II
“The dogge, a natural, kind, and loving thing,
As witnesseth our histories of old.”
IF we accept the fact that the powers of intelligence shown by the dog are of the same kind as, though of a lower degree of development than, those that form our own mental processes, we start with a premise that clears many difficulties from our path. But even so, if we would penetrate the secrets that lie behind the engaging variety of his actions, we must take into account many things that cause the dog’s outlook on life to be different from our own. We must ever bear in mind that it is only in considering our friend’s surroundings as they appear to him we can hope to grasp the effect of those surroundings on his mind. We are apt to conclude hastily that, because such and such a thing strikes us in a particular way, our dog will be affected by it in a precisely similar manner. And the delusion is fostered by the broad general characteristics of our mental resemblance to him. But if we would have more than a superficial understanding of our dogs, we must bring a sympathetic comprehension of life as it appears to them, to mark the differences, as well as grasp the affinities, of the mental and moral conditions that are in a general sense common to us both.
Yet with all the difficulties that lie in our path we can write the life history of the dog as we can of no other animal. More sympathetic than the cat, more constantly our companion than the horse, we can study him under conditions that obtain with no other of his kind. From the first days of his puppyhood to the closing hours of his life we can trace the gradual unfolding of his powers and the widening of his knowledge of life. This, too, we can do with but an ordinarily intelligent interest brought to bear on the little life that is at once so near our own, and yet cut off from us by the impassable barrier of want of human speech. “How much he could tell us if he could only speak,” a devoted attendant of a little dog used often to say, when in his own way and by his own limited powers of language the intelligent creature had made his friends understand that his surroundings were in some way not suited to the needs of the moment.
It is in the physical conditions of our life that we must seek for the first points of contact with the dog. In both our own and canine life we have, of course, the same foundation of bodily activity in the marvellous machinery of the nervous system. But this bond we have in common with all living creatures, and it has therefore no special value when we are studying our relations with the dog. Above this, we have the power of instinct, or, as it has been called, “material intelligence.”
Then we come face to face with a power in the dog that cannot be explained by the wonders of reflex action as we learn them in the study of physiology. The motive power of the action must be sought in the intangible essence of mind, and not in the material organs of the body. It is when this motive power has passed under the full sway of the mind, and we have advanced from the realm of instinct into the regions where the evidences of higher mental power are before us, that we recognise the dog as our fellow in the comradeship of life. For though in the dog we do not find the more highly differentiated powers of instinct, his inferiority in this respect to insects that come far lower in the scale of life is counterbalanced by his powers of mind, that in their higher expression we claim to be akin to our own. We hail the evidences of disinterested affection, of sympathy, of fortitude, and of trust, as links in the chain that binds our dog friend to us in a close mental and moral fellowship.
When “the one” among all dogs will give up his daily walk—the one delight that never fails—to watch by our sick-bed, or comfort us by his presence in our sorrow, the simple act of self-denial appeals to us as an evidence of the perfect comradeship of disinterested affection.