Dog is man's best friend. Everyone knows that. But the real question is ``why?'' What makes those two such bosom buddies?

Perhaps they share a common interest, or they go way back together, or maybe, just maybe, the reason the relationship works is this: Not only can man and dog not talk to each other, but because there is no realistic expectation for true communication, there is no disappointment when there is none.

Which would explain why there are no books with titles like ``Men are from Mars, Dogs are from Pluto'' or ``The Walk of Anger,'' from the relationship guru who wrote ``The Dance of Anger.''

Until now, that is. Some Japanese genius - and by ``genius'' I mean ``person who can't leave well enough alone'' - has invented a device that claims to gauge a dog's mood by listening to its bark, and then translating that into words or sentences, such as ``happy'' or ``annoyed,'' or ``I can't stand it.''

``Bow-lingual'' uses a microphone on the dog's collar to record his utterances, and then beams the quotes to the owner's ``emotion pager.''

Bow-lingual is selling for 12,800 yen ($103) in Japan, and is doing well enough there that there's talk of exporting it to the United States.

When I mentioned the technology to a man who owns a Weimaraner - or rather a man who is owned by a Weimaraner - he looked almost scared.

``The last thing I want is more communication with Teddy,'' he said.

``If he could bark to say, `I feel queasy from the garbage I snagged from the trash can and I'm about to get sick all over your new Pottery Barn couch,' that would be great, but I have a feeling it would be more like `How come yesterday I got five milk bones and today you're only giving me four?'

``I have a daughter so I'm already being manipulated by one being,'' he added, ``I don't need to engage in discussions of my management style with yet another person - or dog.''

``I already know what his barks mean,'' the owner of a mixed breed said. She listed them: There's the ``I want to go out'' bark, the ``there's another dog outside'' bark, the ``I'm hungry'' bark.

Then she thought for a moment. ``At least that's what I think they mean. What if he's really saying, ``That dress makes you look fat,'' or ``There's fur all over this house. Would it kill you to vacuum on the weeks when your cleaning lady doesn't come?''

Speaking of vacuuming, she said, what she really needs is not Bow-lingual, but Guy-lingual.

``I could wear a microphone on my necklace,'' she explained, ``and it would capture my `barks' and then beam them to my husband's emotion pager.''

For example: When she says ``I don't feel like vacuuming,'' a text message would show up that reads ``Will you please vacuum, for once since we've been married?''

Guy-lingual sounds great! But could it work? Or are some things simply beyond even the reach of technology?