No better picture, portraying the noble qualities of the dog could be given than that by Buffon. And why this close observer of nature should say—“Without having like man the faculty of thought,” has always seemed strange. It sounds like a misprint, or an error in translation. Thought is the exercise of the mind—reflection, meditation, consideration, conception, conclusion, judgment, design, purpose, intention, solicitude, anxious care, concern, etc.
Who is there, even with ordinary acquaintance with the animal, that has not witnessed some if not all these attributes of “thought?” Most writers on the subject have shown a desire to give the human animal some distinguishing quality or faculty above all others, but their line of demarcation between man and the rest of animal creation has not been altogether successful, as man can not claim by the high authority that he is the only species that has the something called “spirit,” which is necessary in order “to think;” for the sacred book teaches that man and beast are alike in this, but the spirit of man goeth upward, while the spirit of the beast goeth downward to the earth, and which in anti-bellum days constituted a knotty text for Southern theologians who taught that “niggers and dogs” have no souls.
An eminent Scotch clergyman, who has made a study of natural history believes that dogs are possessed of the same faculties as man, differing only in degrees. He asserts that conscience in man and conscience in the dog are essentially the same things. And Charles Dickens declares that dogs have a moral nature—an unmistakable ability to distinguish between right and wrong, which led him to believe the difference in the dog nature and the so-called spiritual nature in man was imperceptible, and that future existence rested upon like natural foundations.
It would be holding conclusions in opposition to all rules of observation to say that dogs and other animals are destitute of the faculty of “thought.” When the awful torrents came sweeping down upon Johnstown the terrible waves and debris dashed over housetops and Mrs. Kress was carried away by the wild current in an instant beyond human help, her faithful dog, unmindful of himself, jumped after her, and when he saw her dress come to the surface, seized and carried her to another housetop. Soon this house was demolished, but Romeo kept the head of Mrs. Kress out of water and battled with the raging current and floating timber for more than half an hour before he reached the roof of another house, where she was taken up unconscious with fright and exhaustion. When the dog saw the motionless condition of his mistress he barked and howled and made pitiful demonstrations of grief, for he “thought” she was dead; but when she breathed he became delighted and manifested his joy in a way that could not be mistaken.
For eight summers a little cocker spaniel (Archos) was daily with the writer in field and forest, and to his industry and sagacity is due no small part of the success in obtaining fresh specimens for the life size, hand-colored work by Mrs. N. E. Jones, entitled, “The Illustrations of the Nests and Eggs of Birds of Ohio.” Many of the rare small birds build on or near the ground in thick cover, and among those he was credited with finding may be mentioned the obscure nest and eggs of the Helminthophaga pinus—Blue-winged yellow warbler, and the nest of the Geothlypistrichas—Maryland yellow-throat. He knew the object of pursuit as well as his master, and delighted in finding these little homes, and would stand firmly on a point, as it was understood between us that the bird must be shot when flushed for positive identification. He knew what his master was doing, for he understood the meaning of almost all words used in ordinary conversation, and could transact business on orders with admirable accuracy.
While out with a friend quail shooting, the sun was warm and we sat down on the cool grass in a fence corner shaded by the dead leaves on an oak bush. The little cocker was panting with heat and enjoyed the shade quite as much as his master. Soon a voice was heard from my friend, on the opposite border of a large field, calling: “Send Archos over here. I have a dead bird my dog can’t find.” The cocker paid no attention to the call, and no reply was made by the writer. And to show how much a dog may acquire of the meaning of words in a few years, I said to Archos in a conversational tone, as he ceased panting and fixed his great dark eyes on the speaker: “Ed has lost a dead bird—he can not find it; you go over and get it.” No sooner said than the little fellow started off in the tall ragweed which covered the field, and unknown to my friend scented the dead bird and brought it and laid it at my feet, all the time smiling and wagging the tail, as much as to say, “I would like to tell you how nicely that was done, but I can’t talk—dare not.”
Bab says: “Away back in some old book there is a story how dogs used to talk, and were men’s advisers. One day a great prince met a beautiful woman, and despite of the advice of the dog who was his counselor, he married her, and he made her cousin, a beggar, his prime minister. Amid the festivities, the dog warned the prince to watch the woman, told the prince that she was unfaithful, that her cousin was her lover, and that between them they would rob the kingdom and drive him from the throne. He turned on the dog and cursed him—cursed him so that this good friend, looking at the prince, said: ‘Until men are grateful and women are faithful, I and my kind will never speak again.’”
The world has grown older and better, but for the peace of society and quiet of social relations, it’s well he still holds his tongue. Professor Garner, who has devoted much time to the study of animals in this country and in Africa, has confirmed the general observation of those familiar with rural life to be true: that cattle—as horses, sheep, hogs and other animals—talk among their kind. What there is to be detected in the manner of delivery of the same sound, giving out entirely different sensations, is yet to be discovered. The squeal of the hungry pig, repeated by the phonograph, only increases the hunger and squeal of the pig that hears it; while to repeat the similar squeal of a pig in pain, at once causes manifest fear, anger and distress in all the pigs that hear it. And it must be so—all domestic animals do think and reason, and not unoften are enabled to make their thoughts known by signs and sounds to those to whom they look for help and comfort other than their kind.
Dogs are utilized extensively in Germany and other parts of Europe as draft animals. The United States consul says, in the large, wealthy and industrial city of Leige, and throughout Belgium, dogs are used for delivery of goods by all the trades of the city. While they are used as hewers of wood and drawers of water, the species is the most versatile in talents of the animal creation—and the dog makes the most accurate critic, the most successful detective, most reliable witness, best sentinel and most trustworthy friend.
Persons do not stop to think there is a world of intelligence, love and affection outside the human head and heart, and innocently ask, “What makes the dog heed every word when his master says ‘you can not go with me this time?’ What makes him place himself at the most observing point and look wistfully after his departing friends until they disappear in the distance? Why does he stay, perchance all day, at a favorable point to hear or see a returning approach, anxiously waiting and watching, and at the well-known and accurately distinguished sounds of the footsteps of his master’s horse from all others, runs to meet his master, and barks and laughs and cries with joy and gladness?” The beneficence of creation gives the answer in a world of unselfish love.