Chapter 7

Towards the end of May I thought I would teach her fractions, and she apparently understood what I meant, but for a beginning I could only put questions, such as: "How many _wholes_ are there in 20/4, 12/4, or 11/2" etc. Indeed, I was at first at a loss as to what form of expression I should use here--so as not to come into collision with those already resorted to, thus giving rise to confusion. At first I thought it might be more convenient to let her rap out the denominator with her right paw and the numerator with her left--but I soon came to see that even with 3/16, this method could no longer be maintained. At length I let her simply rap out the numerator--then I would ask for the denominator, and let her rap this, so that in the case of 3/16 she rapped the 3 first with her right paw; then gave the denominator, i.e. 1 rap with her left paw and 6 again with her right. This mode or procedure came quite naturally to her, and so it was retained. The questions were practised in the following manner:--"How do you rap 3/8, 12/6?" etc., and I followed this up with easy exercises such as: "How much is 2/8 + 1/4?" the simplified answer being "1/2." I had, as may be imagined, already given her repeated and detailed explanations on the subject before she was capable of giving such answers as "1/2," to the above question. Simplifying was also practised separately thus: "Simplify 20/16!" Answer: "1-1/4." this being given with "1 r" (pause) "1 r" (another pause); "and the denominator?" "4 r." To anyone following her actions, the meaning would appear quite distinct. I now determined that she should add together numbers having different denominators--as, for example: 1/4 + 1/3, and here I had myself to cogitate as to how this ought to be done, for at school, my enthusiasm for arithmetic had never been great and much of what I had then learnt has been forgotten. So I talked the question over with a friend--in Lola's presence and out loud--and finally arrived at the solution. As she had been listening most of the time while we sought, found, and discussed the solution, I soon ventured to put a few tests to her, and the answers proved that she had actually been listening while our conversation was going on, and that what we had talked about had lingered in her memory. By the way, it is reported of Jean Paul Richter, that when on some occasion a friend came to him desirous of talking over some matter, the nature of which none other was to know, Jean Paul said to his poodle, who was under the table: "Go outside, we want to be alone!" The dog vacated, and the poet remarked: "Now, sir, you can talk, for no one will hear us!"

Lola solved the following problems:

"1/5 + 1/3 = ?" A. "8/15." "1/7 + 5/8 = ?" A. "43/56."

"1/2 + 1/3 = ?" A. "5/6." "1/4 + 2/5 = ?" A. "13/20."

As the problems always took me longer than they did her I never checked them at the time, but went over them later, after she had given all her answers. I did this moreover, so that she should have no opportunity of tapping my thoughts and thus rely on me; indeed, I really _forced_ her to do her own thinking. For even if I did begin to calculate I did it so slowly, that she was rapping out her reply long before I was done. I say all this to my own shame, for Lola must have her due--and I never had a head for arithmetic myself!

When she knew how to calculate time, I put the following question to her: "How many minutes are there in an hour and a half--less thirty minutes?" Answer: "60." "How many hours are there in 240 minutes?" Answer: "4." By this time Lola had also learnt the value of money. About the end of April, 1916, she could distinguish between such coins as 5 Pfennige, 10 Pfennige, 50 Pfennige; 1 Mark, 2 Mark, and 5 Mark, and could compute the value of the Mark in Pfennige. When showing my friends what she could do in the way of arithmetic, her money sums were a special feature and delighted everybody. Here is an example, the date being 31 May: I put the question: "12 Mark less 4 Mark 10 Pfennige?" adding--"Tell me the Mark!" Answer: "7." "And the Pfennige?" "90" (i.e. 7 Mark 90 Pfennige.) Question: "What coins do you know?" Answer: "5, 10, 50; 1, 2." "And what are they all?" "Fenig." (i.e. Lola's mode of spelling Pfennig.) "Lola, how much of a Mark are 50 Pfennige? The answer has to do with fractions." Answer: "1/2." "How much are 225 Pfennige?" "2-1/4." "And 20 Pfennige?" "1/5." "And 60?" "3/5." "And 3/20 Mark, how many Pfennige?" "20." _"No!_ "8/20 Mark?" Answer: "15." Towards the close of 1916 I taught her to raise numbers to various powers. At this she was slow in the beginning, but ultimately mastered it fairly well. She could soon answer such questions as--"3^3 = ?" with "27." And--"4^2 = ?" with "16," doing so, moreover, with ease; but up to now I have not been able to take her any further in the matter of extracting roots; in the first place I have had little time to give to it, and secondly, I am by no means on very sure ground there myself! I might, of course, have rubbed up my own rusty arithmetic had my interest in this particular accomplishment of Lola's been greater. But--for my own part, I attach greater importance to the psychological side of this question, and would far rather probe and delve within the depths of her dog-soul, exploring the extent of her other abilities, since arithmetic has already some brilliant exponents in, for instance, Krall's horses.

