16 August, 1916: "Lola, rap something!" "mal one lif unartig sein."

"What is the meaning of 'lif'? do you mean 'when you ran'?" (lief = ran, the past tense of laufen = to run). "no." "Did you learn that word from me?" "yes." "Then explain yourself." "ich rante in wald zu re" ( = I ran in the wood after deer). Apparently she was in no mood for explanations, and it was only after wrestling with her that I could get any sequence of words at all. At other times when urged to get on with the subject she will in her contrariness rap as follows: "o zu ich" or "e wo zu" or "zum zu wozu" or "we" and so on--letters with which it is rarely possible to put together even such small words as _wo_ ( = where) or _zu_ ( = to, or for) and the longer one persists on such occasions, the more senseless her remarks become; it is the rarest thing for her to suddenly pull herself together so as to give a proper answer. And here again I can find no excuse for her behaviour; though it may be that she dislikes my persistence, and therefore has recourse to any nonsense by way of a quick reply! So as to get her in some manner to recognize the errors of her ways I have again and again persevered with the utmost patience, so as to arrive at some consistent answer--yet all I have succeeded in arousing, has been increased reluctance on the dog's part.

MATTERS WHICH--SO FAR--ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR, OR UNEXPLAINED

As will, indeed, be evident, there is still much that remains unexplained; much that it will be the task of the future to throw light upon. Tests which have been but uncertain in their results; accidental discoveries, the importance of which only becomes evident, after the results have been tested in connexion with a number of animals. Among these may be placed the more recent experiments dealing with the sense of scent, undertaken by Professor Jaeger, and in this category should be placed also what I think to be a rather interesting test connected with Lola: I was at the time staying with my family at Hohenheim, and I asked the dog how many pups her mother had had--including herself: she answered "12." I inquired of Professor Kraemer if this was so, and he said that at the time at which he had seen them there had only been eleven. I then made the same inquiry in Mannheim, and found that there had been twelve, but that one had died immediately after birth. It was the only instance of which Lola knew about a dog having pups, so one day I asked her in fun (19 June, 1916). "How many children will you have?" (Thinking that the answer would be 12). At first she replied with "yes!" "Do you know how many? why that's impossible!" But she rapped "9." "How many boys?" I asked. "3." "And how many girls?" "6." I thought that this statement was due merely to her desire to make some answer, so I put the same question the next day--but the reply was again, "9." So I told my friend about this and we awaited the interesting event in much suspense--it took place on the 22 June, 1916, in the presence of my friend, the housekeeper and myself and--_there were nine puppies_! two males and seven little lady-dogs. I kept two of each, the others being put to death at once by one of the farm hands, for--owing to the war, as well as to the fact that the pups were not thoroughbreds, I could not undertake to bring them all up. But, the question is--how could Lola have known that there would be nine?[21]

[21] At a meeting held by the Rolf Society at Stuttgart, Professor Ziegler accounted for this accurate knowledge by declaring that--prior to birth--the puppies lie in a row within their mother's womb, and that if one moves, the others proceed to move also, but only one after the other.

ALTERATIONS IN CHARACTER

As a result of all that has here been stated, the question may very naturally arise: are there any indications such as lead to suspect a change of character, or do any other practical results follow on these educational tests? Now, Lola is by nature lovable, lively, full of fun, and she has retained these traits to the present day. Her great excitability has diminished, it is true, but this is probably due to her having grown more staid with years. Yet a difference is also to be found where her character--her dog-soul--is in question: it may be noticed in the suspicious way in which she now regards people, as though she were "drawing comparisons" between them and herself. We have, in fact, fallen somewhat in her estimation. She "asks"--so to speak--as to where our vaunted superiority may lie, and would seem to compare her newly-acquired knowledge--together with the existence forced upon her--with the life that is ours. Since she has made these "educational advances" one can often see in her eyes something that amounts to an angry reproach--something like an impatient question, as to _why_ we have so much food and freedom as compared with what is meted out to her. She follows our thoughts to a great extent, and our abilities no longer seem to impress her, since--to her--it is only those which she herself has mastered that come under this heading at all, and here--a slight contempt for the "oppressor" is often discernable. There is also a greater show of independence and frequent contrariness, owing to her diminished respect for our "species," in short--it becomes more difficult to deal with the dog. The days of blind confidence are past--even though an innate sense of devotion to man remains, for what has just been said, seems always to occur more as the result of "moments of reflection." Indeed, this entire educational process would have little that is joyful about it, were it not for the feeling that the animal understands its friend, and is in a position to converse with us within certain limits, and this outweighs and compensates for all the rest!

