In the early 1980’s during a reptile
survey on Trinidad I was watching a lizard, an Amieva or as the Trinidadians call them, a zandolie, forage for
insects at the edge of a dump. My binoculars were focused on the lizard’s
movements and it was several minutes before I realized Turkey Vultures had
gathered on the waste pile. The birds had surrounded a severely emaciated puppy
with its ribs clearly visible through its severely ulcerated skin. The dog’s
death was imminent. The birds moved
closer and soon my view of the dog disappeared amid a flurry black feathers.
Biology tells us that all organisms
produce far more offspring that can be expected to survive. This was one of
Charles Darwin’s founding principles for natural selection and an idea he may
have gleaned from Thomas Malthus’ Essay
on Population. Over production of offspring allows the environment to
select the individuals best adapted to local condition to survive and
reproduce, while those individuals least fit for the environment are eaten by
predators, or they become diseased, and unable to find shelter – they become
victims of the climate and food for scavengers and decomposers. Despite my
understanding of this basic principle my gut told me I should save the dog
while my brain told me the vultures need food, the dog was too far gone to be
rescued, and this is the way ecosystems process matter and energy. I had observed predation and scavenging
numerous times involving many species but never remember feeling the way I did
at that dump. Before that point in time I had never owned a dog and the
observation increased my curiosity about dogs, humans and myself.
Dogs generate a strong emotional and
empathetic response in most of us, perhaps because we identify with them, or
perhaps because we know that as humans we are responsible for their plight.
Dogs, after all, are human commensals. Rats, cats, cockroaches and, of course
dogs, owe their biological success to humans. Humans have created environments
where these species thrive by increasing their food supply, habitat, and social
environment. But, aside from cats, dogs are the only commensal we have an
emotional bond with. The emotion I felt at the Trinidadian dump and the bonds I
have formed over the years with several different family dogs are responsible
for the title of this blog. There is something quite unique at the core of dog-human
relationships and it is the central focus of this blog. Why should a human feel
an emotional bond with a dog? Particularly,
if that human had never had extended contact with a dog.
Twenty-five years after the observation
in Trinidad I was studying aquatic snakes in Thailand and dogs were often
present. Well cared for dogs were the exception, in villages and on the edges
of large cities feral dogs are a serious problem. One hotel I stayed at just
north of Bangkok was next to a canal with roads paralleling the water on each
side. One side of the canal was lined with homes and stores; the other side was
abandoned rice paddies. It made an excellent jogging trail for early morning exercise.
At this time of day local fishers were throwing cast nets into the canal, and
factory workers were on their way to work on an armada of motor bikes. Dogs,
lots of dogs, were sleeping on the street and along the dirt road. Most were
small, 15 to 25 pounds and often uniform tan in color or with blotches of white
or black. Most had skin infections, were severely malnourished, and sometimes
followed me for short distances as I walked and jogged along the path. These
feral animals resembled my family dogs only in form and they made me nervous –
rabies was a potential result of being bitten by one of these animals.
My family’s first dog was purchased in a
pet shop. Sara’s fifth birthday was approaching and the only thing she had ever
asked for was a dog. Kathie and I had resisted. While I was busy looking at an
anaconda for sale in the pet shop, Kathie and Sara were visiting the dogs. One
of the employees removed a keeshond puppy from a cage, and it immediately took
to following Sara. One pet shop customer, impressed with the dog’s interest in
Sara, approached Kathie and said something like, “This is a Kodak moment. You
are going to buy her that dog, aren’t you?” We left the pet shop without the
dog, had dinner, and returned to buy or rescue the puppy. Sara loved Star Wars, and the dog’s appearance was
reminiscent of the Ewok creatures in fur density and coloration, we named him
Wicket.
Yes, I know I was not supposed to buy a
pet shop dog, it was probably produced in a puppy mill, but I also knew that
the dog would have a much better life with us than someone else. Parents of
many species go to extremes for their offspring. Biologists call this kin
selection and it’s an idea that plays a major role in understanding relationships
between dogs and people as well as between members within each species.
Wicket was soon a member of the family.
Our fenced-in-yard on a busy street assured him a secure place to play, but
there were stairs involved in getting into the yard and the dog was too small
to navigate the steps. I spent a considerable amount of time transporting Wicket
to the yard during that winter in an attempt to housebreak him.
It was sometime in late winter when I
arrived home from school; Kathie and Sara were already there. As I walked in
the door Wicket raced back and forth between me and the back door. I followed
him to the steps that lead into the yard. What followed is something that
animal behavior courses do not prepare you for. The dog was accustomed to me
carrying him into the yard. As I opened the door, Wicket raced down the stairs
by himself and returned to the top of the stairs, and again raced to the bottom
of the stairs and back up. The damn dog was showing me that he could now
navigate the stairs by himself and no longer needed my help. Wicket taught me
much about behavior and dogs. Another moment of learning came when I walked
Sara and the dog to a nearby park. Sara played on the swings and was having a
good time and she did not want to leave. While she rarely argued with me, this
day she did. I said, “Ok, Wicket and I are going home.” As I walked away from
Sara, the dog sat down and I had to pull him down the street in the sitting
position. He was not going to leave Sara willingly. This kind of loyalty was
not present in the village dogs that followed me along that dirt road in
Bangkok. The village dogs had not been socialized.
