"What a horrible creature, not a dog at all!" Martha exclaimed.
"Not culturally, you are quite correct, madame," Mr. Cherkassov agreed, shifting his hold on the briefcase and leaning further forward, "but unfortunately he is a dog biologically. Some wolf blood has crept into most of the jackal-derived breeds, you know. It betrays itself in high cheekbones and slanting eyes and in the personality of the breed. The chow, for instance, has considerable wolf blood."
"Chows!" Martha beaked her lips again. "I despise them! No better than cats!" Paula nodded emphatic agreement.
"But your little Fiffalo, as you describe him, is probably of pure Canis aureus descent and very highly bred."
"I'm sure he is. Blood will tell. Monica, haven't I always said blood will tell?"
Monica nodded, her eyes shining. Mr. Cherkassov shifted his position slightly, nearer to the chair edge.
"Now moondog, Madame Stonery, is of the lajka breed and has even more wolf blood than the chow. If you brought her back to Earth she would just walk away from you with cold indifference."
"Not really?"
"Madame, you know the wolf traits only as you find them tempered with the loving jackal traits in such dogs as the chow. But a Russian dog! If you were to hand moondog a piece of meat, do you know what she would do?"
"No. Tell me."