With 11 minutes to play at the Liberty Stadium on Saturday, the fourth official held up a board bearing the numbers 23 and seven. Danny Welbeck was coming on, and Alexis Sánchez was being replaced towards the end of the 4-0 win against Swansea City. The Chilean walked stroppily to the side of the pitch, brushed past his manager with head bowed, angrily drop-volleyed his gloves and slumped alone on the bench, hiding under the hood of his puffy grey coat. This gifted, workaholic footballer, admired and even adored by millions, thousands of whom were in the stadium with him at the time, seemed utterly apart and friendless. If only at that moment he could have enjoyed the warmth and unquestioning companionship of his two beloved labradors, or just been reminded of their “positive vibrations” and “shiny eyes”.

The idea is not as ridiculous as it might appear. Last month Sánchez spoke about his pets, Atom and Humber, whose names are embroidered on his boots much as David Beckham once sported those of his children. “I appreciate their positive energy, especially after I have played a football game,” he said. “Sharing my time with them makes me feel relaxed. Whenever we play away I leave them with my friends. I miss them a lot because they give me a lot of positive vibrations. They look at me with shiny eyes when I wake up every morning. I just love the fact they want to play with me all the time.”

Arséne Wenger praises the passion of Arsenal’s ‘jaded’ Alexis Sánchez Read more

Inspired by his devotion, and concerned by the player’s continued reluctance to sign a new contract, a group of Arsenal fans decided a banner bearing a photograph of Sánchez with his hounds might cheer him up. Last week they launched a fundraising drive, needing £500 to turn their vision into reality. Within 24 hours £600 had been pledged and the banners were in production.

In British football it has traditionally been unusual to talk about dogs without appending the words “of war”. We like our snapping and snarling to be delivered by workaholic midfielders, while giving the inevitable 110%. When canines have had an impact in the game it is as points of reference for the most manly of wild-tackling enforcers, such as Martin “Mad Dog” Allen and Norman “Bites Yer Legs” Hunter, or more recently when sunk by Luis Suárez into the body parts of inconvenient opponents.

Emotional attachments to pets, and emotions in general for that matter, were to be discouraged at all costs: the Belgian striker Gilles de Bilde, nicknamed The Animal for his indisciplined ways but a lover of them off the pitch, was a case in point. He reacted coolly to a proposed loan move from Sheffield Wednesday to Aston Villa in 2000 because, according to his manager, Paul Jewell, “I’d have no one to look after my dogs if I go there”, and later in his career was fined by Willebroek after missing a match to mourn a recently deceased companion. In 1970 Chic Brodie’s career was effectively ended by a collision with a stray dog while he was playing for Brentford, which only enforced the prevailing view: wherever they were encountered, dogs were potential career-enders.

But times are changing. Last year it was reported England’s own Harry Kane sometimes talks to his dogs on FaceTime during team trips (a wider British sporting phenomenon: Andy Murray said in 2015, “I Skype my dogs all the time. If I’ve had a bad match, they’re a great comfort”). And perhaps the nation’s footballers should be encouraged to give their pooches an even more active role in their preparations. Last week the twinkle‑toed Brazilian Ronaldinho published a letter to his eight-year-old self in which he encouraged young Ronaldinho to train with his pet. “Yes, I said your dog, by the way,” he wrote. “He’s a tireless defender. Eventually everyone will get tired and you will want to keep playing. So make sure you always bring your dog, Bombom, out with you. Bombom is a mutt, a real Brazilian dog, and even Brazilian dogs like football.”

All in all, it seems Arsenal’s fans may be on to something. But why stop with Atom and Humber? If they want to make Sánchez feel truly comfortable there is more work to be done. Happily the player has declared red to be his favourite colour, which means there will be no need for extensive and expensive rebranding, but so far there has been no move to reflect his musical tastes – “reggaeton, cumbia, salsa, and sometimes when I want to think or reflect, Luciano Pavarotti” – on the stadium playlist. Or, for that matter, to address more fundamental concerns.

The key problem is that no matter how many friendly dog portraits adorn their packed London stadium, Sánchez doesn’t much like crowds, or London. “It can be a stressful place because it’s crowded and it’s a big city,” he has said. “Normally I would rather stay relaxed at home.” At the very least Arsène Wenger could take note of the most pointed remark in his charge’s declaration of doggy devotion – that he “just loves” anything that “wants to play with me all the time” and cut out the sulk-inducing, game-time-reducing substitutions.