The self as a wolf

 

I am watching a video of three wolves, standing in a winter landscape, sometime midday. The camera follows one as it licks the chops of a larger male, wags its tail, and then licks the chops of a third wolf entering from stage left. The large one, off camera, begins to howl, and the other two join it briefly before the first wolf, our subject, realizes that they are being watched by the camera, and hurriedly runs to the camera, wagging its tail all the way.

            These wolves are animals that share a common ancestor with dogs. In fact, they are so closely related to dogs that biologists classify them as being two subspecies of the same family – wolves (Canis lupus) and dogs (Canis lupus familiaris).

            I am watching a video of three dogs, they are all from different families, so they only get to play with each other at the park. These dogs – a golden retriever, a husky, and a corgi – treat each other like the wolves do. They lick chops, they wag their tails, they howl in chorus with one another, they chase the same prey together (although, the prey in this case is a tennis ball). These animals, when looking at their behavior, are the same as the wolves. Even down to the same behavior when the camera owner calls for her golden retriever – it perks up, hurriedly runs to the camera, wagging its tail all the way.

            What would the wolves say to the dogs if they could speak? “Why do you live with that pack? The one on two legs? Why do you not love the wild as we do?”

            I don’t think so.

            Wild wolves, if they had to chance to speak to our dogs, would be understanding. After all, they are dogs. Fifteen thousand years ago, in several different places, wolves – or, rather, the animal that one day would become wolves – wandered into human societies. They joined us, or we joined them, or we became dogs as they became humans. We care for them as though they are us, we give them elaborate rituals and rights, we model gods after them, we bury them so that we might see them again in the next world. In turn, they care for us as they know how; they bark when they see danger, they refuse to leave our sides when we are sick, they bring us toys so we can play with them. They learn to work for us, fetching prey as we shoot it from the sky, watching over our flocks when we cannot, guarding our homes with their acute senses.

            Of course, wolves do all of this too. Protecting their pack, watching their cubs, caring for each other the only way they know how.

            So, I think the wolves would say to the dogs, “What a fine pack you have! They care for you and they make sure you are safe. You are dry when it rains and you eat when you are hungry. When you are hurt they seek care, although we don’t understand this care either. What more could you or I ask for?

            But stay away from our hunting grounds.”