In 2007, one of the oddest and most delicious channels on YouTube launched with a short, lo-fi video on how to make Japanese hot-pot-style soup. “Today, I will show you how to cook sukiyaki,” a male voice narrates, in accented English, over a shot of lightly simmering beef broth. Then the camera pans, abruptly, to a closeup of a poodle. “Hello, I am the host of this show, 'Cooking with Dog,' ” the male voice—we realize now it is the dog’s—continues, as the camera surveys his poofy hairdo and frilly purple collar. “O.K., let’s get started.” When the camera zooms out, the dog is perched beside a stove, and a middle-aged woman in a pink shirt begins following his cooking instructions.

This video, one of hundreds of episodes of the YouTube show “Cooking with Dog,” has been viewed more than 1.4 million times. Over the years since the series launched, the dog (whose name is Francis) and the woman (known only as Chef) have released a new episode every Friday, unravelling the intricacies of Japanese dishes like octopus tempura, mochi, and pork soba noodles; Western favorites like pumpkin muffins, Valentine’s Day chocolates, and spaghetti carbonara; and hybrids like matcha-flavored Swiss-roll cake and adzuki-bean popsicles. Francis delivers his instructions with the air of a patient and straightforward teacher, though the Japanese techniques and ingredients he describes may be unfamiliar to Western disciples. (“This time, you substitute komatsuna for shungiku.”) He stands obediently by Chef’s side throughout each lesson, seemingly untempted by the delicacies just inches away from his nose. “Good luck in the kitchen!” he encourages after each brewed dashi stock and noodle dish is complete. In a couple of episodes, Chef is nowhere to be found; instead, Francis is stationed at the stove pouring and scooping using a pair of strategically placed human hands.

“Cooking with Dog” is one of those gifts of the Internet that raises many compelling questions. (First and foremost: What is a poodle doing hosting a cooking show?) But it is delightful precisely because it refuses to answer, pursuing its unlikely premise for years with a resolutely straight face. Along the way, Francis has gained a following both in Japan and abroad, spawning a bento box and an apron adorned with a cartoon poodle in his image. The video quality has made modest improvements over the years. A spinoff series, “Go! Francis!,” involved a felted-plush double of the dog visiting cooking-related destinations like the Ramen Museum and Tokyo Okashi Land, a labyrinthine, underground candy store. Once, on a rainy-day visit to a Japanese bakery, plush Francis sported a tiny orange umbrella.

Despite these diversions, the core appeal of “Cooking with Dog” has always been the mesmeric, slightly eerie sight of the stoic chef slicing and seasoning at Francis’s command, and the genuinely delicious-looking results of their sessions in the kitchen. “Fan the rice in the bowl. This will give it a glossy texture.” “Cut the carrot with a plum-blossom-shaped cookie cutter.” As for dogs who give orders and the humans who obey them, I would much rather have a Daughter of Francis than a Son of Sam.

As he aged, Francis’s gray coat grew lighter; tear stains began to mark the hollows beneath his eyes, and a cushioned dog bed graced his perch beside the stove. And then, last November, “Cooking with Dog” changed forever, as all things must. At the beginning of a video titled only “Pressed Sushi with Seared Marinated Mackerel Recipe,” viewers were informed through text that Francis had passed away. “He was 14 years and 9 months old and lived a full, happy life,” the text read. “Francis was the happiest dog we have ever met.” The cooking lesson that follows was filmed before Francis’s death, and so there he is again to oversee one last recipe, peering out sleepily as Chef blowtorches mackerel fillets.

Chef has released only six videos since Francis’s death, the most recent one last week. Beside her at the stove, she now keeps a stuffed likeness or a framed portrait of the poodle propped inside his old dog bed. Francis’s narration, however, continues from beyond the grave, creating a sense that Chef, not unlike Hamlet, is carrying out the orders of a ghost. Her smile seems smaller; her face is more lined. But her hands are as steady as ever, as Francis’s beatific image watches over her every move.