People of high regard in Australian aboriginal society were seen as possessing super-human powers and were the leaders, elder-advisors, and healers of the soul, saying “Dingo make us human”. In my studies of dogs and their feral and wild relatives like the wolf and the Asiatic dhole, I have seen, in these socially evolved species, individuals of high regard in terms of their role in the pack as leader, arbiter and healer of conflicts; gentle and protective of the young; catalyst for play and song, and brilliant in deflecting confrontation when challenged or deceived.
I have had the privilege of coming to live with and learn much from such super-dogs who were treated with high regard by their kin. Collectively I see them as a kind of royalty, above the rabble of the pack. This is a position earned not necessarily by being the most physically powerful, or from being of some particular man-made breed in a mixer with other breeds. It is primarily a consequence of naturally selected, genetic endowment and good nurturance.
These super-dogs are the most highly evolved members of their race, and possess many virtues all too often lacking in our own species, notably loyalty, honesty, trustworthiness, obedience, courage, devotion, protectiveness, and empathy. They can be aloof and seem distant at times, showing a reflective inwardness that is embodied with a power of presence that makes them shine! They are so observant and understanding of our behavior and intentions that they seem almost clairvoyant; mind readers indeed.
Dogs of high regard, like the dog-headed Egyptian god Anubis, enter other realms beyond our normal conscious state and awareness. For example, dogs can know when their human companions are coming home, and when a loved one away from home has died. These documented abilities mean that unlike most humans, except those like the Australian aboriginals of High Regard, dogs can enter what I call the empathosphere (visit www.twobitdog.com/drfox for more details).
As a British subject I do not confuse the biology of royalty with its various human facsimiles. The beauty of canine society, of a functioning pack, is in the strength of allegiances, the stronger the pack, the greater its chances for individual survival. The magnet of this intra-pack allegiance is the alpha-leader, and the better the leader---firm but gentle, powerful yet restrained, ---the better the pack functions as a unit.
The status of royalty accorded the pack leader is biological, and highly adaptive for the species. It is not one of linear inheritance, but of the interplay of dynamic factors within the pack, and within every litter of cubs. As I found in my research, it is within the litter that a social hierarchy based on temperament and physiology begins to form, potential alpha individuals being identifiable soon after birth in terms of their heart rate responses to human handling, and stress hormone reactivity. What I found remarkable was the biological heterogeneity of the litters studied in terms of the range of reactivity seen in different cubs. Each litter seemed to have a full spectrum of temperaments or typologies that would make an ideal pack.
While the insights gleaned from the ethology of wolves and other pack-living canids might add much to military intelligence, the intelligence of dogs of High Regard is a given. It is related to their acute senses, attentiveness, and self-restraint, (or so called internal inhibition) traits that were evident in those of Pavlov’s experimental dogs that he characterized as having a ‘strong and balanced nervous typology’. In my research I showed that to some degree one could ‘re-tune’ puppies very early in life to better withstand stressful situations, and to be quick learners, essentially making them more like Pavlov’s super-dogs or dogs of high regard. My gentle handling procedures were the basis for the U.S. army’s Viet Nam Super-dog project, enabling war dogs to perform better under combat, and save many lives.
Of course not all dogs of high regard may have the desire to live with a pack of others of comparable size. Some may prefer to live with humans. Most do not have the opportunity to ever live in a pack, but a play-group from puppy hood on would be a good start. And super-dog in the making or not, I firmly believe that most pups do best when raised with another dog or with a litter-mate. Far too many dogs suffer from a dog-deprived existence living in homes with humans only, and for whom every effort should be made to enable them to have some regular social interaction with their own kind.
Two dogs of high regard whom I came to know well were rescued street-dogs. One was a pup in Tanzania, whom my wife Deanna Krantz rescued in the street. We called her Tanza, and she came to live with us in the US. The other was Dean, whom we saved as a pup from sickness, starvation and gross neglect at a defunct animal shelter in India. Deanna took charge of most of the animals at this shelter, and moved them, along with Dean, to an alternative facility that she set up for over 100 animals, including thirty or so dogs.
Perhaps it was the close bond with us that helped Dean to establish himself immediately as the alpha dog. But that alone would never have helped him when challenged by stronger dogs than he when we were not there. Dean was one of our smallest dogs, and was weakened by the ravages of distemper that we at least saved him from succumbing to when we found him at the shelter. On occasion he had seizures. When ever he was seriously challenged, he would remain stiff and still, eyes glaring and teeth bared. He rarely needed to growl or snap.
Dean showed prescience on many occasions. He always knew well ahead of time when Deanna would be coming back in the jeep to her animal refuge in the Nilgiris, S. India. He would be the first at the gate before anyone could hear her vehicle.
He was the first to approach a new dog we had brought in to the group after quarantining, as the other thirty or so residents circled or sat while he examined the newcomer. He would police all interactions with the newcomer with calm and deliberated attention. Was he cool!
The first to alert the pack and the rest of us was usually Dean when a stray animal was outside the refuge, or a wild boar or elephant was close. He had a different bark when there was a band of langur or Bonnet macaque monkeys in a nearby tree.