As to the practical results--I can say little that is favourable. The dog's _thinking_ seems to be at variance with her acts: thought can therefore, have little influence upon a dog's behaviour, for--as has been the case with dogs of every kind, from time immemorial--its actions are due to the excitement of the outer senses, such as scent, taste, and hearing, and any emotions observable are but the direct and inward continuation of those external sensations, and, as such, last but for a given time. What we may term the "thought form" that is bound to any given _word_, representing objective thought in its simplest form, rotates within a very limited circle, and is powerless over the animal's feeling. For instance: Lola knows that she is forbidden to "hunt" i.e. to go after the game, etc., indeed she has shown in many of her replies that she is well aware of what "totgeschossen" ( = to be shot dead) means. And yet--once the scent is up, off she goes, and nothing will prevent her--for, she _must_ go!

This is a particularly strong characteristic which beating and being deprived of her food may sometimes _check_, but which her own powers of reflection do not cure: and it is the same thing with most of her faults. At times it will be unreasoning obstinacy, but even where she uses a certain amount of reflection, the _result_ is identical. It has been no better where--with the help of thought--we have endeavoured to bring about actual results. An animal can be got to understand and carry out certain injunctions, such as--"sit up and beg," "lift up your paw," "go to your bed," "go out of the door," and much more of the same description, while after instruction it will understand "behind the stove lies a biscuit," yet _action_ seldom results from such knowledge. The dog's eyes will brighten, and it is evident that it has perfectly well comprehended the meaning of the words, indeed--this much can be easily ascertained by questioning it--but the dog will seem incapable of translating what it has comprehended into action. At such times Lola will rush about, as if her limbs would not obey--as though the influence she could bring to bear on them was not sufficiently powerful--and the final result is excitement. Connexion with the motor-nerves does not come into being in response to the action of the cerebrum. As the result of repeated written and spoken orders it is possible (with a certain amount of additional aid) to set up this connexion from without, yet, even then, the actual effect is but moderately successful. On the other hand, action in the reverse way--from the nerves or senses to the brain--is easy where the dog is concerned. Lola can report about things she has done, such as--"saw deer," "drank milk," "went into wood," "was naughty," "ate some of the cow," for reflection gives more time to master the subject, and to notice what is past, and this will therefore show, that in the way of practical results, the best will be those obtained by asking a dog what he has seen, heard, or scented, etc. Indeed, it is along these lines that the police dogs have proved their worth and importance. Yet it is very necessary that one should make sure that one's dog is not a liar, but an animal capable of taking up its job in the right manner. With our present knowledge, however, we are unlikely to achieve very much, since we cannot say to a dog--"go here or there"--or--"take this letter to so and so."

Not but what dogs have--in exceptional cases and after training--learnt to carry out such instructions, but it has resulted _without their thought-activity having been developed_. They get familiar with a certain road, and--basket in mouth--they will proceed to the baker's but--independently of habit and external impression--by the mere appeal to the brain or by means of the most persuasive words, we can attain to nothing worth mentioning, nothing that could be of distinct value, where a dog is kept for use. The sense, the object, and the reason for this educational work must be sought on other grounds.

A VARIETY OF ANSWERS

It was some time after Lola had mastered the art of spelling before I was able to get her to make independent replies. The first of these was given on the 13 April, 1916, and from that time onward they became easier and more frequent: most of those I have set down date from that period. These answers were at once noted, according to their numerals, and when the sentence was complete it was transposed into letters of the alphabet. Whenever there were any spelling mistakes, the words were placed before her, and she was told to name each successive wrong letter in reading over her answer. As _I_ knew the equivalent letters, I was able to write them down at once, and if the reply was a short one and no paper at hand, I could memorize the letters, and enter them in a book as soon as the lesson was over--adding the questions to which such answers had been given as well as the dates. All other questions and answers, as well as particulars relating to new exercises were also set down here.

