The next day: "Lola! who do you like best of all people and animals?" "Ich!" (1). "If you mean yourself you should say "mich" (myself)", so she at once rapped "mich!" "And after yourself?" "Dich!" ("thee," the familiar of you commonly used in German). A frank remark, at all events, and without the taint of human egoism!
10 May: Lola has been gnawing a bone: not knowing of what animal it was, I put the question to her and she replied: "re" (reh = deer). The truth of this being confirmed in the kitchen. I then asked: "What bones do you like best—deer, hares, wuzl" (this is her own name for a pig), "or ox?" Answer: "Wuzl!" "Are you pleased that you know more than other dogs?" "No." And then—as though after due reflection—"no!" (Emphatically.)
11 May: I showed Lola a biscuit, shaped rather imperfectly in the form of a fish, saying: "What is this—an animal that swims in the water?" Reply: "Fish!" In this case I do not think she had really recognized it, but had named the only animal she knew of connected with water, which—after all—was rather clever of her!
12 May: "Lola!" I asked, "would you like to be a human being?" "No." "Why not?" I asked—showing her a biscuit. She (promptly): "I eat!" "No! not till you have answered!" "Because of work!" A little later I said: "Do you belong to me Lola?" Very energetically—"No!" "To whom do you belong then?" "To myself." "And to whom do I belong? do I belong to you?" "No!" "Whose Henny am I?" "Your own!" These amusing answers bear the very impress of the animal's sense of independence: she is loth to be considered a "chattel," like some chair or table!
17 May: In the presence of my friend and of two dogs I asked her—"Lola, why don't you like Dick?" (Dick being one of the dogs present.) "Too wild!" was Lola's comment. "What do you like best to eat?" "Ich ese wi so mag!" "Is that quite correct?" "No." "Which word should be different?" "4!" "Then what should it be?" "Ich." "So it is to be: ich esse wie ich mag?" "Ja!" ( = I eat as (or what) I choose.)
31 May: Lola did her sums badly, and I spoke very seriously to her; after which she improved, rapping out an independent remark: "say I am good!" She wanted to hear that I was ready to "make it up" again! That evening, some friends being present—I wrote on a scrap of paper—"bon jour!" showed it to her for a moment and then removed it, saying: "now rap what you have read!" And she rapped: "bon jur!" Having only missed out the "o"; the word had not been spoken, so that I had naturally thought to see the "o" among the other letters.
2 June: Lola was to write a letter to a lady whose daughter had been staying with me on a visit. The dog was much attached to this young lady, and had frequently worked with her. She began her letter with all sorts of nonsense so that at length I said: "First rap 'dear' and then tell her about the biscuits you had from Irene."
The letter: "Dear, certainly Irene is very nice to me" ... then "were" ... "What's the meaning of that?" I interrupted, but Lola lay down and said "Zu we!" ( = too indisposed.)
3 June: "Will you work now?" "No—we!" "Where have you a pain?" "O sag!" "What am I to say?" "Oh seh!" "But what am I to see?" "Ich!" "I am to look and see where you have a pain?" "Yes, yes!" But these "pains" seemed to have been called forth by laziness and possibly some slight fatigue.
15 June: A lady has come to stay with me for a few days and I said to Lola: "Why do you like Fräulien Grethe?" "Ich is zu artig." (This is indistinct but probably meant she is kind to me.) Presumably she could think of nothing else to say.