During my childhood I was taught that there is a radical separation between humans and other creatures. We reason, have emotions and intelligence, and we transcend merely physical attributes; we have a soul. Other creatures are propelled by thoughtless instinct. We are subjects; they are objects. Over them we have total dominion.
Several decades ago when I was very young, Dad had a couple of dogs on and off. I remember best two Boxers, Rusty and Beauty. However, they were Dad's dogs. I don't recall any closeness with either of them.
In April of 1995, a few months before we moved into our new home in West Palm Beach, we decided to buy a dog. It would provide my late mother, who was to live with us while journeying further into Alzheimer's dementia, with a companion. We selected Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, because of their gentle disposition and small size. We located Karen, a breeder with an excellent reputation. We were interviewed very carefully at her home.
After the successful interview, one of the four puppies released into the family room went right to Mom. Mom melted, and so did we. Cavaliers come in four delightful colors; Tenno is a ruby. Karen was willing to keep Tenno until the new house was ready. Thank goodness, because completion of the house was delayed repeatedly. We visited Tenno now and then as we looked forward to the moving day.
During a May visit, Karen brought out three of Tenno's half-siblings (same father, different mothers). Recently born, all three fit in the palm of one of her hands. They looked more like mice than dogs! Weeks later we decided that Tenno would probably be happier with a canine friend. One of the three mice was available; we sent Karen a check for Comes, a black and tan.
In August the house was ready. On the day after we moved in, we picked up Tenno and Comes. Karen had really bonded with Tenno, and it was hard for her to see him leave. This was clearly more than a business transaction.
Comes, three months younger, was fine from the start. Initially we thought that Tenno was going to be an emotionally distant pet. We did not know that he was apprehensive and grieving for Karen and his familiar surroundings. After a few months, he joined Comes in his attachment to us. The two dogs are inseparable, clean each other's eyes, sleep, play and roughhouse together, but have very different personalities. Will joined them in January of 2001, and at this writing, they are adjusting well.
We have been amazed in so many ways at their behavior. Although I admit that we are somewhat too attentive to them, we continue to realize that they are dogs, our beloved pets, and not our children. Nonetheless, we reached a point that when we revised our wills, we provided for them; with her consent, they will be returned to their breeders. We trust them totally. We also know that we will grieve for each of them, if they predecease us - which is likely. (But who knows what fatal accident awaits us on Florida roads during the tourist season?!)
I remain puzzled about the dogs. While I reject naïve interpretations of all their behavior in precise human categories, I do wonder how uniquely different we are from them. Are our differences in matters of degree rather than kind? What's going on in their brains? What kinds of intelligence and emotions do they have? How do they communicate with each other and with us? In what sense are they conscious? Do they get bored? Do they perceive ugliness or beauty? Do they have capacities we lack? To what extent can they solve particular problems? What rights do/should they have? To what extent should their rights be protected by law? What is instinctual in them (and in ourselves)? Do they and/or we have a soul? Is there a next life for them? Do they have intrinsic value? Can a dog truly be a friend? To what extent is it ethical to experiment with dogs? Is it ethical to eat dogs, as people of a few cultures do? With the questionable notion that we humans are at the center of all creation, do we own dogs, or are we their stewards?
In a discussion of capital punishment with a clergyman, I was told that I was supposed to see Christ in all persons. I blurted, "Well, I don't, but I do in my dogs!" Their apparent innocence, forgiving nature, and capacity for love are wondrous.
At another time, during an informal forum on epistemology, I teased a couple that I knew in the group; they were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. "How do you know with certainty," I examined the husband, " that she loves you? You don't know what's going on in her mind. Perhaps she has been taking you for a ride all these years." He paused, smiled wisely and lovingly, and replied, "In any case, I've enjoyed the ride!"
Although not a perfect analogy, we are reminded by implication that studies of other creatures' minds will always be subjective, perhaps inadequate, because we study their minds with ours. I'll not spoil the relationship we have with our dogs by rigorous academic analysis. I'll just be grateful for their presence, whatever their internal workings -- not wholly unlike the trust in humans that I love.
Nonetheless, I am curious about our dogs. We're appreciative of the contemporary studies about other creatures. Serious scholars and animal fans have produced some noteworthy books; a few are listed under the bibliography for this section of the web site.
As a longtime teacher of philosophy and religion, I am grateful to Comes, Tenno, and Will for their companioning presence and for raising intriguing questions. Most of all we are grateful to them for eliciting in us nurturing and other positive qualities that could too easily have remained dormant.
Addendum - November 2004
Because of illness in our household, three dogs proved to need more care than we could provide. Will was the youngest and has many good years ahead of him, so he moved to Kansas to live with his breeder's niece in her wonderful home. It was extremely difficult for us to give him up. However, the comforting factor is that his new home is at least as loving as ours. He has made an exceptional adjustment there, and Tenno and Comes (nearing 10) seem to have adjusted to his absence. How I wish we could explain to Will why we had to give him up. But, I suspect that is more our need than his!
2008 Photo of Will via friends