Inside Of A Dog Part 5

Mute

Pump sits close to me and quietly pants, gazing at me: she wants something. On our walks she tells me when we've gone far enough and she is ready to go back: she hops up, pivots on her rear legs, then beelines back from where we came. I turn on the bathwater, turn to her with a smile, and her tail drops and wags low, her ears flattening on her head. All this talking and yet no talking at all.

There is a certain poignancy in describing animals as our "dumb friends"; in noting the "blank bewilderment" of a dog; in nodding at their "uncommunicating muteness." These are familiar ways of talking about dogs, who never respond in kind as we speak to them. No small amount of dogs' winsomeness is the empathy that we can attribute to them as they silently contemplate us. Still, these characterizations, while evocative, seem to me to be outright flawed in two ways. First, it is not the animals who desire to speak and cannot, I suspect; it is that we desire them to talk and cannot effect it. Second, most animals, and dogs in particular, are neither blank of expression nor in fact mute. Dogs, like wolves, communicate with their eyes, ears, tail, and very posture. Far from pleasantly silent, they squeal, growl, grunt, yelp, moan, whine, whimper, bark, yawn, and howl. And that's just in the first few weeks.

Dogs talk. They communicate; they declare; they express themselves. This comes as no surprise; what is surprising is how often they are communicating, and in how many ways. They talk to each other, they talk to you, and they talk to noises on the other side of closed doors or hidden in high gra.s.ses. This gregariousness is familiar to us: having a large roster of communications is consistent with being social, as humans are. Those canids such as foxes, who do not live in a social group, appear to have a much more limited range of things to say. Even the kinds of sounds foxes make are indicative of their more solitary nature: they make sounds that travel well over long distances. Dogs' staunch unmuteness is expressed through making sounds bellowed and whispered. Vocalizations, scent, stance, and facial expression each function to communicate to other dogs and, if we know how to listen, to us.

OUT LOUD.

Two human beings stroll through a park chatting. They move with ease from commenting on the warmth of the air, to the nature of humans in positions of power, to expressions of mutual adoration, to reflections on past expressions of mutual adoration, to admonishment to observe the tree straight ahead. They do this primarily by making small, strange contortions of the shape of the cavities of their mouths, the placement of their tongues, by pushing air through the vocal tract and squeezing or widening their lips. Theirs is not the only communication going on. Over the course of a walk, the dogs by their sides may scold one another, confirm friendships, court each other, declare dominance, rebuff advances, claim ownership of a stick, or a.s.sert allegiance to their person. Dogs, like so many non-human animals, have evolved innumerable, non-language-driven methods to communicate with one another. Human facility at communication is unquestionable. We converse with an elaborate, symbol-driven language, quite unlike anything seen in other animals. But we sometimes forget that even non-language-using creatures might be talking up a storm.

What animals have are whole systems of behavior that get information from a sender (speaker) to a recipient (listener). That is all that is needed to call something a communication. It needn't be important, relevant, or even interesting information, but between animals it often is. Communication is only sometimes within our range of hearing, or even vocal: it is often made through body language-using limbs, head, eyes, tails, or the entire body-or even through such surprising forms as changing color, urinating and defecating, or making oneself larger or smaller.

We can spot a communication by noticing if, after one animal makes a noise or does an action, another responds to it by changing its behavior. Information has been imparted. What we'll miss, since we don't know the language of, say, spiders or sloths (though there are currently researchers trying to learn these communication systems), is those utterances that fall on deaf ears. Still, animals are constant gabbers. The discoveries of natural science over the last one hundred years have shown us the variety of guises in which this gabbing can appear. Birds twitter, peep, and sing songs-so do humpback whales. Bats emit high-frequency clicks; elephants, low-frequency rumbles. The wiggling dance of a honeybee communicates the direction, quality, and distance to food; a monkey's yawn conveys a threat. A firefly's flashes indicate his species; a poison-dart frog's coloration identifies his toxicity.

The kind we notice first is the one that most closely matches our own language: communication out loud.

DOG-EARED.