Wicket lived a good life, despite the
fact that he developed epilepsy and need to be treated with drugs for much of
his life. After a grand mall seizure he would frequently be confused for hours.
After a particularly severe seizure I remember him standing with his head in
the corner of a room not knowing how to get out. After eight or nine years he reached a point
beyond which we could care for him, and like many family dogs he had to be
euthanized.
I had been thinking about dogs more
frequently and it occurred to me that having two may be better for them and
increase what I could learn about them. Sara was now in high school and I had
found a kennel that bred Samoyeds. During a visit to the kennel the breeder had
an 18 month old female that she was interested in selling on a breeding
contract. After considerable thought, we agreed. We would buy Taiga and breed
her once. Our intention was to keep one of the puppies. Again, I would not
recommend this kind of arrangement to people just wanting a dog or two, but I
was curious and interested in learning what I could from the experience.
Taiga was large, she weighed about 80
pounds and her wolf-like appearance on the street made many people nervous.
While she was exceptionally friendly, she was not at all loyal. She would go
off with just about anyone. Shortly after she started living with us there was
a snow storm, I had closed the side door to the garage and opened the main door
to shovel the driveway. The blowing snow reduced visibility and the wind had
popped the side door open. I soon gave up on shoveling and returned to the house
only to find the dog gone. Looking for a white dog in a snow storm is like,
well you know, like trying to find the proverbial needle. I drove around the
neighborhood looking for her without success. We had to be at school and Kathie
and I asked everyone if they had seen the dog, one student said he had seen a
large white dog getting into a police car not too far from our house. A call to
the station confirmed the village police had picked her up after she walked
into a neighbor’s house and joined the family for breakfast. The homeowner was
retrieving his newspaper and as he entered the house Taiga followed.
Taiga went into estrus and was mated to
a male from her home kennel, 60 days later she went into labor. It was early in
the morning when the first pup was born and I had already gone to school.
Kathie called and insisted I return because she did not want to play midwife. Taiga
was having strong contractions but more puppies were not coming through the
birth canal. Kathie and Sara went school, leaving me with the dog. Steve was a good
friend and a vet and I soon had him on the phone. His first advice was, wait
another 10 minutes for the next puppy. I waited 15 minutes and there was no
puppy. Another phone call to Steve, and he asked how many puppies were
expected? The x-rays had shown nine. Steve’s advice was to wait another 10
minutes. While waiting I called my office and got someone to cover my first
class. Ten minutes passed and still no puppy. The third call to Steve, and the
advice was the same wait 10 more minutes. I had predicted the response on the
fourth call to Steve― get the dog to the local vet. At the vet’s office an
injection of oxytocin, a pituitary hormone, stimulated the muscles in the
uterus and birth canal to contract and push the puppies out of Taiga. By early
evening I picked up the dogs and brought them home.
Taiga delivered nine pups; two had not
survived the trip through the birth canal. The surviving pups were housed in a whelping
box, and Taiga proved an attentive mother, frequently cleaning and feeding her
offspring and, as they became more mobile she kept them from wandering out of
box. Despite the fact she had a warm room in the house to maintain her puppies
she would often return to the den hole she had started to dig under the house
in the backyard. We had provided a dog
door in the wall of the hallway so she could exit the house onto the deck and
have access to the backyard. Soon the puppies were following her outside. Once
they had reached eight weeks of age the breeder took six of them, we kept two
and gave one to some close friends. We kept Rossi, the first puppy born at the
house, and the largest male in the litter. Taiga trained Rossi to use the
backyard, he required no housebreaking from us and he grew quickly, eventually
weighing 100 pounds.
Rossi was highly intelligent and much
more loyal than his mother. He would often report his mother’s mischievous
deeds to us. Taiga was a consummate counter-surfer; anything edible left on a
counter would be found and consumed. One day she found a five-pound bag of M&M
candy on the counter, took it to the backyard, and consumed much of it. Contrary
to popular belief, chocolate is not always toxic to dogs. Rossi found the
wrapper and brought it to Kathie. Taiga also gained a reputation with the cable
company for chewing up remotes. You know you have a problem when you see power
buttons sticking out of dog poop in the backyard.
 |
| Rossi |
The ability to mimic behavior is often
consider a sign of intelligence and Rossi would mimic emergency vehicle sirens
and would even include the sound changes that resulted from the Doppler effect
as the emergency vehicles approached and then pass the house. But one day he
mimicked me in a quite unexpected way. Rossi was completely house broken; he
never had an accident in the house. One day I was mopping the hardwood floors with
a sponge mop and a bottle of cleaner. I would squirt some the cleaner onto the
floor and then mop the area. Rossi watched me intently. A stream of cleaner
would come out of the bottle and I would push it around with the mop. Standing
in front of the mop, Rossi released a stream of urine on the floor, directly in
front of the mop. I am sure he thought he was helping by mimicking my behavior
with the bottle of cleaner.
