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
Kätchen 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 Dick?" (Dick 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 scrap 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.
2 June: Lola was to write a letter to a lady whose daughter had been
staying with me on a visit. The dog was much attached to this young
lady, and had frequently worked with her. She began her letter with all
sorts of nonsense so that at length I said: "First rap 'dear' and then
tell her about the biscuits you had from Irene."
The letter: "Dear, certainly Irene is very nice to me" ... then "were"
... "What's the meaning of that?" I interrupted, but Lola lay down and
said "Zu we!" ( = too indisposed.)
3 June: "Will you work now?" "No--we!" "Where have you a pain?" "O
sag!" "What am I to say?" "Oh seh!" "But what am I to see?" "Ich!" "I
am to look and see where you have a pain?" "Yes, yes!" But these
"pains" seemed to have been called forth by laziness and possibly some
slight fatigue.
15 June: A lady has come to stay with me for a few days and I said to
Lola: "Why do you like Fräulien Grethe?" "Ich is zu artig." (This is
indistinct but probably meant she is kind to me.) Presumably she could
think of nothing else to say.
25 June: Lola had been brought indoors--away from her young family, and
I said: "Is there anything you would like to have in the stable, now
think?" "wenig uzi!" "What is uzi? do you mean music?" Answer. "Lid"
( = lied.) "What is that--singing?" "Yes!" "Do you like to listen to us
when we sing?" "Yes, yes!"
24 July: "Lola! now think of something I am to do: give me an order!"
(By the way, in reply to a similar question put to Rolf by the wife of
Colonel Schweizerbarth, at Degerloch, he had commanded her to "wedeln"
( = to wag!) N.B. This word being only used in connexion with _a tail_
in German!) But Lola merely ordered me "to work"--"What am I to work
at?" I inquired. "Raking the garden, reckoning, writing or reading?"
And I was somewhat surprised, for she was used to seeing me at work at
something or other for the greater part of the day; but after mature
reflection she added--"ales" (Alles = everything).
27 July: To-day I invited her to tell me something she might be
thinking about, adding: "Will you say something?" "Ja, esen." "Oh,
Lola!" I said in desperation, "why all this talk about eating! about
food! don't I hear enough of it from senseless labourers and maids? and
now you begin too! It can't be otherwise, at present: say something
else!" "Ich am esen" ... "What? _again!_ well go on" "... zu wenig
narung." "Ich am essen zu wenig nahrung" ( = I from my food (derive)
too little nourishment). "Ja!" Poor Lola!
10 August: To-day is my father's birthday: he is staying with us, and
Lola was to give him a "good wish." I suggested all kinds of things,
such as good health; long life; and so on, but she would have none of
them. At last she rapped "Ich wunsche esen"; and after a short pause
she continued, "... und ich auch" ( = I wish him food and for myself
too.) "Now give him a second wish: something you yourself find good."
So she said: "Re jagen und has...." "And a third?" "Heiraten" ( = to
marry). Such were the dog's wishes for my father's natal day! Food,
Hunting and Marriage ... the first one being ever the central idea in a
dog's thoughts--and yet, how necessary are all these three wishes to
the maintenance of species--"urged ever onward by the driving-power of
hunger and of love!" after all--there is something very simple and
direct about an animal!
30 August: To-day I asked Lola: "Do you wish every one to marry and
have children?" "No." "Why not?" "Arbeiten unmöglich," ( = work
impossible). "Go on: if it is impossible, one simply does not work!"
"Und ausgen ..." "Go on?" "Auch zu vil esen!" (und ausser dem, zu viel
essen = and besides that, too much eating). Here spoke experience.
1 September: Lola was shown some dots on a sheet of white paper, but
declined to count them. "Why won't you count?" "Ich ursache one wisen!"
( = I have a cause (reason), without knowing (it)). Then she began to
tremble violently, and I asked her why--to which she replied: "Ich
kalt" (I (am) cold).
2 September: An old farm labourer and his wife had come to my room to
see the dog, and in their honour Lola consented to do some sums. The
old man was delighted when, on my suggestion, Lola spelt out his name:
she rapped "Wilem," and when I said: "Did you hear that from me?" she
answered: "No." "From his wife?" "Yes!" This accounted for the
spelling, as the woman is from the Rheinland district, and says
"Willem" for Wilhelm.
6 September: "Lola, why did you bite Jenny, yesterday?" (Jenny is a
terrier lady-dog.) Answer. "Em ..." "What does that mean?" "Wüst a--a
und renen." ( = she was a dirty dog and also hunted.)