Thunder outside. Pump's ears, velvet equilateral triangles that fold perfectly along the side of her head, p.r.i.c.k into long isosceles. Head up, eyes to the window, she identifies the sound: a storm, a frightful thing. Her ears pivot back, flattened along her skull as if to hold them shut by their own force. I coo to her consolingly and watch her ears for feedback. The tips soften but she relaxes only slightly, still holding them tight against the roar.

Without prominent ears ourselves, we can envy dogs' proud ears. They come in a dazzling array of equally adorable variants: extremely long and lobular; small, soft, and perked; folding gracefully alongside the face. Dogs' ears may be mobile or rigid, triangular or rounded, floppy or upright. In most dogs, the pinna pinna-the outer, visible part of the ear-rotates to better open a channel from the sound source to the inner ear. The practice of cropping ears, severing the pinnae to make floppy ears stand upright, long mandated in many breed standards, is becoming less popular. This designing of dogs, sometimes defended as reducing infections, has unknown consequences in auditory sensitivity.

By natural design, dogs' ears have evolved to hear certain kinds of sounds. Happily, that set of sounds overlaps with those we can hear and produce: if we utter it, it will at least hit the eardrum of a nearby dog. Our auditory range is from 20 hertz to 20 kilohertz: from the lowest pitch on the longest organ pipe to an impossibly squeaky squeak.* We spend most of our time straining to understand sounds between 100 hertz and 1 kilohertz, the range of any interesting speech going on in the vicinity. Dogs hear most of what we hear and then some. They can detect sounds up to 45 kilohertz, much higher than the hair cells of our ears bother to bend to. Hence the power of the dog whistle, a seemingly magical device that makes no apparent sound and yet perks the ears of dogs for blocks around. We call this sound "ultrasonic," since it's beyond our ken, but it is within the sonic range for many animals in our local environment. Don't think for a moment that apart from the occasional dog whistle, the world is quiet for dogs up at those high registers. Even a typical room is pulsing with high frequencies, detectable by dogs constantly. Think your bedroom is quiet when you rise in the morning? The crystal resonator used in digital alarm clocks emits a never-ending alarm of high-frequency pulses audible to canine ears. Dogs can hear the navigational chirping of rats behind your walls and the bodily vibrations of termites within your walls. That compact fluorescent light you installed to save energy? You may not hear the hum, but your dog probably can.

The range of pitches we are most intent on are those used in speech. Dogs hear all sounds of speech, and are nearly as good as we are at detecting a change of pitch-relevant, say, for understanding statements, which end in a low pitch, versus questions, which in English end in a raised pitch: "Do you want to go for a walk(?)" With the question mark, this sentence is exciting to a dog with experience going on walks with humans. Without it, it is simply noise. Imagine the confusion generated by the recent growth of "up-talking," speech that ends every sentence with the sound of a question?

If dogs understand the stress and tones-the prosody prosody-of speech, does this hint that they understand language? This is a natural but vexed question. Since language use is one of the most glaring differences between the human animal and all other animals, it has been proposed as the ultimate, incomparable criterion for intelligence. This raises serious hackles in some animal researchers (not thought of as a hackled species, ironically), who have set about trying to demonstrate what linguistic ability animals have. Even those researchers who may agree that language is necessary for intelligence have nonetheless added reams of results to the growing pile of evidence of linguistic ability in non-human animals. All parties agree, though, that there has been no discovery of a humanlike language-a corpus of infinitely combinable words that often carry many definitions, with rules for combining words into meaningful sentences-in animals.

This is not to say that animals might not understand some of our language use, even if they don't produce it themselves. There are, for instance, many examples of animals taking advantage of the communicative system of nearby unrelated animal species. Monkeys can make use of nearby birds' warning calls of a nearby predator to themselves take protective action. Even an animal who deceives another animal by mimicry-which some snakes, moths, and even flies can do-is in some way using another species's language.