WORKING WITH OTHER PERSONS.

As may readily be imagined, it is by no means easy to induce an animal to work with any person it does not regard as its accepted teacher. On such occasions, it will behave like a small child, and be restless and even intractable. Often, too, while apparently willing, there may be something unfamiliar in the way in which a question is put (a matter for which no one can be blamed!), this resulting in the impossibility of getting an answer. Sometimes, too, the hand proffered to receive the replies is not held either straight or flat enough, or may not have the right slant that will enable the paw to rap without slipping off. Or, again a hand will be held too high, and thus cause much inconvenience to the animal. Then too, questions are carelessly worded, and seem strange to the method of thought to which its regular instructor has accustomed it, fresh explanations being then required to achieve any results at all. And so it comes, that only those can work successfully with animals who have already been frequently present at the teaching, and are then willing to try their luck, calmly and tranquilly--and quite alone with the animal, so as to carefully develop their own aptitude, as well as gain the confidence of their charge. It is true that in the case of the horses, others, besides Herr Krall, frequently did work with them. Indeed, my father got excellent answers from them, although he had to do with them for only a short time. But the matter seems rather more difficult with dogs; for one thing, they do not stand in front of a board--independently, so to speak--as do the horses; nor are they, from the beginning of their career as habitually accustomed to a variety of persons about them, at least, not to the extent that horses are. And yet they are sometimes quite ready to work with others, this being the case with Lola when I took her to Stuttgart, on a visit to a lady she already knew--Fräulein M. D., and who had put a few questions to her when here at the farm, questions which she had answered quite correctly. At Stuttgart there was a larger circle of listeners, and Lola sat in their midst upon a table. Fräulein M. D. stood beside me, and I asked her to put the question. I do not now remember what the question was, but I had extended my hand for the reply. Lola, however, turned to the speaker, and tapped the correct answer on that lady's arm, giving the second--and equally good one on Fräulein M. D.'s proffered hand. Lola is also in the habit of answering my people with either "yes" or "no" as the case may be, and on one occasion--when I was away from home, having gone to Munich for three weeks--she remained with Frau Kindermann at Hohenheim, and during that time, gave replies to all kind of questions put to her by that lady, as the following report will show:

"REPORT OF FRAU PROFESSOR KINDERMANN IN HOHENHEIM

"On my asking Lola: 'Where is your mistress?' she answered--'minchen!' (München). When I showed her the portrait of my son Karl and asked--'Of whom is this a picture?' Lola at once replied 'Karli.' On 28 October, I received a hamper of vegetables from my mother--known to Lola as 'Mama,' to whom she had been on a visit at Easter. Lola sniffed all the hamper over, then jumped about and wagged her tail joyfully--so I inquired: 'Do you know who the hamper is from?' 'Yes!' 'Then tell me!' 'Mama!' She did a few sums with me every day; told the time; the days of the week, and the temperature. Several acquaintances bore witness to the good work she did--and Lola told them her age--after she had been given the year of her birth. If I happened to be absent minded, Lola knew at once how to deceive me, for she seemed then, instinctively aware that I was not a match for her."

* * * * *

Lola also solved many little sums set her by my friend, Fräulein M. D. (at the time that lady had been staying with me on the farm to gain first-hand experience in the work), and on one occasion when Fräulein M. D. said, "Where is your mistress?" Lola spelt out that I was in the "segenhaus," which was quite true, I having told her shortly before that I was going there. To the great amusement of the maids, Lola sometimes elected to work in the kitchen, with the little seven-year-old son of the housekeeper, and it is reported that her answers were frequently right. I feel sure, in fact, that Lola would work with anyone who was adapted to work with her, and that she would give as good an account of herself, with them, as she does with me.