Red dog Dean, who looked like a small dingo, stocky, with sparse wiry fur, but weighing only a little over 30 pounds, was a great yowl-talker like all of these aboriginal dogs not yet too crossed out by European and other mal-introduced breeds. He had one particular whine-yowl that he used to call me out from breakfast to have me play my shakuhachi flute, which he just loved.
On hearing my first note he would utter a cascade of high pitched whines and whistles that ignited the entire pack in a cacophony of yips, yaps, yowls, howls, and bird-like whistles and trills of happiness that spread to the nearby village where the community dogs began to sing. I imagined a wave of singing dogs passing from village to village, a tsunami of joy spreading as fast as the speed of sound through the thin morning air from our animal refuge where no dogs were ever caged except for medical reasons, and all were safe and well fed. Dean was the dean of morning song in the Nilgiris, where I pray his noble lineage will not become extinct.
At evening time I would often find Dean away from his work-day sentinel posts around the refuge, lying and facing the setting sun. On occasion he would be sitting on his haunches and would turn to look at me as I approached, and then return his gaze to the changing of the light.
On one occasion he bemused us all by lying in an unusual spot all day while a dowser and hydrologist tried to find the best location to drill a well. Toward day’s end they gave up until Deanna insisted that they drill where Dean had been lying all day watching the workers. They eventually found sweet water deep down beneath him.
Tanza was our light from Africa, coming into our lives when Deanna rescued her as a starving and parasite infested gutter-pup whom she insisted that we bring home to the US to live with us. We were working in Arusha with the Tanzanian Government veterinary service and local community to improve their weekly dog-dipping facility. We had discovered the terrible dog-dipping system during one of my speaking engagements, addressing the Tanzania Veterinary Association on animal welfare and human treatment of domestic animals.
Tanza grew so fast with us in a few days that by the time the wooden crate we were having made for her had been built by a local carpenter, she could barely fit into it!
I knew that Tanza was different during our stay at a new, and very expensive, motel where we had to move with her. This was on account of the manager of the down town hotel in Arusha where we were staying. He requested politely that we should leave if we plan to keep the pup because Muslim guests would take offense on seeing a dog inside the hotel. I asked him why they did not take offense over pork sausages and bacon being on the breakfast menu. But to no avail. The manager, Mr. Adam, was adamant.
Our return flight had to be changed at considerable expense and difficulties with British airlines quarantine authority who told me over the phone that Tanza would be destroyed on arrival in the UK en route to the US unless she had a transit permit, the availability of which was zero in the African bush and they would not send it via fax!
During that time spent waiting for a more dog-friendly KLM flight out, I put Tanza through some basic training. She was about ten weeks old and looked like a part Labrador and part greyhound mix, with a short and very fine, blond coat, semi-erect ears, and a very long tail. (A friendly quarantine dog handler in Amsterdam said we should have her tail cut because it was too long!) She was extremely dexterous with her fore-paws, but unlike our Indian dogs I never saw her lick her front paws and wash her face. But just as they enjoyed soil and grass snacks on occasion, and deer or rabbit droppings, so did she.
I knew she was different that day at our new motel when she decided to break out of her ‘stay’ position and begin to stalk me with a fixed stare and in a low, lithe crouch.
That was her signal that she taught me to recognize when ever she wanted to play. The closer she got, the more tense she became until either I lunged at her and she would dodge and race away, or else she would playfully attacked me.
Tanza grew up with another dog of High Regard named Quincy. He was a black Labrador who had been retired as my brother in law’s seeing-eye guide. The two would hold on to the same tennis ball, Quincy being immovable in his Tai Chi-like grounded form as Tanza twisted and pulled and growled until the ball split in two.
As an adult, spayed and secure, Tanza would not only meditate like Dean, but was also extremely attentive and protective. Any strange car on our street would be met with a low warning growl as we walked by. When Deanna rescued Lizzie in Jamaica, Tanza did a dance of absolute joy in an entire circle around this tiny potbellied island pup. She protectively curled half her body around the little newcomer as she sniffed and licked her face.
Quincy passed on and Lizzie became Tanza’s pup and later companion. They developed a grooming ritual that Lizzie enjoyed immensely. She would stay perfectly still while Tanza nibbled off all her whiskers. Perhaps that was some African village dog custom. Dogs are recognized in these villages for the good medicine of their healing licks. Tanza was most attentive whenever I had a cut on my hand or face, and looked very closely one night when I was checking Lizzie’s teeth and found several large warts on the underside of her lower lip. I resolved to remove them surgically the next day.
The next morning when I checked them again, I discovered that they were gone.
There was no tearing or bleeding from surrounding tissue. Only a small pale circle remained where each wart had been growing. Tanza was a good medicine dog, even able to perform minor surgery!
Dean lives on still as the leader of the pack at the animal refuge in India and will soon be fifteen years old. Deanna and I enjoy the company of old Lizzie and Batman from India who mourned deeply with us the passing of Xylo who had a poor start in life---another story indeed---just as we and Lizzie mourned the demise of Tanza from cancer.
Except where human interference has been damaging genetically or psychologically, all pups have the potential to become super-dogs: Dogs of High Regard. If we could all parent them, and our own offspring as well, with the same consistent affection and gentle discipline that we see in all good mother dogs and wolves the world over,---otherwise their offspring would have become extinct long ago-- then we would all be the better for it.