The research with dogs suggests that they do understand language-to a limited degree. On the one hand, to say that dogs understand words words is a misnomer. Words exist in a language, which itself is product of a culture; dogs are partic.i.p.ants in that culture on a very different level. Their framework for understanding the application of the word is entirely different. There is, no doubt, more to the words of their world than Gary Larson's is a misnomer. Words exist in a language, which itself is product of a culture; dogs are partic.i.p.ants in that culture on a very different level. Their framework for understanding the application of the word is entirely different. There is, no doubt, more to the words of their world than Gary Larson's Far Side Far Side comics suggest: eat, walk, and fetch. But he is on to something, insofar as these are organizing elements of their interaction with us: we circ.u.mscribe the dog's world to a small set of activities. Working dogs seem miraculously responsive and focused compared to city pets. It is not that they are innately more responsive or focused, but that their owners have added to their vocabularies types of things to do. comics suggest: eat, walk, and fetch. But he is on to something, insofar as these are organizing elements of their interaction with us: we circ.u.mscribe the dog's world to a small set of activities. Working dogs seem miraculously responsive and focused compared to city pets. It is not that they are innately more responsive or focused, but that their owners have added to their vocabularies types of things to do.

One component in understanding a word is the ability to discriminate it from other words. Given their sensitivity to the prosody of speech, dogs do not always excel at this. Try asking your dog on one morning to go for a walk; go for a walk; on the next, ask if your dog wants to on the next, ask if your dog wants to snow forty locks snow forty locks in the same voice. If everything else remains the same, you'll probably get the same, affirmative reaction. The very first sounds of an utterance seem to be important to dog perception, though, so changing the swallowed consonants for articulated ones and the long vowels for short ones- in the same voice. If everything else remains the same, you'll probably get the same, affirmative reaction. The very first sounds of an utterance seem to be important to dog perception, though, so changing the swallowed consonants for articulated ones and the long vowels for short ones-ma for a polk? for a polk?-might prompt the confusion merited by this gibberish. Of course humans read meaning into prosody, too. English does not give the prosody of speech syntactical leverage but it is still part of how we interpret "what has just been said."

If we were more sensitive to the sound sound of what we say to dogs, we might get better responses from them. High-pitched sounds mean something different than low sounds; rising sounds contrast with falling sounds. It is not accidental that we find ourselves cooing to an infant in silly, giddy tones (called of what we say to dogs, we might get better responses from them. High-pitched sounds mean something different than low sounds; rising sounds contrast with falling sounds. It is not accidental that we find ourselves cooing to an infant in silly, giddy tones (called motherese motherese)-and might greet a wagging dog with similar baby talk. Infants can hear other speech sounds, but they are more interested in motherese. Dogs, too, respond with alacrity to baby talk-partially because it distinguishes speech that is directed at at them from the rest of the continuous yammering above their heads. Moreover, they will come more easily to high-pitched and repeated call requests than to those at a lower pitch. What is the ecology behind this? High-pitched sounds are naturally interesting to dogs: they might indicate the excitement of a tussle or the shrieking of nearby injured prey. If a dog fails to respond to your reasonable suggestion that he come them from the rest of the continuous yammering above their heads. Moreover, they will come more easily to high-pitched and repeated call requests than to those at a lower pitch. What is the ecology behind this? High-pitched sounds are naturally interesting to dogs: they might indicate the excitement of a tussle or the shrieking of nearby injured prey. If a dog fails to respond to your reasonable suggestion that he come right now, right now, resist the urge to lower and sharpen your tone. It indicates your frame of mind-and the punishment that might ensue for his prior uncooperativeness. Correspondingly, it is easier to get a dog to resist the urge to lower and sharpen your tone. It indicates your frame of mind-and the punishment that might ensue for his prior uncooperativeness. Correspondingly, it is easier to get a dog to sit sit on command to a longer, descending tone rather than repeated, rising notes. Such a tone might be more likely to induce relaxation, or preparation for the next command from their talky human. on command to a longer, descending tone rather than repeated, rising notes. Such a tone might be more likely to induce relaxation, or preparation for the next command from their talky human.