7 September: Lola came in from the farm quite wet, and I wanted to know
the reason of this, as only the woods were still wet from the recent
rains. To my question she made answer: "I in wet." "Were you in the
grass or in the woods?" I demanded. "Grass!" "Is the wet grass nice?"
"Saw deer in wood--why I came to you!" In spite of such a tempting
sight, she was evidently in a virtuous frame of mind: in earlier days
she could never resist giving chase.
8 September: "Why are you not eating your food? is it bad?" "Yes!"
"What is wrong about it?" "Smell!"
20 September: "Lola," I said, "give me the reason for why you are
alive! do you know one?" "Yes, no."
The next day: "Now tell me your answer as to why you are living?"
"Yes!" "Well?" "Egal ich lebe gern!"... (i.e. _egal_ is an expression
of indifference, such as "_it is all the same to me_, I like living").
How simple and complete is the dog-point-of-view! "And is that all?
didn't you wish to add something more?"... "in Welt" ( = in (the)
world). The expression "egal" she will probably have picked up from me.
22 September: To-day I noticed by Lola's behaviour that she wanted to
say something, so I put the question to her, and she replied. "Yes."
"Well, go ahead!" "I wish to pay you for getting food for me!" "Do you
want to give me money?" "Yes!" "But, where are you going to get it
from--can you tell me that?" "Yes!" "From where?" "From you!" There was
something quite logical about this way of arguing, for Lola had heard
much talk about money, farm-hands being often paid by hour--and she had
no doubt been an attentive listener and observer, at such transactions.
Then--all of a sudden--she rapped. "I without work!" "What do you want
to have?" "Haue!" ( = a beating!). I thought I had misunderstood her, so
repeated--"haue?" "Yes!" "Say something else!" "Reckoning." But the
fact remained that she really longed for a beating--not having had one
for a long time, for to my repeated inquiries she kept on with "Yes!"
So at length to make sure, I fetched my riding-whip and gave her a
light flick, saying--"Is that what you want?" "Yes!" "And do you want
more?" "Yes!" she insisted, though all of a tremble, and--unwillingly
enough--I had to administer one more.
13 November: Lola had to write a letter to a lady of whom she is very
fond: it ran as follows--"dear, I have just been in the yard, I like
eating biscuits, I kiss you!" (I think this letter bears the evidence
of being Lola's own composition!) Later in the afternoon, when she was
out with me, I saw a notice put up saying: "Dogs are to be led on a
leash"--and I invited her to read it, but she would only give it a
glance. Both on our way back, and when we got home I returned to the
subject, saying: "What was on that notice-board?" But she rapped "No!"
"What? you mean to say you don't know?" She had, however, already
started rapping again--"ich unaro...." "Go on! surely the _o_ should be
a _t_?" (Thinking she meant unartig = naughty). "No!" "Then what should
it be?" "No." "Is it a dog's word?" "Yes!" "Well, tell me in a way that
I can understand!" "No!" "You can't do so?" "No!" "Say something like
it!" "Ja! ich irre, ich es ansehe morgen!" ( = yes! I erred, I (will)
look at it to-morrow!)
On one occasion I had explained to her that there were also other
languages; English and French, for instance, and I now once more tried
to influence her memory by my own thoughts.
"Lola," I said, "do you know what is meant when I say--_je veux
manger_--do you understand that?" "Yes!" "Then tell me!" "Ich wil
esen!" "But do you understand this: _il faut que je travaille_?" "No!"
"Think again!" "No!" "Travailler?" "No!" This proving that what I had
not taught and explained to her she was incapable of saying--or rather,
spelling.
15 November: The following incident was communicated to the
"Mitteilungen of the Society for Animal Psychology" (series 1916, No.
2, page 74), by Professor Ziegler:
"Lola had been for a walk with Professor Kindermann, and on her return
was discovered to have a feather in her mouth. Fraulein Kindermann
asked her: "What animal's feather is that?" she answered: "Hen." "How
did you come by the feather?" "Killed hen!" "Why?" "Eat up!" "And have
you eaten it up?" "No!" "Why did you run away?" "Fear." "Of what were
you frightened, of people?" "No!" "Then of what?" "Ursache!" ( = cause,
i.e. cause of fear.) There is something rather charming here in the way
in which the dog confesses to her misdeeds, and at the same time owns
up to having a bad conscience!"
16 November: Lola must have noticed to-day that there was roast hare on
the midday dinner table, for in the afternoon when invited to make some
remark she rapped: "Zu wenig ..." (then hesitatingly) "h ..." "Are you
afraid?" I inquired. "Yes." "Nonsense, I shall not scold you!" "...
as!"--"Zu wenig has--who?" ( = too little hare) "Ich, o we!" ( = I, oh
alas!)
