If I believed in reincarnation, I’d want to come back as a dog living on Martha’s Vineyard. On this Island the phrase “It’s a dog’s life” isn’t anything to whine or whimper about. Instead it’s an apt description of the canine high life that the Fidos and Fifis here lead. Some call Martha’s Vineyard “doggy paradise.”

Let’s start off with the obvious. There are dogs everywhere here: riding in the back of pickup trucks, waiting outside the library, sauntering down bike paths, guarding baby strollers, and doggy paddling anywhere the water’s deep enough.

From purebred to mongrel, pooches here got it good.

Watch summer dogs coming over on the ferry and it’s obvious they know where they’re heading. They can barely contain themselves with excitement. The old Island hands – old Island paws, we should say – calm those taking their first ride by telling them it’s all worth it: “Oh yeah, the Vineyard’s cool. There’s deer and rabbits and birds to chase. Good smells. Lotsa trees to pee on. The animal control officers? Oh, they’re pretty nice. Yeah, if you get busted you get bailed out the same day. Oh and the most popular restaurant – yup, it’s named after a dog. And all these people walk around with silhouette dog T-shirts and silhouette dog hats. But because you haven’t been there before, here’s a tip: don’t let him and her buy matching silhouette dog sweatshirts and walk around in them. That’s, like, totally uncool. I mean, even us dogs laugh at them . . . oh, yeah, you’ll like it on the Vineyard.”

A pair of my favorite dogs lived just outside Vineyard Haven toward West Chop. They belonged to different households but I’d see them hanging around together when I’d be biking home. They were an older couple, of indeterminate breed. Occasionally they’d cock an ear or wag a tail at my cycle-by, but for the most part they ignored me.

Imagine my surprise when one Saturday I saw these two mutts ambling down Main Street in Vineyard Haven. They were like a pair of senior citizens out for a weekend stroll.

Here’s what was really weird. You know how when you’re in the big city and you see someone there from your hometown and even though you don’t know the person you feel obliged to say Hi? Well, when these two dogs strolled past me they looked at me and kind of wagged their tails as if to say, “Yeah, right. Guy on the bike. From out by West Chop. How’s it going? Take it easy.”

Then there are the driving dogs. You know the ones I mean. As soon as their owner stops and hops out of the vehicle, the dog’s like, “I can drive,” and shifts over to behind the wheel. There he or she can look over at the other driving dogs and say “Hey.” On any given day at the Vineyard Haven Post Office, about half the cars parked there have a driving dog at the controls.

None of this is to suggest that I advocate violating town leash laws. However, I think it is the mark of a civilized society that it uses discretion when enforcing such laws.

So I’ll end this by addressing all those dogs whose owners leave them at home with NPR on so they don’t get lonely: Always wear a leash. Don’t poop in anyone’s backyard or where they might step in it. And count your blessings – in a couple of hours you’ll be running free again in doggy paradise.