There is one celebrated dog whose word usage is exceptional. Rico, a border collie in Germany, can identify over two hundred toys by name. Given an enormous heap of all the toys and b.a.l.l.s he has ever seen, he can reliably pull out and retrieve the one his owner requests. Now, putting aside why a dog might need two hundred toys, this ability is impressive. Children are hard-pressed to do the same task (and are only sometimes helpful in bringing things back). Even better, Rico can quickly learn a name for a new object, by process of elimination. Experimenters put a novel toy among familiar ones and asked him, using a word he had never heard before, to retrieve it. Go get the snark, Rico. Go get the snark, Rico. One would be sympathetic if he looked bemused, and wandered back with a favorite toy in his chops. Instead, though, Rico reliably picked out the new toy: One would be sympathetic if he looked bemused, and wandered back with a favorite toy in his chops. Instead, though, Rico reliably picked out the new toy: naming naming it. it.

Rico was not using language, of course, in the way we, or even young children, do. One can debate how much he was understanding, understanding, or if he was even doing anything other than showing a preference for the new object. On the other hand, he was showing an astute ability to satisfy the humans making various sounds by picking up the referents of those sounds. His ability might not indicate that all dogs are so able: Rico might be an unusually skilled word user* or if he was even doing anything other than showing a preference for the new object. On the other hand, he was showing an astute ability to satisfy the humans making various sounds by picking up the referents of those sounds. His ability might not indicate that all dogs are so able: Rico might be an unusually skilled word user*

-and he is definitely unusually motivated by the praise received on retrieving the right toy. Still, even if he were the only dog who does this, it indicates that the dog's cognitive equipment is good enough to understand language in the right context.

It is not only the express content or sound of speech that carries meaning. Being a competent language user means understanding the pragmatics of usage: how the means, form, and context of what you say also affect the meaning of what you say. Paul Grice, a twentieth-century philosopher, famously described various "conversational maxims," known to us implicitly, that regulate language use. Their use marks you as a cooperative speaker; even their express violation is often meaningful. They include the charming maxim of relation (be relevant), the maxim of manner (be brief and clear), and maxims of quality (tell the truth) and quant.i.ty (say only as much as you need to).

On a good day, dogs mind all of Grice's maxims. Consider a dog who espies a roguish-looking fellow down the street. The dog may bark (relevant: the guy is roguish-looking) sharply (quite unambiguous), but only as long as the fellow is around (so the warning bark is currently true), and not more than a few times (relatively pithy). While dogs hardly qualify as competent language users, it is notably not because of their violation of the pragmatics of communication. It is only the smallness of their vocabulary and restricted use of words in combination that disqualifies them.

Many owners lament that, by contrast to Rico, their dogs are not terrific listeners-despite their broad range of audition. To be fair, canids do not rely on hearing as their primary sense. Relative to even our hearing, their ability to pinpoint where a sound is coming from is imprecise. They hear sounds unmoored from their origins. And just like us, they must bring attention to a noise to hear it best-first apparent in the familiar tilt of the head, to direct the ears slightly toward the sound source, or in radar-dish adjustments of the pinnae. Instead of being used to "see" the source of the sound, their auditory sense seems to serve an ancillary function: helping dogs find the general direction of a sound, at which point they can turn on a more acute sense, like olfaction or even vision, to investigate further.

Dogs themselves make a variety of sounds across a range of pitches or differing only by subtle alterations in tempo or frequency. They are downright noisy.

THE OPPOSITE OF MUTE.

Her slow, light panting, mouth open partway, tongue purple and wet and perfect. Pump's panting was a conversation in and of itself-I always felt talked-to when she panted at me.

The cacophony of a packed dog run seems at first pa.s.s to be an undifferentiated racket. With closer attention, though, one can distinguish shouts from cries; yelps from barks; and play barks from threatening barks. Dogs make sounds both intentionally and inadvertently. Both kinds may hold information, the minimum requirement to call an aural disturbance a "communication" rather than simply "noise." What is interesting for scientists is determining the meaning of that information. Given the way dogs wield these noises, there is no doubt that they have different meanings.

