365 Urban Species. #112: Domestic Dog

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Street dog, St. johns, Antigua. Photo by cottonmanifesto.
Urban Species #112: Domestic Dog Canis familiaris

No other domestic mammal has had as long and intimate an association with humans as the dog. Molecular evidence indicates that domestic dogs have been distinct from their Asian gray wolf ancestors for at least 15,000 years. (This is nearly 3 times as long a time than any other animal has been domesticated.) Aborigines as far north as the Arctic and as far south as Australia and the South Pacific brought dogs with them as they spread from Asia.

How a dangerous and wary wild predator was genetically transformed into a coworker and companion of humans is a matter for discussion and controversy. The best explanation we have comes from biologist Ray Coppinger, in his highly recommendable book, DOGS: A Startling New Understanding of Canine Origin, Behavior, and Evolution. Simplified for brevity, the story is this: When humans began to settle into permanent camps and villages, they produced permanent garbage and waste areas. Wild animals made use of the waste areas as a food source. Those wolves that would be the least likely to run from humans (those least likely to have a flight response) began to lurk near villages, and over time, became dogs. The genetic change that needs to occur to change "wild" responses to "tame" responses comes with a whole suite of other attributes: patchy fur color, a tendency for ears to droop, and so on. In short, dogs evolved from wolves to associate with humans--humans didn't capture and domesticate wolves. This makes dogs one of the first truly urban animals.

Today things are much more complex. There are still wild village dogs (such as those on the African island of Pemba, where Coppinger did his research), but much more often dogs that are seen in cities are former pets. Attitudes about dogs vary wildly, from country to country, among different social classes, and even among individuals of the same culture and class. Dogs have long been used to guard livestock (ironically, against wolves), assist in hunting, for entertainment (racing or fighting other animals), and for pest control. In the Victorian era, it became the vogue among the rich (and subsequently, among the middle class, always eager to emulate their betters) to keep dogs as pampered child substitutes.

Now the most common purpose of domestic dogs, at least among urban people, is companionship. Alas, in many places, dogs are thought to be disposable companions, and veterinary care is considered to be an extravagance. Inconvenient pets are turned out into the streets, and street dogs breed with indiscriminate fervor. Some people consider leashing a dog to be cruel or degrading, allowing pets to wander and mix with strays and feral animals. In some places, street dogs are a public health risk, forming aggressive packs and acting as vectors for rabies. My own experience with urban street dogs has involved sad sickly loners, surviving on handouts and scavenging.

These dogs exist in a way similar to pigeons. They're always on the lookout for food, and they are attuned to the behavioral clues of human kindness. Dogs have the advantage over pigeons of being social mammals with a rich array of gestures (puppy-dog eyes, anyone?) and behaviors that they use to interact with humans. Adorable dogs are fed, mean dogs are taken out and shot. Arguably the greatest contributor to the success of dogs is their ability to socially interact and communicate with humans.



The city I've been to with the most street dogs is Santiago Chile. I have quite a few pictures from there, and I don't mean to misrepresent the city. Santiago has one of the highest standards of living in South America, and is a beautiful and vibrant place. I also saw many street dogs in Costa Rica (which has the highest standard of living in Central America), but I didn't have a digital camera when I visited there, so I don't have those pictures handy.

There are many cities with urban dogs--remember recently in Athens dogs were rounded up and destroyed prior to the Olympics--and while it doesn't speak well of humans that we allow this to happen to dogs, I don't mean to put down any particular place. It's a human problem not a problem confined to any geographic region.


This dog slept at the top of St. Lucia park in Santiago, and dozens of tourists milled around, and tried not to step on him as they got pictures of the view.


This dog was sleeping peacefully in the park until someone knelt down to take a picture of it.


This dog busied itself with the contents of a discarded plastic bag.


Along the edges of the walled-in river that flows through the city, many dogs roam, pausing to bark at the tourists up on the footbridge.


This brokeleg dog plied the sypathies of people waiting on the train platform.

In the Easter Island village of Hanga Roa, a few dogs mill about--checking the waterfront for discarded fish, and trying to see if the tourists will toss them a treat. On a small island, the trait of aggression toward humans would be quickly weeded out of the gene pool.