As will, indeed, be evident, there is still much that remains unexplained; much that it will be the task of the future to throw light upon. Tests which have been but uncertain in their results; accidental discoveries, the importance of which only becomes evident, after the results have been tested in connexion with a number of animals. Among these may be placed the more recent experiments dealing with the sense of scent, undertaken by Professor Jaeger, and in this category should be placed also what I think to be a rather interesting test connected with Lola: I was at the time staying with my family at Hohenheim, and I asked the dog how many pups her mother had had—including herself: she answered "12." I inquired of Professor Kraemer if this was so, and he said that at the time at which he had seen them there had only been eleven. I then made the same inquiry in Mannheim, and found that there had been twelve, but that one had died immediately after birth. It was the only instance of which Lola knew about a dog having pups, so one day I asked her in fun (19 June, 1916). "How many children will you have?" (Thinking that the answer would be 12). At first she replied with "yes!" "Do you know how many? why that's impossible!" But she rapped "9." "How many boys?" I asked. "3." "And how many girls?" "6." I thought that this statement was due merely to her desire to make some answer, so I put the same question the next day—but the reply was again, "9." So I told my friend about this and we awaited the interesting event in much suspense—it took place on the 22 June, 1916, in the presence of my friend, the housekeeper and myself and—there were nine puppies! two males and seven little lady-dogs. I kept two of each, the others being put to death at once by one of the farm hands, for—owing to the war, as well as to the fact that the pups were not thoroughbreds, I could not undertake to bring them all up. But, the question is—how could Lola have known that there would be nine?[21 ]
ALTERATIONS IN CHARACTER
As a result of all that has here been stated, the question may very naturally arise: are there any indications such as lead to suspect a change of character, or do any other practical results follow on these educational tests? Now, Lola is by nature lovable, lively, full of fun, and she has retained these traits to the present day. Her great excitability has diminished, it is true, but this is probably due to her having grown more staid with years. Yet a difference is also to be found where her character—her dog-soul—is in question: it may be noticed in the suspicious way in which she now regards people, as though she were "drawing comparisons" between them and herself. We have, in fact, fallen somewhat in her estimation. She "asks"—so to speak—as to where our vaunted superiority may lie, and would seem to compare her newly-acquired knowledge—together with the existence forced upon her—with the life that is ours. Since she has made these "educational advances" one can often see in her eyes something that amounts to an angry reproach—something like an impatient question, as to why we have so much food and freedom as compared with what is meted out to her. She follows our thoughts to a great extent, and our abilities no longer seem to impress her, since—to her—it is only those which she herself has mastered that come under this heading at all, and here—a slight contempt for the "oppressor" is often discernable. There is also a greater show of independence and frequent contrariness, owing to her diminished respect for our "species," in short—it becomes more difficult to deal with the dog. The days of blind confidence are past—even though an innate sense of devotion to man remains, for what has just been said, seems always to occur more as the result of "moments of reflection." Indeed, this entire educational process would have little that is joyful about it, were it not for the feeling that the animal understands its friend, and is in a position to converse with us within certain limits, and this outweighs and compensates for all the rest!
As to the practical results—I can say little that is favourable. The dog's thinking seems to be at variance with her acts: thought can therefore, have little influence upon a dog's behaviour, for—as has been the case with dogs of every kind, from time immemorial—its actions are due to the excitement of the outer senses, such as scent, taste, and hearing, and any emotions observable are but the direct and inward continuation of those external sensations, and, as such, last but for a given time. What we may term the "thought form" that is bound to any given word, representing objective thought in its simplest form, rotates within a very limited circle, and is powerless over the animal's feeling. For instance: Lola knows that she is forbidden to "hunt" i.e. to go after the game, etc., indeed she has shown in many of her replies that she is well aware of what "totgeschossen" ( = to be shot dead) means. And yet—once the scent is up, off she goes, and nothing will prevent her—for, she must go!
This is a particularly strong characteristic which beating and being deprived of her food may sometimes check, but which her own powers of reflection do not cure: and it is the same thing with most of her faults. At times it will be unreasoning obstinacy, but even where she uses a certain amount of reflection, the result is identical. It has been no better where—with the help of thought—we have endeavoured to bring about actual results. An animal can be got to understand and carry out certain injunctions, such as—"sit up and beg," "lift up your paw," "go to your bed," "go out of the door," and much more of the same description, while after instruction it will understand "behind the stove lies a biscuit," yet action seldom results from such knowledge. The dog's eyes will brighten, and it is evident that it has perfectly well comprehended the meaning of the words, indeed—this much can be easily ascertained by questioning it—but the dog will seem incapable of translating what it has comprehended into action. At such times Lola will rush about, as if her limbs would not obey—as though the influence she could bring to bear on them was not sufficiently powerful—and the final result is excitement. Connexion with the motor-nerves does not come into being in response to the action of the cerebrum. As the result of repeated written and spoken orders it is possible (with a certain amount of additional aid) to set up this connexion from without, yet, even then, the actual effect is but moderately successful. On the other hand, action in the reverse way—from the nerves or senses to the brain—is easy where the dog is concerned. Lola can report about things she has done, such as—"saw deer," "drank milk," "went into wood," "was naughty," "ate some of the cow," for reflection gives more time to master the subject, and to notice what is past, and this will therefore show, that in the way of practical results, the best will be those obtained by asking a dog what he has seen, heard, or scented, etc. Indeed, it is along these lines that the police dogs have proved their worth and importance. Yet it is very necessary that one should make sure that one's dog is not a liar, but an animal capable of taking up its job in the right manner. With our present knowledge, however, we are unlikely to achieve very much, since we cannot say to a dog—"go here or there"—or—"take this letter to so and so."
Not but what dogs have—in exceptional cases and after training—learnt to carry out such instructions, but it has resulted without their thought-activity having been developed. They get familiar with a certain road, and—basket in mouth—they will proceed to the baker's but—independently of habit and external impression—by the mere appeal to the brain or by means of the most persuasive words, we can attain to nothing worth mentioning, nothing that could be of distinct value, where a dog is kept for use. The sense, the object, and the reason for this educational work must be sought on other grounds.
A VARIETY OF ANSWERS
It was some time after Lola had mastered the art of spelling before I was able to get her to make independent replies. The first of these was given on the 13 April, 1916, and from that time onward they became easier and more frequent: most of those I have set down date from that period. These answers were at once noted, according to their numerals, and when the sentence was complete it was transposed into letters of the alphabet. Whenever there were any spelling mistakes, the words were placed before her, and she was told to name each successive wrong letter in reading over her answer. As I knew the equivalent letters, I was able to write them down at once, and if the reply was a short one and no paper at hand, I could memorize the letters, and enter them in a book as soon as the lesson was over—adding the questions to which such answers had been given as well as the dates. All other questions and answers, as well as particulars relating to new exercises were also set down here.