Countless hours of researchers' lives spent listening to animals shout, coo, click, groan, and scream has led to the discovery of some universal features of sound signals. They either express something about the world-a discovery, a danger-or something about the signalers themselves-their ident.i.ty, s.e.xual status, rank, membership in a group, fear, or pleasure. They effect a change in others: they may decrease social distance between the signaler and those around him, calling someone closer; or increase social distance, frightening someone away. In addition, sounds may serve to cohere a group (in defense from a predator or intruder, for instance) or they may elicit maternal or s.e.xual affiliation. Ultimately, all these purposes for making sounds make evolutionary sense: they aid the animal in securing its survival or the survival of its relatives.

What, then, are dogs saying, and how are they saying it? The what what is answered by looking at the context of making a sound. The context includes not just the sounds around it but also the means: a screamed word winds up meaning something different than one intoned with a sultry whisper. A sound a dog makes while wagging merrily means something different than the same sound delivered through bared teeth. is answered by looking at the context of making a sound. The context includes not just the sounds around it but also the means: a screamed word winds up meaning something different than one intoned with a sultry whisper. A sound a dog makes while wagging merrily means something different than the same sound delivered through bared teeth.

The meaning of an uttered sound can also be identified by looking at what those who hear it do. Although human responses to an utterance (say, How are you?) How are you?) may range from the appropriate ( may range from the appropriate (I'm well, thanks) to the seeming non sequitur ( to the seeming non sequitur (Yes, we have no bananas have no bananas), there is reason to believe that dogs, and all non-human animals, respond ingenuously. In many cases, a sound will have a reliable effect on those in the vicinity: think Fire! Fire! or or Free money! Free money!

The how how of sound signaling is simple with dogs. Most of the sounds dogs make are oral: using or coming out of the mouth. At least, these are the sounds that we know about. These vocal sounds might be voiced, with vibration in the larynx-the airway used for breathing-or may be expiratory-part of an exhalation. Others are entirely unvoiced but use the mouth, such as the mechanical sound of tooth-snapping. Vocal sounds vary from one another along four easily audible dimensions. They vary in pitch (frequency): whines are nearly always high-pitched, while growls are low-pitched. Try and squeal out a growl and it becomes something else. They vary in duration: some are uttered once, quickly, lasting less than half a second; others are protracted sounds or are repeated again and again. Sounds vary in their shape: some are pure tones while others are more fractured, fluctuating or rising and falling. A howl has little variation for long periods, while barks are noisy, changeable sounds. Finally, they vary in loudness or intensity. Moans don't come in loud and yelps don't come in a whisper. of sound signaling is simple with dogs. Most of the sounds dogs make are oral: using or coming out of the mouth. At least, these are the sounds that we know about. These vocal sounds might be voiced, with vibration in the larynx-the airway used for breathing-or may be expiratory-part of an exhalation. Others are entirely unvoiced but use the mouth, such as the mechanical sound of tooth-snapping. Vocal sounds vary from one another along four easily audible dimensions. They vary in pitch (frequency): whines are nearly always high-pitched, while growls are low-pitched. Try and squeal out a growl and it becomes something else. They vary in duration: some are uttered once, quickly, lasting less than half a second; others are protracted sounds or are repeated again and again. Sounds vary in their shape: some are pure tones while others are more fractured, fluctuating or rising and falling. A howl has little variation for long periods, while barks are noisy, changeable sounds. Finally, they vary in loudness or intensity. Moans don't come in loud and yelps don't come in a whisper.

WHIMPERS, GROWLS, SQUEAKS, AND CHUCKLES.

She sees I'm almost ready. With her head fixed on the ground between her paws, Pump follows me with her eyes as I cross the room gathering my bag, a book, my keys. I scratch her around her ears in consolation and break for the door. She lifts her head and makes a sound: a plaintive yelp. I freeze. A look back and she hurries over, wagging. Okay, then; I guess she'll come with me.

