You forget how successful Nintendogs was. It sold a staggering 23.9 million copies in its lifetime: more than Red Dead Redemption, Super Mario Odyssey, and Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The Nintendo DS was red hot when the game launched in 2005, and it was instrumental in the dual-screen handheld's unprecedented infiltration of mainstream culture. It helped that you didn't need to be a 'gamer' to enjoy Nintendogs. One look at those lovingly rendered, realistically animated puppies was enough to draw people in—and basically anyone with the ability to hold a stylus could enjoy virtually stroking their fluffy little heads.
I had a Nintendog. He was a golden retriever named Fluffo. I spent hours with that little guy, tossing him treats, brushing him, rubbing his ears, and using the built-in mic to call his name. I walked him, threw frisbees for him, and decorated his house. I occasionally felt ridiculous doing it—I was, technically, a grown man at the time. But I was sucked in like everyone else. Look at his little face! He's so real! Then I lost the cartridge. I have no idea where, when, or how, so I had no way of retracing my steps. In an instant, Fluffo was dead. Gone. Finito. Maybe he fell into a crack between the floorboards or I accidentally threw him in the bin.
I often wonder if Fluffo is out there somewhere, his innocent soul trapped in that tiny square of plastic. If he did end up in the trash, he's probably in a landfill now—with 17 years of garbage piled on top of him. If he fell under the floorboards he's probably still there covered in dust and dead bugs. I moved out of that place over a decade ago, so I'll never know. Maybe if someone buys the house and refurbishes it they'll lift up the floorboards, find the cart, brush it off, slot it into a DS, and my furry child will be born again. But it's more likely he'll remain locked in his prison for the rest of time. No more belly rubs; just the void eternal.
When Nintendogs was the hot new thing, these imaginary dogs were lavished with love and attention on a massive scale. I worked for a games magazine at the time, and I remember people sitting at their desks on their lunch breaks fussing over their wee digital pets. But where are they all now? I'd be amazed if many people still use a DS regularly, let alone play a nearly 20-year-old pet simulator on it. Fluffo isn't the only dog trapped in this purgatory of silicon: there are millions of them out there, and their souls will never find peace. If 26 million people bought it, and most had multiple dogs, that's a vast number of abandoned pets.
A dog is for life, not just for Christmas. That's what they say. But what about a Nintendog? They don't even get the dignity of a burial in the backyard or a lie about them going away to live on a farm: they're just coldly deleted from existence and never thought of again. Just think for a moment about all those lost, broken, abandoned Nintendogs cartridges out there. They'll outlive us all, remaining intact long after we've turned to dust and the oceans have risen and drowned the planet. But those precious little dogs we once smothered with care in the early 2000s will never experience real human love again. I'm sorry, Fluffo.