulling him into and desperately wants out. The Mahoneys recognise that the Binfords' dog is not at ease but seem painfully oblivious to just how terrified he is, not to mention the aggression exhibited by their own hulking, salivating beast of a pet. They even encourage K-10 to walk right up to our dog, as if they're consciously looking to provoke an all-out bloodbath, but then Skip shows up with Bev and Buffy in tow, and rescues our dog from a certain mauling by lifting him off the ground. Buffy then asks, "Can our doggy kiss the new doggy?" Ugh, Buffy, maybe you should just keep quiet. Bev, surprisingly, seems to think that the suggestion is adorable, but Skip at least has the good sense to see that it's a bad idea. At Martin's insistence, they attempt it anyway but, rather than allow himself to be lowered into the jaws of a salivating monster, our dog manages to squirm free of Skip's hold, and we get an odd, slow motion sequence in which he makes a bolt for it to the safety of his own backyard. I guess that the purpose of the slow motion is to emphasise the intensity of the dog's fear, in making every moment of his escape seem painful and drawn-out. My main criticism of this sequence is that there's a moment in which the dog nearly gets run down by a kid on a tricycle that's very weakly executed, in that we never get any sense of the tricycle being anywhere near the dog.
Martin then announces that he'd like to invite the Binfords to a special dinner he's hosting tomorrow night in honour of K-10. The Binfords can't come up with a convincing excuse to get out of it in time so they're stuck with the obligation. As the Binfords retreat back to their house, Skip and Bev bicker over which of them was ultimately responsible for coming up with an excuse on the spot, prompting Billy to ask if the two of them are about to fight. They both bluntly tell him to shut up. It's scenes like this which I presume are supposed to make the Binfords seem relatable, as they actually have petty family squabbles, unlike the impossibly perfect Mahoneys, but the tone of it is completely misjudged.
Time now for a glimpse into the enemy's mindset, as we cross over into the Mahoney household to see what Trish and Martin are dreaming about. In a contrast to Skip and Bev, Trish and Martin are snuggled close together and so perfectly in sync with one another that they're apparently having the same dream, in which they envision themselves as the stars of a black and white 1950s sitcom. I think the gag here is supposed to be that the Mahoneys are such a painfully squeaky-clean bunch that they identify with the idyllic, ridiculously antiquated family values exalted by the TV of another era - the problem being, of course, that the "modern" ideals exalted by the Binfords' dream sequences are every bit as painfully antiquated.
I'd probably be a lot more dismissive of this sequence if not for the fact that I have a very genuine fear of sitcom laugh tracks (no lie, the sounds of disembodied laughter mocking the pain and humiliation of everybody onscreen is something that's always struck me as inherently nightmarish), and this adds a thick layer of unabashed creepiness to the proceedings. That the laughter here is prompted by the most banal and purposely gag-free of statements almost makes me want to compare it to David Lynch's Rabbits (Lynch was one of the few directors to recognise the intrinsic gruesomeness of the sitcom laugh track as a concept and to utilise it to its full horror potential - we'll certainly be talking about Rabbits at a later date, because it taps into that fear of mine so perfectly). Really, I could dissect this sequence and pull out a whole level of subtext about what that laugh track reveals about the state of the Mahoneys' collective subconscious. Why, for example, does Skip and Bev praising Trish's meatloaf elicit laughs from the "audience"? Or Billy telling the Mahoney twins that he loves them? The most likely answer, at least from the writers' perspective, is that it represents just how bland and humorless the Mahoneys are, but a darker, more defiant reading might have it that as indicative of cracks in their facade of over confidence. Surely the Mahoneys aren't naive enough not to realise that the Binfords hate and resent their well-scrubbed guts? On some internal level, they're aware of just how ridiculous this entire scenario is (about as ridiculous as two dogs growing opposable thumbs and holding up their dinner plates for luau meatloaf), causing their subconscious to react by erupting into total mockery.
Finally, we head out to Binfords' backyard to join the dog, who's having by far the most palatable dream of the lot. Personally I always like it whenever the show dips into the dog's fantasy world, as it allows for some more experimental storytelling, with offbeat, surreal and entirely non-verbal sequences conveying the dog's hopes, fears and aspirations in a manner that's by turns affecting and haunting. It's in moments like this that we get some semblance of the show taking on its own identity and feeling like more than just an ersatz Simpsons. Here, the dog is frantically burying every bone he has deep within the garden (in a neat visual gag, he appears to be taking his cues on where to bury them from a bone-shaped constellation he perceives in the stars). He keeps on digging until finally he passes out from exhaustion, and dreams about being able to float up into the night sky and run with the dog-shaped constellations - or rather, to run after them, as they do not seem to notice him here. Compared to the all-out horrors we've just witnessed within the heads of the Binfords and the Mahoney, this dream seems like such a charming and fanciful breath of fresh air, although it takes a somewhat more pitiful turn when our dog fails to leap over Saturn and comes crashing back down to Earth. I guess this is how you indicate canine feelings of inadequacy.