The paradigmatic dog sound is the bark, but barks do not form the preponderance of most dogs' daily noisemaking, which includes high and low sounds, incidental sounds, even howls and chuckles. High-frequency sounds-cries, squeals, whines, whimpers, yelps, and screams-occur when the dog is in sudden pain or needs attention. These are some of the first sounds a puppy will make, which clues us in to their meaning: they tend to attract attention of the mother. A yelp yelp might come out of a puppy who was just stepped on, or who has wandered off. Deaf and blind, it is easier for mom to find her pup than vice versa. Having been reunited, some continue to yelp, winding down off their crying jag, when carried by their mothers. Yelps are different than might come out of a puppy who was just stepped on, or who has wandered off. Deaf and blind, it is easier for mom to find her pup than vice versa. Having been reunited, some continue to yelp, winding down off their crying jag, when carried by their mothers. Yelps are different than screams, screams, which in wolves prompt the mother to groom the pup, providing the contact that is necessary for normal development. which in wolves prompt the mother to groom the pup, providing the contact that is necessary for normal development. Cries Cries and and squeals squeals may be ignored by the mother, and so a particular squeal may be a less specifically meaningful utterance and instead a general-purpose sound used simply to see how others respond. may be ignored by the mother, and so a particular squeal may be a less specifically meaningful utterance and instead a general-purpose sound used simply to see how others respond.

Low moans moans or or grunts grunts are also very common in puppies, and seem not to be signs of pain but rather a kind of dog purr. There are snuffling moans and sighing moans-what some call "contentment grunts," and they all seem to mean about the same thing. Pups moan when they are in close contact with littermates, their mother, or a well-known human caretaker. The sound might be simply a result of heavy, slow breathing, which indicates it might not be intentionally produced: there is no evidence that dogs moan on purpose (neither is there evidence that they do not; neither has been proven). But whether they do or not, moans probably function to affirm the bond between family members, whether heard as a low vibration or felt through skin-to-skin contact. are also very common in puppies, and seem not to be signs of pain but rather a kind of dog purr. There are snuffling moans and sighing moans-what some call "contentment grunts," and they all seem to mean about the same thing. Pups moan when they are in close contact with littermates, their mother, or a well-known human caretaker. The sound might be simply a result of heavy, slow breathing, which indicates it might not be intentionally produced: there is no evidence that dogs moan on purpose (neither is there evidence that they do not; neither has been proven). But whether they do or not, moans probably function to affirm the bond between family members, whether heard as a low vibration or felt through skin-to-skin contact.

The rumble of a growl growl and the steady ominous and the steady ominous snarl, snarl, you won't need to be told, are aggressive sounds. Puppies do not tend to produce them, as puppies do not tend to initiate aggression. Part of what makes them aggressive is their low pitch: they are the kind of sounds that would come out of a large animal, rather than the high-pitched squeals of a small one. In an antagonistic (what in biology is called you won't need to be told, are aggressive sounds. Puppies do not tend to produce them, as puppies do not tend to initiate aggression. Part of what makes them aggressive is their low pitch: they are the kind of sounds that would come out of a large animal, rather than the high-pitched squeals of a small one. In an antagonistic (what in biology is called agonistic) agonistic) encounter with another animal, a dog wants to appear to be the bigger, more powerful creature-so he makes a big-dog sound. By making higher-pitched sounds, an animal sounds, simply, smaller: a friendly or appeasing noise, by contrast. Though aggressive in intent, growls are still encounter with another animal, a dog wants to appear to be the bigger, more powerful creature-so he makes a big-dog sound. By making higher-pitched sounds, an animal sounds, simply, smaller: a friendly or appeasing noise, by contrast. Though aggressive in intent, growls are still social social sounds, not just utterances produced when a dog feels fear or anger: for the most part, dogs do not growl at inanimate objects,* or even at animate objects that aren't faced or directed toward them. They are also subtler than we think: distinct growls, from rumble to nearly roaring, are used in different contexts. The growl of tug-of-war may sound fearsome, but it is nothing like the possessive warning snarled over a treasured bone. Play these growls back over a speaker set up right in front of a desirable bone and dogs in the vicinity will avoid the bone-even with no dog in sight. But if the speaker growls only play or stranger growls, nearby dogs go ahead and grab the unguarded bone. sounds, not just utterances produced when a dog feels fear or anger: for the most part, dogs do not growl at inanimate objects,* or even at animate objects that aren't faced or directed toward them. They are also subtler than we think: distinct growls, from rumble to nearly roaring, are used in different contexts. The growl of tug-of-war may sound fearsome, but it is nothing like the possessive warning snarled over a treasured bone. Play these growls back over a speaker set up right in front of a desirable bone and dogs in the vicinity will avoid the bone-even with no dog in sight. But if the speaker growls only play or stranger growls, nearby dogs go ahead and grab the unguarded bone.

