“But when he knew he heard Odysseus’s voice nearby, he did his best to wag his tail, nose down, with flattened ears, having no strength to move nearer his master. And the man looked away, wiping a salt tear from his cheek…
If this old hound could show the form he had when Lord Odysseus left him, going to Troy, you’d see him swift and strong…
But death and darkness in that instant closed the eyes of Argos, who had seen his master, Odysseus, after twenty years.”
Homer, The Odyssey
One cannot but take notice of the dogs. I have a deep respect for horses; and cats—at least some of them—can be quite remarkable. But dogs must stand out among animals.
Let us abstract for now from the question of how it came to be that dogs relate to men in the astonishing way that they do. I think a very good case can be made that this points to intentionality in the natural order; but let us set that aside in favor of simply considering the way things are now, regardless of their origin.
In some very real and at times downright surprising ways, dogs know men. They note the slightest movements; they perceive subtle changes in mood; they infer what we are going to do next from what we’re doing now. And yes, their own passions can move in sympathy with ours. All this is obvious in experience.
It is not without reason that people can experience their pets as providing a companionship they at times might prefer to human companionship.
Odysseus’ dog recognizes him after twenty years, is glad to see him, and then dies, seemingly having waited for him. This is a better reception than Odysseus will receive from some people who knew him. This does not even really stretch the imagination. Dogs are amazing, especially in how they relate to humans.
It is noteworthy that dogs seem most to thrive through relating to persons who recognize and enact the human difference. Some dog training theory will bid—perhaps with good reason—men to play the role of the alpha dog in the pack. With no disrespect to the practicality of this approach, we might still notice a unique fittingness when a man plays the role of a man in relation to the dog. There is nothing like how a dog responds to the rationality of men.
Perhaps in this I err, but I will surmise that old Argos would not have died of a satisfied heart upon the return of an old alpha dog.
Rightly considered, the relation of dogs and men highlights two things: the amazing characteristics of these non-rational animals, as well as the more amazing difference of the rational animal. . . a difference that dogs themselves can perceive, even while they cannot understand.
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Perhaps I might take a stab at the difference between dog and man in respect to “being faithful.” Whereas a dog is faithful to its master by virtue of its natural habituation, a man is faithful to the other person by virtue of his recognition that *being faithful* is the *right* thing to do. That is, man recognizes, with his intellect, the moral law, grounded in God Himself, and adheres to that moral law for the glory of God.
Brian, I think you rightly indicate that a universal conception of ‘the right thing to do’ is unique to man, and it grounds a whole new level of richness in human activity–a level that opens into the highest realms of reality.
I certainly agree that the concept of “the right thing to do” at an intellectual level is unique to humans. I suspect that almost all societies have being faithful as a value regardless of their religious leaning. Margaret Meade could have studied this.
However, both dogs and horses can exhibit great loyalty to others of their own species. They sometimes mourn the loss of a companion. Is that a sign of being faithful?
On the other hand, the propensity to be faithful varies greatly from one dog to another. Our Jack Russell, who is now getting a bit aged, has never shown much attachment to any other creature. It’s all about him and what he wants at the moment. Way back when I was in high school, I had a Border Collie that was extremely loyal and then after college I had a Great Dane that I competed with that counted on me to do ALL the thinking. He was extremely loyal and faithful to me. I have a hound dog that took refuge in The Church Barn back around Thanksgiving. The
German Shepherds found him and scared him almost to death. Now that he is well fed and free of fleas and worms he is just a happy goofball. He has no sense of anything. I’m not sure he even knows his own name. He allows the hens to eat his food and lay eggs in his dog house. He embodies the expression “that dog don’t hunt.”
I ramble on just to illustrate the diversity of dog personality, but I’m going to bore you with a bit more.
For nearly 20 years I have had Caspian Horses. The Caspian Horse was lost with the fall of the Persian Empire. They were thought to be extinct for 2000 years yet a few were discovered in Iran in the 1960’s. How could they breed true after 2000 years of exposure to other horses? They somehow recognize their own kind and cling together. This has to speak to some sort loyalty and faithfulness. The Caspian Horse is about as pure as it gets since they had no humans directing their breeding for 2000 years.
Dick, I love to hear everything you relate here. Each thing you share points once again to just how amazing dogs (and some other animals too) really are.
It can be very challenging at times to point to differences, when similarities are so real. In other words, what I”m thinking here is: the similarities between human persons and these amazing higher animals are really striking. But at the same time, I think we need to be attentive to the real, and profound differences. Even while there is something that can be called ‘fidelity’ (or faithfulness) in the animals–something quite remarkable, it is also clear that the word is being used in a fundamentally diminished way. “Fidelity” takes on an essentially distinct meaning when we speak of what men are capable of: we might think especially of the extreme cases in war, or in crisis family situations.
In any case what you relate here certainly does not bore; it’s thrilling. Thank you.
Indeed, the word “fidelity” has far deeper meaning when applied to humans. Like all the rest of us, I should be very careful about diluting the meaning of words. Language does evolve and change yet we have a constant stream of words that “don’t mean what you think they mean.” Give the words a little respect.
Excellent post, John. Just to add a tidbit that supports your observations:
Eye-tracking studies have shown that dogs scan human faces for signs of emotion in a manner similar to that of human beings. (As I understand it, it has to do with how our faces reveal emotions asymmetrically, and so both humans and dogs tend to look first left to a person’s right eye, and then to the left eye.) Dogs do not scan each other’s faces in this way, and there is no evidence of other domestic or wild animals looking at humans in this way.
Christopher, Thank you very much for this. This information is remarkable and indeed very revealing on at least two counts: dogs interact with humans differently than with other dogs; and their interaction with humans is different from any other animals interaction with us. Thanks again.
Dogs are the only animal that look where a human points instead of at the hand that’s pointing.
I’ve been blessed to make a living working dogs for the last 20 years. They offer great insight into natural order and how God puts them here to help us. I’m always reminded of St John Bosco’s companion Grigio.
Joel, I’d love to hear some of your stories from working the dogs. It must be amazing.
I guess Hemingway put it best when he said, “there is no hunting like the hunting of man…”
My favorite experiences with the dogs are any tracks I got to run with them. The most notable being an eight hour track, involving 3 dogs, a lot of time spent in a river, a summer thunderstorm, and the bad guy breaking in to home to get a change of clothes. All this and the dogs stayed true and the bad guy was caught.
Wow. That does sound like a hunt like no other. May your dogs continue to remain true. Thanks for serving the common good…
Great read – This reaffirms to me what I’ve known in my heart all along. Our dear canine companions do have souls. Keep ’em coming Dr. C!!!
Thanks John!
I have an amazing Maine ‘Coon cat, named “Titus Pullo” after the legionary in the series “Rome.” He is eleven. We love Titus and I shamelessly anthropomorphize him. That said, Homer’s treatment of Odysseus’s dear old dog is one of the bright spots in one of the darkest and yet, most satisfying chapters in the Western Canon. Thanks for this piece.
McKim, I have to admit, I’d like to meet your cat. I hope you have him with you for years to come. Thanks for the comment.