Here is an answer I received from her on the 13 April, 1916: Lola was staying with me at Hohenheim, where we had arrived on the previous day, and I proceeded to Stuttgart in the morning. When I got home in the evening I asked Lola: "Is it nice here? have you had good food at father's?" to which the answer--quite wide of the mark--was--"wo wald?"

( = where is the wood?) For I had been telling her about all she would be able to enjoy and that, among other delights, there would be the woods; as however, her afternoon walk had only lain through the fields, her mind was now absorbed with the one idea--"where was the wood?"--to the oblivion of everything else.

15 April: On this day the written question was put to her: "Why does Lola like going in the woods?" the reply was at once forthcoming, and I dictated it to Frau Professor Kindermann. "Where there is wood also deer and hare"--she was not quite clear in her spelling at first, indeed, in this respect she sometimes reminds one of a foreigner--as also in the matter of her grammatical mistakes.

The next day, after having done a few sums to please some friends who were present, she was asked: "Who is the dog in the room?" "I!" she replied--not "Lola" as we had all expected. (Rolf has as yet never alluded to himself as "I"!)

Two days later she was asked in writing: "How many dogs can reckon and spell?" To this she began her reply in a very brisk and lively mood, but soon wavered, as though at a loss for the right expressions, then followed a short pause--and finally she resumed her rapping with renewed animation. The reply, it will be noticed, is detailed, and does not keep to the plain question that had been put. "how many have been taken (for it)? Rolf talks, counts; two more" (short pause) "I also, also heinz and ilse." For, so as to fire her ambition, I had told her about her brother and sister, Heinz and Ilse.

19 April: "Lola," I asked, "what was it that ran away from you on the meadow?" "cat!" "What did you want to do with the poor cat?" "kill!"

"Have you no pity?" "no!" "Then is the cat right if she kills you?"

"_no!_" "Why?" (The reply to this was rapped indistinctly.) "Have you no pity for any man or animal?" "for dog!"...

22 April: I had told her that my brother was coming, and that he wore a field-grey coat and was a soldier. When he arrived I said to her: "Who is this?" "Your brother."

Next day she was asked in writing: "What did Lola see swimming in the water?" "duck!" I had shown her a duck on the previous afternoon.

26 April: On this day Lola appeared before Professors Kraemer, Mack, Kindermann and Ziegler, of Hohenheim, which resulted in these gentlemen forwarding the following statement to the "Mitteilungen fur Tierpsychologie" ( = Communications respecting the psychology of Animals), series 1916; Number 1, p. 11:

"EXAMINATION OF LOLA BY PROFESSORS KRaMER, MACK, KINDERMANN AND ZIEGLER

"In our presence Lola solved a number of sums, such as: 5 + 8 = 13.

30 + 10 - 15 = 25. 4 Mark - 1 mark 20 = 2 mark. 80.

"She next counted the number of persons present. After this, several dots were scattered about a sheet of paper: at first she put their number down as 19--but corrected this to 18. Lola then told us the time: it was 4.16m., and after this she did some spelling. When shown the picture of a flower she rapped: "blum"

(Blume = flower), and to my somewhat faulty drawing of a cat she responded with "tir" (Tier = animal), while finally to the question of what was the name of the Mannheim dog she replied "mein fadr"

(Vater = father)--we all having expected her to say Rolf. Then followed the musical tests which amazed us most of all, for here she exhibited an ability lacking in many an individual."

