We cannot, however, remind ourselves too often that our attempts to understand the workings of the dog’s mind, and the explanations that commend themselves to us of the reasons for his methods of action, are all based on our own consciousness of cause and effect. And here we must take into account the difference in the outlook on life between the dog and ourselves. The effects of environment we know count for much with us. Change of scene and surroundings will give us fresh mental vigour as well as renewed bodily activity when both need recuperation. But the change of surroundings that will give to us advantages that go far to prolong our span of life is as nothing compared to the difference that separates our own normal outlook on life from that of the dog. The four-footed friend that trots at our side, or scampers at large in wild enjoyment of strength and freedom, is marked off from us by his mode of locomotion and the position and bearing of his head and body. His outlook is limited by his bodily structure, in spite of his strength of vision and his marvellous sense of smell. In the latter case, indeed, we look up to the dog from a lower plane, for our limited development of the sense of smell tells us but little of the power it gives him. That it not only differs in degree but in quality is shown by the delight with which a well-bred, cleanly house or sporting dog will roll in some evil-smelling refuse that fills us with disgust. The possession of such an organ, at once so different and so much more sensitive than our own, must make for much in the influence of his surroundings on the dog, and thus adds to the many difficulties we have in understanding and entering into his outlook on life.
Doubtless the sense was given him to enable him to hold his own in the battle of life. He retains it in the artificial conditions of domestic life, but in the days when he depended for his supply of food on the success that crowned his efforts in the chase, it was necessary to his existence. Without it he must have fallen a prey to his enemies in the jungle and the forest, instead of turning the tables on superior brute force by the delicacy of his organs and his superior powers of combination.
The traits that have come to our household friend from his wild forebears are often shown even in the most highly domesticated inhabitants of our home. How far these inherited qualities may influence the dog’s outlook on the surroundings of his present life, who can say? As we watch our favourite turn round and round on the hearthrug, and scratch at the unresponsive rug before he curls himself up to sleep, we know that he is doing what his progenitors did in the wilds, when the action had a use that is wanting to it now in securing the comfort of his rest.
A strange habit of the same nature was shown by a fox terrier that formed one of a pack of sporting dogs. This terrier, from the time she took her place in the kennels with the older dogs, was observed to turn round sharply whenever her food was put before her. The action aroused attention, though no one could say at what stage of her puppy life it had been developed. She was watched, and never did she omit the rapid turn round as on a pivot before she tasted her food. Her mistress, who had kept her pack of terriers for years, and who studies the characters of her little kennel friends as but few people do, made inquiries of her keeper, and found that when he fed the dogs, Amora always went through the same little performance as a preliminary to the business of eating. Up to the last day of her life it was continued, but so far as is known none of her children have shown the same peculiarity. Certainly those that I have known in my friends’ kennels have not had it, and no one has been able to give a satisfactory explanation of the habit.
A very charming reason for the unusual action was given by a little girl, the niece of the owner of the kennels. The child was delighted with the terrier’s performance, and always begged to be allowed to be present at feeding time, so as to enjoy the sight of Amora’s turn. Being of a thoughtful nature, she one day gave the result of her speculations on the matter. “Auntie,” she said, with the engaging directness of the youthful thinker, “I know why Amora turns round before her dinner. She means it for her grace.” With such a solution of the mystery who would venture to quarrel?
We might well bring the same gentle sympathy to bear on our own dealings with the dog. For we often forget that the patience we give as a matter of course to the as yet untrained intelligence of the child is doubly wanted when we have to do with the dog. Intelligent as the latter is, he never rises to our level of expansion of the powers of mind, and in reading our thoughts into his we must ever remember that the higher paths of reason’s play are closed to him.
That the dog has the dawning of a moral sense is clear to me, and the possession brings him near to us on the outskirts of the higher life, of which we alone have full enjoyment. But to give him credit for powers that in their full expansion are denied him is to bring discredit on the wonderful gifts that are undoubtedly his, and for the development of which he is dependent on his intercourse with us. The deeper the sympathetic insight we bring to bear on our study of his mental and bodily activities, the fuller will be his response to our training, and the greater our own delight in his companionship.