THE QUESTION OF POSSIBLE INFLUENCE

Eighteenth May, 1916. Lola, who since the middle of April has been accustomed to giving her own independent, and often lengthy, answers, was now rapping very well. Her replies were to the point, decidedly apt, and often quite unexpected. Moreover she usually stuck obstinately to her own way--should I happen to think that something was incorrect, until--on giving in--I sometimes had to acknowledge that she had been right after all. Now, on the 18 May I said to her: "Lola, you must write to my father and thank him for the biscuits, he will then send you some more. This is the way to write a letter, one begins--'dear Father,' or just 'dear,' and then one tells what one is thinking about, you must, therefore, thank him--and when the letter is finished--you must put 'love from Lola'." Now then--begin. Lola started rapping out without further delay, and continued rapidly and "fluently"--so to speak--her letter running as follows: "lib, nach uns kom, ich una ..." (here I interrupted her, believing her about to say "ich und Henny") and asked "is this right?" She said it was: "but, Lola," I urged, "be sure you are careful! ought this not to be a 'd'?" "No!" she said. I was at a loss to make out where this "a" came in, but told her to go on--and Lola rapped: "... artig eben, oft we, kus ich!" So the "una" had been part of "unartig"! ( = "dear, come to us, I have just been naughty, often pains, kiss (you) I." Here she showed that she was quite certain in her own mind, and that in spite of my suggestions as to the form her letter should take, she was yet bent on following her own ideas, since there was no trace of "thanks!" Besides which, instead of concluding with "Lola," as I had proposed her doing, she elected to assert herself by putting _ich_ = "I!") "Naughty" referred, probably to a _strafe_ she had had about a quarter of an hour earlier for chasing the game, and the "often pain" to headache and to being tired. Anyway, this letter seems a brilliant proof of "independent thinking," and I shall be able to give several more equally fresh and original replies in a later chapter.[19]

[19] Chapter XVIII, "Spontaneous Answers."

Up to this time, it had only been in the matter of _replies_ that I had been able to obtain independent communications, but, on 27 May, there was a new development to record: I had avoided asking her any questions for several days, for I had noticed that she seemed extremely tired. But by this day I thought she would probably be fit to do a reasonable amount of work: I have always abstained from this if she showed signs of evident fatigue. So I now asked her: "Lola! how is it you always know when my friend is coming? you knew it before she entered the house this morning!" "Gehört," ( = heard) was the reply. "Then, if you know hers--do you know the sounds made by every one?" "No." "Only those whom you know well?" "Yes." Then Lola began wagging her tail near to the door, so I asked: "Who was outside?" Lola gave a "g," and then corrected it with "no." From her delight, I was inclined to think that it had been Frieda, a young girl who had been studying farming with me, and that this was the name Lola was about to rap out. So I discounted the "g" and the "no" and said: "It should be 'f'--shouldn't it?" (note: g = 17, f = 16.) Whereupon Lola continued and rapped--_Frieda_. I then looked out and saw to my astonishment that it was Guste, a new maid who had been in the house about a week. I said to Lola at once: "You were wrong, it was not Frieda, but the new maid--what is her name?" Lola began again----" ... "and again added "no ..." "Don't you know her name?" I inquired--but Lola replied "yes!" I turned the matter over in my mind, wondering how she had come to rap "Frieda" instead of "Guste," and finally said to her: "Why did you give me a wrong answer, saying Frieda when it was Guste?" and Lola responded with, "You think!" "What?" said I, "did you _feel_ what I was thinking?" "Yes." "And do you _always_ feel what I think?" "Yes."

This was something quite new, but I explained it to myself, and my view has proved to be correct in all subsequent tests undertaken by me. It is this: _Dogs are susceptible to thought-transference--also, that they are more particularly open to this when tired and when lazy. Further--they are open to such thought-transference even when not actually aware of the question--as for instance, in the present case, where it was a matter of the new servant's name, for here Lola had been able to "tap" my thoughts with respect to what was familiar to her_--(i.e. the name of the other maid) _but_ (and this is the most important point)--_a dog cannot receive impressions in respect of matters of which it has no knowledge_!

For example, here Lola could not spell "Guste" in spite of the fact that I was expecting it quite as intently as I had looked for "Frieda" in the first instance; and what is more--I cannot get the dog to "take up" a new thought should she have already "made up her mind" about a matter, as on the occasion when she had been "naughty." It has constantly happened that Lola has held out against me in the matter of some figure in her sums and that--later on--I have found myself to have been at fault, this showing that the numerals "pictured" in my mind can have made no impression on hers; yet, on the other hand, it has also happened that she has accepted my inaccuracies--simply because she was tired, and did not want the trouble of "thinking for herself." Indeed, I could see as much in her eyes--there would be a sense of inertia about her, which indicated that she was only waiting to "guess" by means of _feeling_--a willing receptacle, as it were, ready to receive my thoughts. I have often made the attempt at "thinking" _new_ things into her head--but have found this quite impossible.

