Dogs and Hoomans — What Works Between US and What Can We Learn from It?
I avoid reading sad stories about animals, especially about dogs. But I often go back to the end of the New Yorker piece by Anna Heyward, “Bad Dog”.
“The sciences that study how animals behave define several categories of symbiotic relationships between species. Among them are commensalism, in which one species benefits and the other is unaffected; mutualism, in which both parties benefit; amensalism, in which at least one species is harmful to the other; and parasitism, in which, between two species living together, at least one benefits at the expense of the other.”
This gives me a framework to unravel my relationship with our two dogs. I thought about it many times and thought deeply and hard recently when Jonali and I traveled back with them on a train from Mumbai. We were cloistered in a coupe for a full day, a rarity when were so close physically.
Science says that humans and dogs have come close in the last 35,000 years. Humans, who were then hunter-gatherers, found wolves coming in the night to scavenge their leftover meat, but it was also giving them protection from the wild animals in the night. So soon humans started giving them the meat proactively, and the wolves started coming closer and closer. A symbiotic relationship evolved, the first of the four as mentioned in the New Yorker article.
Over a period this relationship grew. Humans understood the value of dogs beyond guarding, deploying them into a whole host of other activities like shepherding, entertainment, rescue, transportation, and increasingly even as guide dogs. The same is true with the dogs, they understood that aligning with the humans is the best way to survive in the bad world. Unquestioned loyalty, dedicated service, and bonding became potent survival tools.
But for all these to trigger, a dog has to be adopted first. So there was the rapid development of the facial muscles, especially above the eyes (this adaptation is fast from the evolution perspective). That heartwarming look of the puppy at the shelter, where we want to bring home all of them, is an outcome of such muscle modulation (incidentally the Huskies don’t have it, and always seem staring hard). Research says an average dog can make over 100 facial expressions.
So far so good. The dogs are providing services, and humans are providing them food and shelter. But increasingly this equation seems to be broken. The number of dogs as pets has exploded globally, and in the majority of such homes, the dogs add no value from a utilitarian perspective. Nevertheless, they are entering our bedrooms, capturing our thoughts on their well-being, and in rare cases of conflict with another human, winning on the emotional ground.
How does this work out? This falls flat on the face of the “man is a rational animal” theory.
Take our case, we traveled back from Mumbai by train with Holly and Bolt, our India and Lab.
From booking AC first-class tickets to confirmation to special application for a coupe to landing up at the station 5 hours before for booking of pets (as luggage), to finding/ arranging pet-friendly transport at both ends of the journey — the efforts were not insignificant. Add to this the special food planning, medicines, sleeping arrangements, and countless walks in the compartment and also on the platforms for them to defecate and urinate, and clean it after that. But we are already thinking of making another trip with someone — such was the fun.
How does this work? It is beyond logic. But I think I have an answer.
I think after the basic needs are met, the most important need of humans is being recognized and accepted. Remember the adage — that we can’t forget everything but humiliation. Almost all conflicts, including the world wars, can be traced back to how people felt, and it is almost always an affront that was to be redeemed.
How do we feel accepted? It is when someone is ready to spend time with us, feels happy with our presence, agrees with us (or at least pretends to), and holds no grudges. Now this is often done by humans too, and it is often with an agenda. But not with the dogs.
Dogs acquire nothing. When Bolt (our lab) came to us at six and a half years old (he was adopted), he had a steel bowl and chain. When we leave them at the shelter, they just have a collar. But they don’t even need that, they only need us.
They have no agenda. I suspect that they know that one day of theirs is seven days of humans, and so they live it to the fullest. And they listen.
I remember Misery by Anton Chekhov, often called the best short story ever. The cabman finds solace in the horse at the end of the day by telling about his grief, which no one had time to listen to. Did the horse listen? We don’t know and probably will never know.
Curiously the dogs too give the same vives. I talk to them a lot, and I feel they are attentive. I don’t believe they understand, but I believe for sure that they try to understand.
In a world where communication is increasingly broadcast, with less and less consideration about whether the other person is even interested, let alone whether they have anything to say, these eager eyes of my dogs are a self-validation.
I am sure that is the same for many. And that is why often people remember their dogs more than their friends and relatives. Much after they are gone.
References:
Man’s First Friend — The Epic Story of Dogs & Humans
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdy4oyEbw4I
Bad Dog — Anna Heyward
