Happy birthday Yusuf, formerly Cat Stevens

There's a case to make that the greatest song ever written about pets is I Love My Dog by the singer-songwriter performing at the time as Cat Stevens and since the late 1970s as Yusuf.

Never mind the issues with making subjective assertions about art, there's a case to make here, based on two self-evident truths: it's a really fine song, and it's truly difficult to think of  anything better.

There’s Quiche Lorraine from 1980 by The B-52s, which is ostensibly about a dog that went missing, then there's Pets by Porno For Pyros from 1993, with its ironic pondering of aliens keeping humans as pets, which are both perfectly decent songs, the former a triumph of new wave quirkiness and the latter a more earnest but still catchy piece of 1990s west coast alternative, but you have to go back to 1966 to find the song that, for me at least, is the best in its field.

I Love My Dog combines so much with so little.

It's gentle, playful and skips along with a sincere sense of dog-adoring affection, but is clearly threaded with disappointment at some human relationship, presumably a romantic one for the purpose of the song, but which also works as a stand-in for a wider general frustration with messy human dynamics in general.

It's loaded with ambiguity: a few twigs of concise, lyrical grace holding up a thick, shady canopy of shifting sentiment.

The plainly healthy, positive emotion of platonic fondness for a pet constantly vies for attention with a recurring melancholy over a human relationship that doesn't live up to expectations or is maybe even failing.

'I love my dog, as much as I love you,' carries just enough of a flicker of acrimony to to hint at some discomfort over that apparent parity, and at first listen it perhaps sounds like a brazen passive-aggressive slight or back-handed compliment, but it's conveyed with such light warmth, that somehow the song still bounces along, sounding evergreen and fresh, like the simple joy of dog walks in the park.

A bit of chorus and verse and it might seem like that's all there is to it, mystery solved, but the song never quite settles into something definite and resolved.

'I don’t need no cold water to make me realise…' lets us know he’s not even entirely sure all the time of what he feels, and needs to splash his face with cold water to snap out of whatever doubts he's been having, which in turn casts doubt on how truthful the narrator is being - not just to his audience, but with himself, and even on whether they know how they feel or whether there's only one static, simple aspect to that to be able to know: or be right about or wrong about: it acknowledges that people’s feelings can change or even be in internal conflict, which complicates things: if someone really wanted to push it, it maybe questions our capacity for effective introspection.

It works on both levels - as a nice tribute to the narrator's dog (it seems safe to assume the singer is presenting his own view but we can’t be sure he isn't adopting a role) and as a lament for often complex, fraught, human relationships.

Somehow, despite the undercurrent of disappointment and messy human dynamics, the song still manages to leave an afterglow of lingering levity.

And it's all achieved with such an economy of words and the swiftest of shimmy in tone, an example of the medium at its best.

(This is particularly stark when compared to the verbosity of prose and laboured critiques - on that point it's hard not to think he could be similarly wry about this current profligate rambling, maybe he'd sing something along the lines of 'I love, my, dishcloth, as much as I, love, this, review'.)

The singer himself is ideal for the song, perfectly pitched in the middle of how to take it all.

Someone too upbeat would have blunted the hint of inner conflict, and someone too sassy, a Morrissey for example, would push it too far the other way and sound a tad scathing.

The only caveat I suppose to all this praise is that (according to Wikipedia with no reason to doubt it nor little success in trying to corroborate it beyond confirming the musical likeness) Yusuf has essentially admitted he appropriated the tune from a track called The Plum Blossom by jazz musician Yusef Lateef, and then wrote the music on top of it, but then had the decency to properly credit him and pay for the use, and then even change his name to something similar, although I've no idea if that similarity was intended.

For me, none of that detracts from the song's strength; if anything it's impressive he was able to map those delicate lyrics onto a completely unconnected piece of music, from a different genre no less.

For dog lovers and music fans alike, it's difficult to think of anything better which straddles with worlds of pets and music: I can't do it, and even if I found something else that ticked the boxes and was really good, it's it being better.

So to mark Yusuf Islam's birthday this week, to improve whatever day you're having, and to celebrate the wonderful world of people's pets, do yourself a favour and listen to I Love My Dog.

(Author's note: I resisted being sidetracked by tortuous and absurd interpretations of the song, like 'dog' could be slang for one of his friends, or the song's object isn't another person but an inanimate object such as his car, some abstract concept or non-human entity, and I'm also aware of the irony of someone called Cat singing about a dog, as he himself mentions in the 1971 BBC performance pictured - anyway, go and enjoy the song, and happy birthday Yusuf.)