27 April: Lola very tired: groans and does everything wrong. I said: "Are you lazy?" She replies "no." "Then why are you answering so badly?" "go!" "Who is to go?" "_tired!_"

29 April: I asked Lola why she had not attended to me on the 22nd, when--on a country expedition we had made together--she had insisted on running after the game when I had called her back. I had had to hunt after her for ten hours the next day, finding her--by the merest chance--at a peasant's house. She had settled down there alongside of a sheep-dog to watch the sheep, and seemed by no means pleased to see me; usually she is delighted! Her reply on this occasion was--"Lola went in wood, also lay down and was hungry." I returned to the question later in the afternoon when she made the rejoinder--"sought, didn't find."

30 April: Once more I returned to the incident mentioned above and Lola answered "to marry a dog"--(the consequences of this escapade becoming apparent, when Lola presented us with her litter of pups on 22 June).

Then Lola added a spontaneous remark on her own account for, seeing a biscuit in my hand, she rapped "I to eat!"

On 1 May little was forthcoming in the matter of arithmetic--with which we always began our lessons, for Lola rapped: "too tired."

3 May: In reply to my question as to what she had had to eat at the peasant's house she said: "milk."

The next day I asked her "where is my friend living now?" to which she answered. "Hanhof." (N.B. A name under which she includes the entire district). "What is the colour of the woods now?" And she answered.

"Green." Then "Why are you looking at me so crossly?" "We." "In your head?" "Yes." "What has given you a headache?" "Learning."

8 May: Lola had been rolling herself about in some frightfully smelly mess--a thing she, like other dogs, never loses an opportunity of doing. "Do you _like_ that smell?" I asked. "Yes!" "But don't you know quite well that I do _not_ like it?" "Yes!" "Then why do you always do it again and again?" "I love it so!" The same afternoon, after her musical tests, the maid came into the room to lay the fire. "What is Katchen doing at the stove?" I asked. "Fire," replied Lola.

The next day: "Lola! who do you like best of all people and animals?"

"Ich!" (1). "If you mean _yourself_ you should say "mich" (myself)", so she at once rapped "mich!" "And after yourself?" "Dich!" ("thee," the familiar of you commonly used in German). A frank remark, at all events, and without the taint of human egoism!

10 May: Lola has been gnawing a bone: not knowing of what animal it was, I put the question to her and she replied: "re" (reh = deer). The truth of this being confirmed in the kitchen. I then asked: "What bones do you like best--deer, hares, wuzl" (this is her own name for a pig), "or ox?" Answer: "Wuzl!" "Are you pleased that you know more than other dogs?" "No." And then--as though after due reflection--"no!"

(_Emphatically._)

11 May: I showed Lola a biscuit, shaped rather imperfectly in the form of a fish, saying: "What is this--an animal that swims in the water?"

Reply: "Fish!" In this case I do not think she had really recognized it, but had named the only animal she knew of connected with water, which--after all--was rather clever of her!

12 May: "Lola!" I asked, "would you like to be a human being?" "No."

"Why not?" I asked--showing her a biscuit. She (promptly): "I eat!"

"No! not till you have answered!" "Because of work!" A little later I said: "Do you belong to me Lola?" Very energetically--"No!" "To whom do you belong then?" "To myself." "And to whom do I belong? do I belong to you?" "No!" "Whose Henny am I?" "Your own!" These amusing answers bear the very impress of the animal's sense of independence: she is loth to be considered a "chattel," like some chair or table!

17 May: In the presence of my friend and of two dogs I asked her--"Lola, why don't you like d.i.c.k?" (d.i.c.k being one of the dogs present.) "Too wild!" was Lola's comment. "What do you like best to eat?" "Ich ese wi so mag!" "Is that quite correct?" "No." "Which word should be different?" "4!" "Then what should it be?" "Ich." "So it is to be: ich esse wie ich mag?" "Ja!" ( = I eat as (or what) I choose.)

31 May: Lola did her sums badly, and I spoke very seriously to her; after which she improved, rapping out an independent remark: "say I am good!" She wanted to hear that I was ready to "make it up" again! That evening, some friends being present--I wrote on a sc.r.a.p of paper--"bon jour!" showed it to her for a moment and then removed it, saying: "now rap what you have read!" And she rapped: "bon jur!" Having only missed out the "o"; the word had not been spoken, so that I had naturally thought to see the "o" among the other letters.