Story-wise, "Enemy Dog" isn't as tightly-structured as "Doggone Girl Is Mine" - like "Hot Dog at the Zoo", it contains a couple of drawn-out sequences which add little to the overall episode and feel like they were thrown in purely to kill time. Everything that happens between the dream sequences and the Binfords actually getting to the Mahoneys' house ends up being entirely disposable, serving only to add more fuel to the dog's already well-established feelings of fear and paranoia that his life, territory and stash of marrowbone are all on the line. There's a sequence in which the dog faces off against a toy robot dog that Billy has left lying around the house, which feels totally superfluous, as does a subsequent scene in which Billy steals one of the dog's bones and then taunts the dog as to its whereabouts. Finally, there's a downright deplorable scene in which Billy and Buffy are teasing the dog by holding a bone out of his reach and goading him to jump for it, and Bev (who's usually the most gracious of the family toward the dog) reacts by bitterly suggesting that the dog is learning a valuable lesson in not always being able to get what he wants. Actually, Bev, it's a safe bet that with a family as shitty and thoroughly unpleasant as yours the dog is already well-accustomed to that particular lesson. Again, one gets the impression that this is the show's idea of how "normal" families behave, but the tone, once again, is just so unspeakably wrong.
After that array of filler, we finally see the Binfords setting out to the Mahoneys', beckoning the dog has he hangs about cautiously on the Binfords' driveway. I have to say, I don't get why there's this expectation that their dog should even accompany them to the Mahoneys' dinner in the first place. I grew up in a cat-owning household so I can't speak from experience, but how many families out there would actually bring along their dog if they were invited to dinner at someone else's house? Does neither family appreciate that bringing an outside dog onto another dog's territory might be asking for a confrontation? Then again I find that this episode makes a lot more sense if you interpret Martin and Trish Mahoney as consciously conspiring to murder the Binfords' dog - more on that in a moment. For now, the Binfords seem resigned to leave the dog standing on their driveway (with Skip, for once, crediting him as a "smart dog...he knows how to avoid heartburn"), only then he suddenly has a change of heart and decides to follow. This part of the episode frankly confuses me, because the dog's motivation for deciding to walk up to the Mahoneys' out of his own free will is never accounted for. He knows full well that K-10 is lurking inside the house, and the Binfords were all poised to let him off the hook anyway, so why on earth does he momentarily choose to cast those fears aside? Oh, and for some reason he brings a bone along too. This will become an important plot point later on, but it strikes me as every bit as inexplicable that, following his bout of paranoia that K-10 is conspiring to steal his bones, he willingly brings one into the Mahoneys' house, right where K-10 can see it.
(Oh, and a small side-note, but I can't help but notice that as the Binfords leave their driveway and cross the street to the Mahoneys' house, they actually leave Buffy, their youngest child, to cross the street all by herself. Nice to see that they're about as attentive to their children's well-being as they are to their dog's.)
Predictably, it turns out that staying in the driveway would have been the more sensible option, as no sooner do the two families sit down to their luau meatloaf dinner when K-10 begins prowling around the other side of the table and making inhospitable gestures at our dog. The Binfords and the Mahoneys seem totally oblivious to this fact, and when K-10 disrupts the dinner by lunging aggressively at our dog, Trish and Martin's response is to shut both dogs up in the laundry room together. Again, this only makes sense if you read the Mahoneys as intentionally conspiring to have the Binfords' dog killed, which frankly would be no less stupid than anything else in this episode. Naturally, the two dogs don't just sit there and survey each other peacefully, with K-10 attempting to sink his razor-sharp jaws into our dog's hide the instant the door is closed on them. Listening to the ensuing raucous from the dining room, Trish Mahoney happily declares that "K-10 has found a new best friend!" while Billy delights in the thought that, "They're killing each other!" God, what is it about this particular neighbourhood that makes it such a hot-spot for sociopaths?
At Skip's insistence, they go to check on the dogs. Finding K-10 ostensibly alone, Billy cheerfully declares that their dog has been devoured, only to discover him hiding in one of Martin's shirts. The dog has managed to keep a tight hold upon his bone the whole time, but lets his guard down and drops it while trying to bark defensively at K-10, who promptly seizes it, much to our dog's horror. With that, the Binfords decide to leave, with K-10 visibly gloating about his conquest of our dog's bone. We then cut to nighttime at the Binfords' house, where Skip has apparently forced himself to regurgitate Trish's luau meatloaf, and then, more than a little incongruously, tries to hit on Bev (actually, I find that downright odd, as "Doggone Girl Is Mine" had previously hinted that the two of them typically don't have much of a sex life). Meanwhile, our dog is restless because he's really feeling the absence of that bone which was unceremoniously taken from him.