Incidental sounds of dogs are sometimes produced so reliably in certain contexts that they have become effectively communicative. The play slap, play slap, an audible landing on the two forefeet at once, is an inevitable part of play. It conveys sufficient exuberance that it can be used by itself to ask a dog to play with you. Some dogs an audible landing on the two forefeet at once, is an inevitable part of play. It conveys sufficient exuberance that it can be used by itself to ask a dog to play with you. Some dogs chatter chatter their teeth in anxious excitement, and the clicking of teeth serves as a warning that the dog is wary. An exaggerated their teeth in anxious excitement, and the clicking of teeth serves as a warning that the dog is wary. An exaggerated shriek shriek on being nosed or bitten roughly in play can even become a ritualized deception, a way to get out of a social interaction that is making the dog uncertain. The on being nosed or bitten roughly in play can even become a ritualized deception, a way to get out of a social interaction that is making the dog uncertain. The snuffling snuffling sound created when reaching the head vertically up and sniffing for food around a human mouth can become not just a search for food but also a request for food. Even the noisy breathing created by lying so close as to have the nose pressed against another body comes to indicate a state of contented relaxation. sound created when reaching the head vertically up and sniffing for food around a human mouth can become not just a search for food but also a request for food. Even the noisy breathing created by lying so close as to have the nose pressed against another body comes to indicate a state of contented relaxation.

If you live with a hound, you are familiar with the howl. howl. From a staccato baying to a mournful wail, howling in dogs seems to be a behavior left over from their ancestors, living in social packs. Wolves howl when separated from the group, and also when setting out with the group for a hunt or in reunion afterward. A howl when alone is a communication seeking company; howling together may be simply a rallying cry or celebration of the group. It has a contagious component, leading others in the vicinity to pick it up in an impromptu fugue. We do not know what they are saying, to each other or to the moon. From a staccato baying to a mournful wail, howling in dogs seems to be a behavior left over from their ancestors, living in social packs. Wolves howl when separated from the group, and also when setting out with the group for a hunt or in reunion afterward. A howl when alone is a communication seeking company; howling together may be simply a rallying cry or celebration of the group. It has a contagious component, leading others in the vicinity to pick it up in an impromptu fugue. We do not know what they are saying, to each other or to the moon.

The most social of human sounds is the cackling laugh rumbling across the room. Do dogs laugh? Well, only when something is terrific fun. Yes, dogs have what has been called a laugh. It is not identical to human laughter, the spontaneous sounds spit out in response to something funny, surprising, or even frightening. Nor is it as variable as the cackles, giggles, and twitters that we produce. The dog laugh is a breathy exhalation that sounds like an excited burst of panting. We could call it social panting: social panting: it is a pant only heard when dogs are playing or trying to get someone to play with them. Dogs don't seem to laugh to themselves, off sitting in the corner of the room, recollecting how that tawny dog in the park outsmarted her human this morning. Instead, dogs laugh when interacting socially. If you have played with your dog, you have probably heard it. In fact, doing your own social panting toward a dog is one of the most effective ways to elicit play. it is a pant only heard when dogs are playing or trying to get someone to play with them. Dogs don't seem to laugh to themselves, off sitting in the corner of the room, recollecting how that tawny dog in the park outsmarted her human this morning. Instead, dogs laugh when interacting socially. If you have played with your dog, you have probably heard it. In fact, doing your own social panting toward a dog is one of the most effective ways to elicit play.

