Evan Ratliff - Dogs: A Short History from Wolf to Woof

Cocker spaniel Jess and owner Janice Gorman play a game of fetch during an evening stroll on New Zealands Piha Beach. Faithful companions, dogs evolved in the company of humans; their bones share graves with those of Homo sapiens as far back as 12,000 years ago.

(Chris Gorman/National Geographic My Shot)

R oddy MacDiarmid, 57, lifelong shepherd and son of a shepherd, surveys the Scottish Highlands from a ridge overlooking Loch Fyne and the little valley town of Cairndow. On one hand lies the estate of John Noble, where MacDiarmid has worked much of his life; on the other, the estate of the Duke of Argyll. Black-faced lambs and ewes by the hundreds dot the green hillsides below. His border collies, Mirk and Dot, trot faithfully behind. Its familiar turf.

Everywhere you see, says MacDiarmid, sweeping his shepherds crook in an all-encompassing arc, I have gathered sheep. And I can tell you this: You cannot gather sheep from these hills without dogs. Never could and never will; never, never, ever!

That ringing endorsement is a comfort to those of us who keep dogs but sometimes wonder why. Its good to know that somewhere dogs remain absolutely, undeniably essential to mans work while we happily wander about with our furry friends, feeding them, walking them, scooping their droppings, showering them with affection, and taking them to the vet at the first glimmer of trouble. We occasionally get nipped or barked at in return, but more frequently we are rewarded with a lick on the hand or a wagging tail or a rapt willingness to listen to our most banal statements, as if they are something profound.

Dogs and people, people and dogs: Its a love story so old that no one knows how it started. The human beings who participated in the earliest domestic relationships [with dogs] thousands of years ago are all dead, says zooarchaeologist Darcy F. Morey with refreshing candor. They cannot tell us what was in their minds or what they sought to accomplish.

And because no one had yet begun to write things down, we are left to speculate, as did the British writer Rudyard Kipling in 1912, when he offered this theory in Just So Stories:

Then the Woman picked up a roasted mutton-bone and threw it to Wild Dog, and said, Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, taste and try. Wild Dog gnawed the bone, and it was more delicious than anything he had ever tasted, and he said, O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy, give me another.

The Woman said, Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, help my Man to hunt through the day and guard this Cave at night, and I will give you as many roast bones as you need.

That scenario (minus the talking dog, of which there are, of course, none even today) would have played out about 14,000 years ago if you follow the archaeological trail to the origins of dogs, much further back if you favor DNA evidence suggesting dogs existed well before the earliest traces of their bones. Either way, this is clear: Dogs are not just our proverbial best friends in the animal world but are probably our oldest friends. They evolved from wolves long ago, found a home alongside humans before history makes a record, and never left.

And why would they? Dogs profited handsomely from the association. As wolvestheir closest kindwindled to scarcity, the sociable, hardworking, malleable, adaptable, lovable dogs in myriad shapes and sizes proliferated alongside humans in the globes every corner. Today there are about 68 million in the United States alone, one for every four people. And although a few still work for their daily cup of kibble, most get free rides. Ninety-nine point nine percent of them do nothing but lie around the house, bark, and eat, says contemporary writer Stephen Budiansky, grossly overstating the case to make a point. His book, The Truth About Dogs, suggests dogs get a lot more from the relationship than humans get back.

Well, they certainly arent chewing many leftover mutton bones anymore. In her Park Avenue apartment on New Yorks Upper East Side, NancyJane Loewy feeds Tiffy, her fluffy, eight-pound Maltese, twice a day from an enviable larder. Along with her dog food, says Loewy, Ill give her a little chicken for breakfast, some steamed baby carrots, steamed broccoli, and some sweet potatoa balanced diet. For dinner, I might add lamb or steak or poached salmon or tuna with steamed vegetables. And for dessert, some low-fat yogurt with no sugar, maybe just a teaspoon of strawberry or apricot yogurt to sweeten it Then Ill give her one or two Teddy Grahams, she likes those, and maybe some Pepperidge Farm Goldfish crackers for snacks.

Loewy, whose husband is an investment adviser and whose two sons are away at school, has the time and wherewithal to treat Tiffy as she might royalty, and delights in doing so. I want to give her the healthiest, most wonderful life possible for as long as possible, says the slender New Yorker as the fluff-ball curls up alongside.