Are our beloved dogs capable of loving us?
One scientist concludes that canines have strong feelings for humans
I miss him about 100 times a day. I come around the corner and expect to see him sprawled out on the floor. I glance in the rear-view mirror and miss his bearlike head blocking the view. A piece of cheese falls from the counter and it takes me a second to remember I have to pick it up.
About six weeks ago, we had to put down our beloved big beast of a dog.
Family and friends gathered around Rocky on the kitchen floor to say goodbye. We told our favourite stories, fed him hotdogs and some of us bawled our heads off more than others. My dog’s giant golden head lay in my lap as a lovely veterinarian did what had to be done.
In the days that followed, the cucumber slices on my puffy eyes did not help, but the nice notes did. Neighbours brought over flowers and wine.
I suspect the mailman has noticed my dog is gone. He’s likely not that broken up. Even at the end, my old mutt would drag his massive back end off the floor to try to get through the (locked) screen door to take down the mailman.
People are kind when your dog dies. Whether you’re hardcore non-pet, horribly allergic or a postal worker, you know how much dog people love their fur-kids.
I likely spent more time with Rocky over the last 10-plus years than pretty much any other mammal. Our daily routines were built around each other, we knew the other’s habits — good and bad — and we drove each other crazy. I loved that dog like crazy, too.
But did he love me back? Are dogs capable of that kind of thing? Sure, they’re happy to see us when we walk through the door because we feed and water them and take them on walks. They run to us in the park sporting big doggie grins because they know we’ll take care of them. After all, our dogs are the ones that veered away from the wolf pack for a liver treat and a belly rub.
“Dogs are special,” says author and scientist Gregory Berns. “They are the first domesticated animals. They have been with humans since humans have been humans.”
Berns, too, wondered whether his dogs loved him. And because he’s a neuroscientist, he built special MRI equipment to examine dogs’ brains as they took in different canine and human scents. When the dogs smelled their “familiar human,” the reward centre part of their brains lit up. Berns concluded that dogs have strong feelings for their humans.
“You don’t need an MRI to know that dogs (and other animals) experience emotions,” he wrote in Psychology Today. “Something as basic as the desire to approach stuff that is good for well-being, or to avoid things that are dangerous, is necessary to all animal life. (Charles) Darwin called these animal processes emotions, and so would I.”
In Rocky’s last months, he started lying butt-up against my desk so I’d have to Harry Houdini my way over him to go to the washroom. People kept telling me I’d know when it was time. “He’ll give you a sign,” they said.
Even though I’d been expecting it for months, it all happened really fast. One afternoon, Rocky simply couldn’t get up anymore. I called the vet.
It took me a few days before I could bequeath his big bag of kibble to Lucy, the Labrador across the street. It was a week before I could clean up the last few presents he left in the backyard. And it might be years before I remember, as the bit of cheese falls to the floor, that’s he not here anymore to gobble it up.