18 November: To-day she started to rap nothing but nonsense; but in
time it became more distinct, and ended up with "ich zälen!" ( = I
(wish to) count). I asked her if this was a fact--and she promptly said
"No!" She then kept on making her usual sign that she wanted to go down
into the yard, so I let her out, but soon she ran up again quite
briskly, and at once rapped out clearly and distinctly.--"Warum ich und
sie so rau geartet?" "Is this what you mean?" "Yes!" "And--who is si
meant for?" "Heni!" "_What?_" I exclaimed, "you are suddenly addressing
me as _sie_?!"[22] "Yes!" "But Lola! that is what we only say to people
we don't know well! you have always called me _du_ because you were
fond of me--isn't that so? are you saying _sie intentionally_ now?"
"Yes!" "Yes? but why?" "Because strange!" "How _strange_?" "Yes!" "Was:
warum ich und sie so rau reartet ( = why are I and you so roughly
constituted?) the end of the sentence you began before?" "No." N.B. In
this manner did she wish to lodge her complaint, so to speak, against
me for not always understanding her when she prefers to try and "rub
in" the meaning of her faulty spelling, by gazing at me in her "intent"
fashion--indeed, I had always sensed her annoyance at times when she
had not been able to gain her ends in this way! In simple matters, such
as "wish to eat," or "go out," I could of course, guess her desires,
but she was of opinion that I ought to be more "understanding"
still--and this is difficult!
[22] Sie = you is the more formal mode of address, as opposed to
the familiar "du" = "thou."
1 December: "Lola, what will become of you when you are dead? what will
become of your body?" "If..." "No; that is no answer! You are to spell
properly!" "Zu esen für wurm" ( = food for worm.) "And, Lola ... your
soul? do you know what that is?" "Ja, nur get in himmel!" ( = yes (it)
only goes to heaven!) "Did you hear people say that?" "Yes!" From this
it would seem that any seeking after the dog's own sensations on the
subject are useless. By the way, some time before I had read Rolf's
remark to her: "All tier hat seel, guck in aug" ( = all animals have
souls, look in their eyes). And I then asked her: "Do you know what a
soul is?" And she had said: "Yes." "Have I a soul?" "Yes!" "Has a stone
one?" "No!" "And a horse?" "Yes!" "A bird?" "Yes!" "And water?" "No!"
"Have all dogs?" "Yes!" Lola had rapped this all out very nicely, and I
praised her, to which she made response by a little spontaneous
rapping--"isan..." "What does that mean?" "ich o wi glücklich!" ( = I,
oh--how happy!) "Because I am pleased?" "Yes! yes!"
4 December: To-day I said to Lola: "Why don't I understand
dog-language?"[23] "Oft eil" ( = often hurried.) "Yes, but even when I
have tried, and paid attention I cannot understand!" "In hauch--zsuvzaes"
( = the first two words are "in breath," the remainder quite vague!) In
a quarter of an hour I showed her a card on which a small child and a
dog were looking at each other, and beneath--in Latin characters was
written: "Wer bist du?"[24] "Can you read that?" I asked. "Yes!" So I
put the card aside and said: "What is the second word?" "Bist." "But do
you understand the sentence?" "Yes." "Which is saying it--the dog or
the child? Look at both of them, they are young, and have met for the
first time in their lives." "Both!"
[23] Lola often uses quite incomprehensible words and once
declared that they belonged to "a particular dog-language"--my
further inquiries have been quite fruitless, and these words were
probably her own inventions!
[24] "Who are you?"
11 December: "Lola! why do you and Frechi always bite one another when
you are allowed to go loose?" "Ambitious!" "Ambitious to see who is the
stronger?" "Yes!" "And which of you two is the strongest?" "Frechi!"
She had applied the word with a nice sense of fitness: when two dogs
meet for the first time this is exactly the feeling that arises--either
_one_ of them is by far the strongest--a fact that both of them will be
aware of, and silently acknowledge--or, their strength may be pretty
evenly matched--in which case a fight will ensue, possibly even several
fights, before the issue is finally decided. Is this not often
_spiritually_ the case between man and man?
13 December: Lola had been chasing after the game and had been punished
by having to go without her food. She was however, in high spirits and
rapped "esen!" following this hint in half an hour with "zu esen!" ( =
(give me) to eat!) I explained to her that this could not be done: that
a punishment was imperative, if she would not break herself of her evil
habits. Then Lola rapped out suddenly. "Lere mich artig sein!" ( = teach
me to be good!")
