The Tale of the Dog

I wrote this for "DigitalDog.com", a website my partner and I dabbled with in the early days of Sonoma.Net. It's just a narrative theory of how modern dogs came to be, meant to make people (especially kids) think about it.

Read as much of it as you like. Enjoy!

The Tale of the Dog

by Robert Wolchock

Late at night, the small clan of prehistoric humans huddle around their fire, listening to the sounds of the creatures of the night. In the distance, they hear the roar of cave lions, the bellowing of mastodons. As the moon rises, they hear the howl of wolves, not nearly as far away as they might wish.

Even as today, they react nervously to the lonely, unearthly voices of the wolves calling to each other. It's no accident that the wolves are near the humans. Both groups are social animals, both hunt much the same prey. It's unavoidable that their paths cross from time to time. But there is no doubt among the humans: the wolves are a dangerous predator. Their nightly howling just serves to intensify the impression of the wolf as alien and enemy.

But sharing territory as they do, it is inevitable that sooner or later, fate would conspire to place a wolf cub into the hands of the humans. Perhaps children playing or looking for berries stumbled upon a wolf den while the parent wolves were out hunting. They are charmed by the cute baby wolves and take some back to the clan's camp. Or perhaps a hunting party is challenged by a mother wolf. They kill the mother and discover a nest full of babies. On a whim, they decide to bring the babies back to the camp, there to decide their fate.

Back at the camp, the clan elders express disapproval: wolves are the enemy, they can't be trusted. These babies are cute and cuddly now, but what will happen when they grow up and sprout large fangs and claws and a taste for human flesh? The clan argues and debates, and finally decides to take a chance. They will allow the wolf cubs to stay, but only as long as they seem thoroughly safe.

You can guess the rest. As the cubs grow, they are handled and loved and pampered by the clan. They grow up thinking of the clan as their pack; they may even think of themselves as humans, not wolves. And when the clan is threatened — by a lion, or a wolf, or another clan — the cubs exhibit standard wolf-pack behavior and defend the clan.

Afterward, the clan sees the young wolves in an entirely different light. Maybe wolves could be good for the clan. In time, they bring more cubs into the clan and raise them as "pets."

Another version of the story might have wolves and humans sharing the same hunting area. The humans, having a higher level of organization, are more successful in hunting the local prey, and the wolves come to realize that what the humans discard saves them the trouble of hunting their own prey. Little by little, the wolves move closer and closer to the clan's campsite.

At first, the humans are scared and upset. They throw rocks and spears, they stoke up their campfire to ward off the wolves, their traditional enemy. Still, the wolves creep closer and closer, looking for whatever scraps they can steal. In time, the humans grow more accustomed to the presence of the wolves. Eventually, the bravest (or most desperate) of the wolves dares to go right up to the edge of the camp. She's not looking for a fight — all she wants is food, or maybe the warmth near the fire.

When wolves in a pack want to avoid a fight, they exhibit submissive behavior. They roll onto their backs and offer their throats to the stronger, more dominant pack members. They make soft sounds and look as un-threatening as they possibly can. Would the same trick work for the wolf who entered the clan's camp? Sure enough, the humans observe the wolf acting submissive and decide that this particular wolf is not a threat — at least, not right now.

Perhaps one of the humans tears a scrap of mastodon meat off the drumstick he's gnawing on and tosses it to the wolf. Ah, food is offered. That's one of the things that's supposed to happen when a wolf submits to a more dominant wolf. The wolf tries more wolf-tricks to show that she is harmless, willing to submit.

"Just keep tossing me food," she's thinking. "I could get used to this!"

The humans watch. The more they toss scraps, the less threatening the wolf appears. Day after day, the wolf comes back; day after day, the humans grow more fond of this strange, friendly wolf. Maybe, one day, the wolf brings another wolf — perhaps her cubs. She shows them how to behave around the humans to get food. The wolves are smart and learn quickly: be a submissive wolf and the humans will give you food; act aggressive and the humans will throw rocks and spears at you.

The humans grow used to having the wolves around. They might even grow comfortable enough to pet them. And then, one day, the clan is threatened. Just as in the other version of the story, the wolves identify with the humans as their pack. Being wolves, they defend their pack and drive away the invaders. The humans recognize the advantage of having an ally as fearsome as a wolf on your own side.

Either of these stories, or any of the thousands of variations on them, could be the true story of how wolves first came to live with humans. Most likely, many of the stories are correct, as wolves and humans began to interact in many different locations. Meanwhile, several things were happening. As the wolves entered human clans and began to breed, humans found that some of the cubs were clearly more suited to being domestic animals than others. Some of the cubs had so much wildness in them, it would be impossible to trust them once they grew up. These cubs were either driven away or killed, while the most domestic and trainable cubs were allowed to thrive with the clan.

Today we call this selective breeding. At the same time, some clans had particular plans for their new allies, and looked for certain characteristics that best fit their plans. Perhaps they wanted the fastest runners. Maybe they wanted strong swimmers. These were the animals that got the best treatment; the others were sent away. This was the beginning of breeds.

Around this time, humans became mobile. Clans travelled farther and took their wolf-friends with them. Trades were arranged, and wolves with desireable characteristics began to breed with other wolves with different desireable characteristics. The gene pool did its work and produced wolves that were less and less like the wild wolves, and more and more suited to serving their new human pack-mates.

The same stories played out all over the world. In Africa and Asia, the humans found new animal allies in the jackals. In Australia, dingoes found their way into the human camps. In time, distinct breeds became recognizable. The breeds that were closest to the northern wolves became the modern German Shepherds, Huskies, Malamutes. The great wolves of central Europe may have evolved into modern hounds and water dogs. Smaller wolves specialized in hunting burrowing prey and became terriers and spaniels.

And so it goes. Today there are over 400 breeds of dogs recognized by kennel clubs. Some experts believe that, worldwide, there are over 800 distinct breeds. One thing is nearly certain: they all trace their ancestry back to the wolf.