Just as our laughs are often inadvertent, reflexive responses, so may dog laughs be: simply the kind of panting that results when you're throwing your body around in play. Though it might not be under the control of the dog, social panting does seem to be a sign of enjoyment. And it may induce enjoyment-or at least alleviate stress-in others: playing a recording of the sounds of dog laughter at animal shelters has been found to reduce barking, pacing, and other signs of stress in the dogs housed there. Whether mirth feels like what it does in humans is yet to be studied.

WOOF.

I can remember the first time a bark came out of Pump, when she was maybe three years old. She'd been so quiet until then, and then one day, after spending time with her barky German shepherd friend, a bark popped out of her. It was bark like like more than a bark, as though a sound that stood for a bark but wasn't itself the real thing: a well-articulated more than a bark, as though a sound that stood for a bark but wasn't itself the real thing: a well-articulated rurph! rurph! accompanied by a little leap off her front legs and a madly wagging tail. She refined this splendid display somewhat through the years, but it always felt like a new dog thing she was trying on. accompanied by a little leap off her front legs and a madly wagging tail. She refined this splendid display somewhat through the years, but it always felt like a new dog thing she was trying on.

It is regrettable that barks tend to be such loud affairs. The bark is shouted. While a calm conversation between the two strollers in the park might register about 60 decibels, dog barks begin at 70 decibels and a stream of barks may be punctuated with spikes to 130 decibels. Increases in decibels, the unit of measurement of the loudness of sounds, are exponential: an increase of 10 decibels describes a hundredfold rise in the experience of the strength of a sound. One hundred and thirty decibels is up there with thunderclaps and plane takeoffs. The bark is momentary, but it is a moment of displeasure for our ears. The reason this is regrettable is that there is, most dog researchers agree, much information in those barks. Given the relative scarcity of barking in wolves, some theorize that dogs have developed a more elaborate barking language precisely in order to communicate with humans. If we consider barks as all cut from the same cloth, though, they are likelier to annoy than to communicate.

Researchers might not call barks "annoying," but they call them "chaotic" and "noisy." "Chaotic" is a good description for the variability in the kinds of sounds within each bark; "noisy" means not just disagreeably loud disagreeably loud but also but also having having fluctuations in its structure. fluctuations in its structure. Barks are loud, and different barks have varying numbers of harmonic components, depending on the context in which the bark is used. Barks are loud, and different barks have varying numbers of harmonic components, depending on the context in which the bark is used.

Still, of the sounds dogs make, barks come closest to speech sounds. The dog's bark is, like the phonemes of speech, produced by vibrations in the vocal folds and air flowing along the folds and through the mouth cavity. Perhaps because they are in overlapping frequencies-from 10 hertz to 2 kilohertz-with the sounds of speech, we are inclined to look for speechlike meaning in them. We even name the bark using phonemes from our language: the dog "woofs," "rufs," "arfs," or (although no dog I know says it) "bow-wows." The French hear the dog "ouah-ouah"; Norwegian dogs voff-voff; voff-voff; Italian dogs go Italian dogs go bau-bau. bau-bau.

Some ethologists think that barking is not fundamentally communicating anything, though: that it is "ambiguous" and "meaningless." This view is encouraged by the difficulty of deciphering what the meaning of the barks could be, since sometimes dogs bark without an obvious prompt or audience, or continue to bark long after any message therein would have been conveyed. Think of the dog barking continuously, dozens of times in a row, in front of another dog: If there is meaning in that bark, would not one or two repet.i.tions do to convey it?

This strikes at the heart of the trouble in determining the subjective experience of an animal of which you cannot ask questions. Each moment of an animal's behavior is scrutinized for its meaning. Surely few human actions could bear such scrutiny and yield a correct a.s.sessment of the human. If you were to videotape me practicing, at home in front of my dog, a speech I am to deliver later in the day, you might well conclude that (a) I believe the dog can understand what I'm saying, or