Why I talk to dogs
Facebook tells me that talking to my dog is a sign of intelligence. Whew. I talk not only to my dog but to all dogs. Out loud. In public. Their tethered humans might think I鈥檓 crazy, but I can鈥檛 help it. And now I know it鈥檚 smart.
鈥淭hank you for saying hello to me,鈥� I say to the miniature poodle springing up and down in spirals in the elevator.
鈥淢ac! Mac, come see me!鈥� I yell to Angie鈥檚 labradoodle on the sidewalk.
鈥淗enry!鈥� I say to my own dog. 鈥淗ere comes that German shepherd. Hang tight. Let 鈥檌m sniff. Uh-oh. That scrappy spitz. Just go around him.鈥�
The word for this is anthropomorphism. Facebook quoted behavioral scientist Nicholas Epley, a University of Chicago anthropomorphism expert. He says that I and others like me are showing signs of 鈥渋ntelligent social cognition鈥� in talking to pets. Because humans are social creatures, we talk to things we love in order to be social, to have friends. For thousands of years, dogs have adapted as companions to humans. They want to bond with us, be a part of the family, please us. They even want to talk to us, which is why they bark.
Somewhere along the evolutionary highway, dogs learned to bark to communicate with their human packs. Dogs evolved from wolves. Wolves howl. They don鈥檛 bark.
Literature is full of talking animals. Some are called fables as in Aesop鈥檚 鈥淭he Hare and the Tortoise,鈥� in which the animals challenge each other to a race. Some are fairy tales 鈥� the big bad wolf misleading a red-caped girl in the woods. Snakes and donkeys converse with humans in the Bible. The Quran says Solomon had the ability to communicate with birds. How could all these stories be based on non-facts? Perhaps humans once chitchatted with both household pets and wild animals.
Henry, a West Highland terrier stud, was retired at age 7. His official registered name was Clipper. My friend John drove me to Indiana鈥檚 Amish country to fetch the castoff sire. I sat in the back seat with the dog on the way home so I could talk to him, bond.
鈥淗e鈥檚 not responding to the name 鈥楥lipper,鈥� 鈥� John said. 鈥淚鈥檒l bet they never called him that. They just bred him. Why don鈥檛 you call him something like Henry?鈥�
And so I did. All the way home to Chicago. The next morning I hollered, 鈥淗enry?鈥� He ran from the next room and jumped in my lap. We鈥檝e been conversing ever since.
I suspect that the non-pet owners who find me talking to Henry when the elevator door opens haven鈥檛 heard of Dr. 颅Epley鈥檚 research. To them, I鈥檓 just the batty pensioner with the fluffy white dog on the third floor. But I know better.
I talk to animals.
