ArchiTalk: Dog is my copilot, a brief history of dogdom

Animals live with us in our homes and we think there is nothing unusual about this. That’s remarkable if you think about it. We are so fond of these animals that we even take them with us on car rides.
I’m speaking, of course, about our canine companions. Cats are pretty cool too, and I have a pair of them that I enjoy, but it’s my dog who truly resonates with me.
She is a mixed breed, a svelte 60 pounds, with the smarts of a border collie and the looks of a golden retriever but with black highlights here and there. At times she can display amazing athletic grace but more often comes off as a happy goofball. She is, after all, a dog. Her name is Lacey, though we frequently refer to her as the Silly Noo-Noo Head.
Without any effort at all, she is quite good at fitting in with the lives of her human overlords. It’s almost like this trait is deep in her dog DNA . . . . because it is.
We all know dogs evolved from wolves, but how did that really come about? Well, thanks to a Nat Geo Wild show I watched called “And Man Created Dog,” I’m in a position to tell you about it. It’s pretty simple, and it explains everything.
Several tens of thousands of years ago when ancient humans were roving about, hunting and leaving leftover carcasses at the edge of our camps, some wolves found it easier to forage from these scrap heaps instead of hunting. Once this pattern was established, there was no going back, at least for the wolves that had thrown in with the humans. The “camp wolf” was now a thing.
Within this group, hunting skills were no longer needed to survive. Instead, it was acquiescence that made for a better life. Being tame around humans had its advantages. At some point, actual physical contact was made between man and camp-wolf — when the most curious wolf and the most curious human got close enough to check each other out. History was made by a cautiously extended hand and a nervous flinching sniff.
Right from the start there was a benefit to having these canines lingering on the edge of camp, because they served as an ever vigilant natural alarm system when predatory animals approached, a trait that remains in place in dogs to this day, as evidenced whenever footsteps are heard on the front stairs.

A cave-boy and his dog
We know this partnership is at least 26,000 years old because of the discovery of fossilized footprints of a human and canine in a cave in France that indicate that the two of them were walking calmly together side by side. The scientists have somehow surmised that the human was probably a boy of about ten years old and the canine was more dog than wolf, judging by the shortened middle toes. Apparently the boy was carrying a torch that left some ash on the cave wall that could be tested by scientists with carbon dating methods to accurately determine that the footprints were created 26 millennia ago. (Isn’t science amazing?)
As contact between man and canine became established over the years, the docile traits in the dogs were rewarded with food and shelter, thus ensuring the prospering of docile canines. Any dog that displayed too much aggression, especially towards children, was immediately eliminated from the gene pool. Humans were directly shaping the traits they wanted in their canine companions. From there, hunting dogs were created. Then herding dogs.
I’ll digress for a moment to say that there’s a central idea about all this that fascinates me. It is this:
It was the action of wolves becoming attuned to people and relying on them that turned them into dogs. Therefore their “dogness” all stems from relating to people.
It’s not like there were wild dogs in the world that happened to find their way towards life with humans. No, it was humans that created an evolutionary niche that could be filled quite nicely by these tamed wolves that then rapidly morphed away from being wolves. Their very essence is all about being attuned to fitting in with humans. No wonder they fit into our lives with such ease.

The camp-wolf adapts
If we fast forward to the present day, the legacy of all this dog adaptation is now lying next to me as I write this. As usual, Lacey is in a sort of half-nap mode, lying still but conscious enough to make sure she doesn’t miss out on any fantastic adventures like a walk down to the water or going bye-bye in the car.
Her daily goals are quite simple: Go on adventures to explore and sniff things, meet other dogs that seem fun to be with and, best of all, eat meat prepared by humans. To understand these things about her is to understand her very well. She is without the slightest bit of guile and is quite easy for me to “read.” Canine body language is incapable of hiding guilt. So much can be understood from her ear position, or the knitting of eyebrows or a tilt of the head. Most of all, it is the tail that reveals her inner life, whether tucked in tight or wagging broadly, with a broad range of emotions displayed between those extremes. My favorite is the mild happiness displayed when just the end of the tail wiggles a bit.
For her part, my dog is quite good at reading me too. How can she know I’m getting ready to leave for an appointment even before I get up? Is it the sound of me placing fresh paper in a clipboard? Or does she read auras? She likes to initiate a good snuggle and could easily have a life as a therapy dog. Among the creatures on earth, dogs are among the best at making eye contact with people. Our ancestors must have favored that trait because it’s now built into modern dogs. It has been proven that staring into each other’s eyes actually releases endorphins within the body of both human and canine, creating a pleasurable experience similar to the bonding between human infants and their parents. Is this why I often find an excuse to scratch my dog behind the ears while I lean in and make cooing noises to her? The mildly addicting quality of the lovey-dovey eye contact between people and dogs guarantees that humans will always have dogs around. No matter the future, dystopian or not, there will always be dogs at our side.
More than just the eye contact, I find it pleasant to pass the time I would otherwise be alone with a sentient being in the room with me, one who will easily pass hours letting me set the agenda, boring though it might be with so much desk time. Lacey makes a good audience for the times I break out in song, though I’m not sure she appreciates how clever I am when I substitute her name into various lyrics in the song. Neither does she judge my singing at all, and that sort of acceptance lets me be whatever I want to be around her.
When she is happiest, like when one of the kids comes home for a visit from college, the resulting expression of canine joy surely must be the most exuberant and sincere of any creature on earth. Whimpering and squealing, she will run to and fro and then come in for a lean, suddenly flopping down submissively at our feet before popping up to dash about some more, panting and smiling broadly, tail swinging wildly. Fun stuff.
So let’s hear it for the camp-wolf. Probably the best partnership deal we humans ever made.