22 December: I have been showing her a picture in a book of Fairy
Tales. My brother was present at the time, and it was the picture of
the house of a robber, the house being drawn so as to represent a face:
it had indeed been very cleverly executed.
"Lola," said I, "whatever is there about that house--do you notice
anything?" (And thought she would rap "face.") She rapped. "Is a
person!" I avoided looking at it again and merely asked, "Tell me, does
it look friendly, or angry, or nice?" "Spetisch." "Spöttische?" ( =
mocking.) "Yes." And we both thought this reply admirable, for the
"house" _does_ look at one most "mockingly" out of the corners of its
eyes.
31 December: "Lola, have you got worms?" "Yes!" "How did you get them?"
"Ja, zige!" "An animal?" "Yes." "Is there a goat ( = ziege) near here?"
"Yes!" I had seen none about, but asked her again: "Where is the goat?"
"Droif." "Do you know the name?" "Mittel!" ( = her expression for
anything she is uncertain about.) "Why did you say _droif_?" "I not
any sort of word will give!" On making further inquiries I found that
there _was_ a goat in the immediate neighbourhood, and that the name
of the family who owned it was _Freund_. I had never mentioned this
name to Lola, so that she could only have heard it in the course of
conversation among the people about, and then not very distinctly. In
the evening, while I was absent, Lola stole some Marzipan. I expostulated
with her in a serious, though friendly manner, and this evidently made
her feel exceedingly uncomfortable, for she suddenly rapped--"Sag irgend
böse!" ( = say something angry!)
1 January, 1917: "What is to-day?" "1.1. 1917!" "On this day we give
good wishes to every one, so I will wish you much to eat, good health,
and much going out: now wish me something!" "Am geln ..." (most
indistinctly) I told her to repeat it, and she began again--"Am gu ...
elen zu aufhören!" (i.e. am quälen zu aufhören = to cease teasing.)
"You can't put a _w_ after a _g_," I told her, but she persisted, and I
waited in patience. There is no "q" in her alphabet, so she had found a
way out very neatly! "Do I tease Lola?", I asked. "mich!" ( = me!) This
is indeed sad! and I am not conscious of my failing, indeed, I think
that Lola has a very good time on the whole!
7 January, 1917: "Now tell me something you would like to have
explained, but mind you rap loudly and distinctly." "Ich o si so wenig
kene." "Who is si?" "Dich!" ( = thou!) (The reply had been "I know (or
understand) you so little.") "Tell me what it is you don't understand
about me? tell me something every day: what is it now?" "Work when I
say no!" I tried to explain to her that my anxiety to get her work so
lay in my desire for more knowledge about dogs--so that I might be able
to tell everybody all about them, and thus make them kinder to animals.
I took much time and trouble over my explanation, and at length Lola
gave a responsive "Yes."
10 January: To-day we returned to the foregoing conversation: "Tell me
what you don't understand about me?" "The food has also been worse
lately!" she remarked. On this vexed subject I also attempted
elucidation. I sought to explain the conditions of war, and that the
amount of food available became less in consequence: that we people
were no better off in this respect, and so on! And at length she again
said "Yes!" Then I thought I would change the subject and asked her:
"Why did Geri sigh so outside the door last night, and why does he look
so unhappy to-day?" "er auch hat esen wolen!" ( = he also wanted to
eat!)
In the evening I said: "Lola, what _is_ it you don't understand about
me?" "Cause is often roughness!" She remarked--and here I really felt
that there was little that I must needs explain--for I am not conscious
of meriting her reproach on this score.
11 January: "Tell me something, Lola!" I pleaded. "Mistake to go out so
little," she observed. Here she was emphatically in the right! She had
not been out much lately, for it had been very wet--and she needs
plenty of exercise. In the evening I invited her to "say something
more." "o we gwelen!" "What worries you?" "ere nehemen!" ( = taking
honour!) "Taking honour about what?" "eid!" (So the old story has not
yet faded from her memory).
12 January: "Well, now you've told me ever so much that you can't
understand about me! But is there anything more?" "Zeig audawer
(Ausdauer) in libe zu mir!" "_Ausdawer?_ Isn't there a letter wrong?"
"Yes, 4"; "What should it be?" "Au!" So the sentence ran, "Zeig
Ausdauer in Liebe zu mir!" ( = show constancy in your love for me!)
Yes, indeed I will, you dear beast!
ULSE'S FIRST INSTRUCTION