The truth about what our pets really think of us
Like most of Britain’s 18 million dog and cat owners, I spend a great deal of time with my pets. Ellroy, 5, a working cocker spaniel, his son Larkin, almost one, and my ancient cat Cowpatch, 20, are my constant companions. As an empty-nester, I now invest all my leftover parenting energy into singing made-up songs (“You mustn’t chase the postman” is a favourite), kissing velvety noses, indulging in lengthy cuddling sessions and dispensing treats.
But despite my adoration, I still don’t know exactly how they feel about me. Am I their beloved owner, needed and admired? Or am I simply a dumb mark, easily manipulated to maximise their enjoyment of life?
Many pet owners have wondered the same - and now, a new six-part BBC Four documentary, How we Tamed the Cat and Dog (Cat Tales and Dog Tales), aims to answer the fundamental question of whether they need us as much as we need them. It explores how our incredible bond with cats and dogs developed, tracing their evolution from wolves darting through snowy forests and leopards lounging in trees, to the fluffy biscuit-gobblers with whom we now share our homes, hearts and clean pillows.
All domestic dogs are descended from the grey wolf – their earliest ancestors lived around 12-16000 years ago, according to the archaeologists who have found remains alongside human settlements. The friendlier wolves began to follow humans; over time, less aggressive genes were bred in, and the dogs we know today began to evolve, initially into husky-like creatures.
Whoever got spaniels going was obviously breeding for insane levels of friendliness coupled with the ability to turn stone deaf when something smells interesting. Mine will throw themselves upside down to be tickled by any passing stranger, but should a distant vole emit a brief scent, they’re over the horizon like Formula One cars.
According to the programme’s scientists, “though wolf traits gradually changed as dogs evolved, their noses stayed the same, with 50 times as many olfactory sensors as humans and a sense of smell 10,000 times more accurate than ours.”
This might explain why Ellroy has an almost supernatural ability to find a tennis ball – once, mortifyingly, under a friend’s bed. But while smell, stamina, sight, and smooth temperaments made dogs perfect hunting companions, it’s something else entirely that makes them appear so emotionally responsive: their eyebrows. My dogs use theirs to full advantage, running the entire Gromit gamut from smiling to surprised, guilty to puzzled (something cats can’t do, more on this later).
Again, this ability evolved as dogs pulled away from their wolf ancestors, according to research from the University of Portsmouth. “Dogs have an eyebrow-area muscle group not present in wolves, that attracts human attention, and makes the eyes larger and more infant-like,” says a researcher.
Recently, Ellroy ate an entire pizza that I’d left on the stove top for two minutes – and I found it extremely difficult to stay annoyed as his expression of abject guilt rendered him as adorable as any cartoon mutt.
But while we’re prompted to look after them, dogs have also learned to look after us - one research project in the documentary shows service dogs learning to press a button to summon help for their owners. And yes, of course food is involved in the training; which leads to the eternal question: do dogs love us for ourselves, or for our power over their food supply?
An astonishing experiment from Emory University in Atlanta may answer the question. Dr Gregory Burns’ team trains dogs to lie in an MRI machine which scans their brains as they’re shown pre-learned cues for food or praise. The scans demonstrate conclusively that praise lights up the dopamine “reward” areas of the brain much more comprehensively than the food, proving that “the social bond is intrinsically rewarding - dogs just seem to like people.”
They are also “indiscriminately affectionate” to other species (as anyone who has weepily watched that online clip of a sheepdog protecting baby chicks will know).
Which brings us to cats – our other most-loved pet, with 10 million in the UK alone. Where dogs are an open book, cats are an ancient text in impenetrable hieroglyphics. Yet still they affect us profoundly, with one experiment shown in the programme revealing that the same human brain area lights up at a cat’s meow as it does when a baby cries; sensing need and turning on our “nurture” response.
Unlike dogs, however, cats are often considered manipulative, and it’s true that mine will send up a great wail of sorrow when he wants his tea – adult cats only meow at humans, never each other, purely because “they know it works,” explains one vet.
Cats’ faces are also unreadable, purely because they can’t frown - they lack dogs’ eyebrow muscles. They also stare, which can be seen as “malevolent” and “disrespectful” - and may explain why one thirteenth century pope declared cats to be in league with Satan.
But though we can’t accurately read them, they can read us. A fascinating experiment shown on the documentary reveals that cats respond more positively to a smile than an angry expression, and their reactions are even more intense when it’s their owner. They also say a great deal with body language, from ears to tail. (If Cowpatch bats violently at my arm, he wants his head scratched.)
Cats evolved from leopards, lions and tigers, with their most recent ancestor, the wild cat, prowling the plains around 3.4 million years ago. All domestic cats are related to the North African wild cat, and share many of the same characteristics. As they’re relatively small, they rely on stealth, and feel safest high up. When I first moved in with my partner, in fact, he built “cat shelves” seven feet up the wall, so Cowpatch could trundle up and down like a furry gondola, high above the dog.
Cats became close to humans during the agricultural revolution, 10,000 years ago, in the ‘fertile crescent’ of the Middle East, when their rodent-catching skills were highly prized. Some cats, however, don’t mind what they catch. My old cat, Mabel, kept an impressive collection of large, dead leaves in her basket, while, as one interviewee says, “Rita brought a piece of stale toast in from the garden,” eyeing his cat with weary pride.
But contrary to common belief, they are not bringing us their dead rodents and bits of old toast as gifts. According to the programme’s cat behaviourist, our moggies are dragging them inside simply because they feel safer on home territory. As for the half-eaten mouse that Cowpatch recently left in Ellroy’s bed, it was presumably a Mafia-style warning.
“Cats are partially domesticated,” says the behaviourist, “but they still have that wild heart.”
Perhaps it's fair to say that cats are loved because we don't understand them, and dogs are loved precisely because we do. And as the owner of both, nothing makes me happier than seeing the three of them cuddling up together – a sure sign that even cats can adapt.
Dog Tales: The Making Of Man’s Best Friend is on BBC Four from tonight at 9pm