For all of its shortcomings, "Enemy Dog" does have one hell of a satisfying ending sequence. Not wishing to let K-10 get the better of him but knowing full well that he would tear him to pieces were they to have it out directly, our dog decides to sneak back to the Mahoneys' house in the middle of the night and to take back the bone while K-10 is sleeping. Conveniently, the Mahoneys have neglected to fasten one of their windows, so our dog is able to scramble inside, pull the bone away from the sleeping giant and leg it back successfully to his own backyard. Unfortunately, it seems that K-10 has cottoned on quickly and stalked him all the way back. He proceeds to chase our dog into the Binfords' house, up the stairs and down the hallway, and finally into Skip and Bev's bedroom, where our dog is able to leap nimbly over the sleeping couple, but K-10 misjudges his own movements and collapses in an ungainly heap upon Skip and Bev. As they awake with a start, and K-10 is left having to take the heat for the disturbance, our dog races back into the backyard, where he realises that he's in the clear and settles down happily to sleep. The episode ends on a wholly triumphant note, with the dog revisiting his earlier dream about running with Canis Major, Canis Minor and Lupus, who now acknowledge him as one of their own.
In the end, the only genuinely positive things I have to say about "Enemy Dog" are that the dog's dream sequences are pretty charming and that it bows out triumphantly enough, with our dog one-upping K-10 in a highly satisfactory manner that also causes Skip and Bev some much-deserved aggro. Again, there are some lingering dour undertones, in that the dog ultimately remains stuck with this appalling family who seem at best oblivious to his sufferings and at worst actually seem to enjoy making his life miserable (meanwhile, there's another family across the street who apparently want to bump him off for some unknown reason), but for now I think we're best off taking the dog's cue and simply enjoying the moment while it lasts.
Otherwise, "Enemy Dog" is one nasty, nasty piece of astonishingly misjudged would-be comedy. It exemplifies pretty much everything that I identified as being wrong with the series in my introductory post - notably, its representation of an all-out suburban hell from the perspective of a character who'll always be squarely at the bottom of the pile. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it - and yet I find that, for all its failings, I inexplicably love this episode a whole lot too. The whole thing plays out like such a dreadful, grotesque little nightmare that I'm half-inclined to call it a masterpiece of sheer monstrosity - a nauseating trip into the horrors of the modern suburban family (or what this series wants us to think is a modern suburban family, at any rate) and through the ugly, wretched bowels of banality, where all manner of bitterness and casual cruelty are rife. A world where genuine redemption is utterly impossible, but where, if one lives by one's wits and relies upon nobody but oneself, then a small, momentary victory from time to time is the best that one can reasonably hope for. It might not be quite up there with Rabbits in the peculiarity stakes, but it does make for amazingly unsettling viewing.
In the end, the only genuinely positive things I have to say about "Enemy Dog" are that the dog's dream sequences are pretty charming and that it bows out triumphantly enough, with our dog one-upping K-10 in a highly satisfactory manner that also causes Skip and Bev some much-deserved aggro. Again, there are some lingering dour undertones, in that the dog ultimately remains stuck with this appalling family who seem at best oblivious to his sufferings and at worst actually seem to enjoy making his life miserable (meanwhile, there's another family across the street who apparently want to bump him off for some unknown reason), but for now I think we're best off taking the dog's cue and simply enjoying the moment while it lasts.
Otherwise, "Enemy Dog" is one nasty, nasty piece of astonishingly misjudged would-be comedy. It exemplifies pretty much everything that I identified as being wrong with the series in my introductory post - notably, its representation of an all-out suburban hell from the perspective of a character who'll always be squarely at the bottom of the pile. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it - and yet I find that, for all its failings, I inexplicably love this episode a whole lot too. The whole thing plays out like such a dreadful, grotesque little nightmare that I'm half-inclined to call it a masterpiece of sheer monstrosity - a nauseating trip into the horrors of the modern suburban family (or what this series wants us to think is a modern suburban family, at any rate) and through the ugly, wretched bowels of banality, where all manner of bitterness and casual cruelty are rife. A world where genuine redemption is utterly impossible, but where, if one lives by one's wits and relies upon nobody but oneself, then a small, momentary victory from time to time is the best that one can reasonably hope for. It might not be quite up there with Rabbits in the peculiarity stakes, but it does make for amazingly unsettling viewing.
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