Shortly after what has here been related, Lola became a "slacker" in the matter of thinking, and kept this up for days. As this pose made it impossible for me to put a serious test, I had recourse for some time to questions only, and--moreover--to questions as to which I could not be sure of the answer, without some trouble or calculation on my own part, for I felt that I might otherwise have really lost my patience with her--unless I had kept on strenuously suggesting the answer--as, for instance: "the stove is green!" Nor did I feel that I could have entirely relied on the inactivity of my subconsciousness, while thus intently thinking. So I kept to such questions as--"What will be the day of the week on such and such a date?" (Naming a date about three weeks ahead.) This precluded any possibility of thought-transference, for I simply ignored reckoning out the days myself. By the way, it is astounding that dogs should be receptive to thought-transference, though there are, of course, many proofs of a dog's acute and delicate susceptibility in relation to the thoughts of human beings, as well as a certain comprehension for a particular situation in which these may be placed. Yet such comprehension can only evince its true force when animals shall have learnt how to give expression to that of which they are aware. With reference to the incident which I have just cited, the thought that presented itself to me first, was that the entire process might possibly be no more than a matter of "suggestion." Yet, on probing further into the question, as well as by drawing comparisons, the conclusions arrived at only further confirmed what I have above stated. That this is so, will, I think, seem absolutely certain to anyone who reads through the whole of this book carefully--indeed, they will arrive at that conclusion without my labouring the question.

It was only by degrees that Lola became amenable to thought-transference, and, in fact, this was only in accordance to the extent to which she became mistress of the human tongue. Now this trait might have degenerated into a serious failing, but, owing to the measures to which I resorted so as to obviate any evil results, it has almost entirely ceased. I now remain quite _passive_, while she is answering, trying to suppress any "thinking _with_ her," so that, when she tires, her own individuality may not be disturbed.

ALTERATIONS AND MEMORY

As I have endeavoured to make clear--Lola was, especially during the first month of tuition, exceedingly attentive at her lessons. Indeed, her rapid progress can only be ascribed to this, and to her good memory. Nor did she only evince this alertness at her studies, but noticed everything that went on round about her, even to the following of our conversations, her keenness was surprising. It is probable that every lively and intelligent dog follows what is being said in its presence, and notes our play of feature--this accounting for the demonstrations of sympathy, and other symptoms of partisanship or of aversion they so constantly show. In general, however, such intuitive response is due rather to the dog's memory, and can only be brought to the surface and recognized where the "Spelling Method" has become a familiar mode of expression. Indeed, it may be said that its attentiveness begins then to extend over a far greater field of interest.

On the 19 April, 1916, several ladies--as yet unknown to Lola--were in the room with me. She was sitting near the window and dividing her attention between what was going on outside and in the room. After about half an hour she did some sums and some spelling, acquiting herself very well. For fun she was then asked the name of one of my guests (N.B. the lady's name was really Fräulein Herbster.) (Herbst = autumn, so we usually call her Spring) "What's the name of this girl?" I said: "Frühling" ( = Spring) was her reply at once--so that she must most obviously have been listening to us while we were talking.

On the 25 April of the same year, I went on a visit to Hohenheim, taking Lola with me. While there I showed her a picture painted by Ferdinand Leeke and said: "That was done by 'Uncle' who came to stay with us at the farm, at the time when Lola was allowed to go for her first drive in the carriage with the two horses." (This event having made a great impression on her.) "Do you remember 'Uncle's' name?" I added. "Yes!" "What is it?" "leke!" The visit had taken place quite three weeks ago.

On the 20 May I took Lola to tea at S----. She did her work there excellently--both in viva voce arithmetic, as well as in the written tests put to her, and also counted dots, etc. After this the conversation became general, and Lola was not noticed. But in the course of the afternoon I told my friends that I had been to Hagenbeck's Circus a few days before, and that I had seen a monkey dressed as a man, and that it had eaten most daintily, cycled, and done other tricks. This had been a mere casual remark, and in about an hour's time I had returned home with Lola. But that same evening, when I was sitting reading, Lola came and rapped my hands--inquiring--"wer afe?" ( = who monkey?) I was at the moment so absent minded that I did not grasp what she was after--but she repeated "afe!" Then it suddenly flashed into my mind--and I did my best to illustrate the performance to her entire satisfaction. I gave an earlier conclusive proof of her memory when I mentioned her recollection of the yard-stick after the very brief explanation I had given her on the subject two months previously. Spontaneous remarks have been allotted a special chapter in this book, and may assist in proving what has already been stated, but I should like here to add an example of how animals put a matter "to themselves," as it were, when the thing _heard_ has not been mentally digested, so to speak--or may even be quite incomprehensible to them.

On 26 July, 1916, I said: "Lola! now _you_ think of something to ask _me_!" "Yes!" "Well, what is it to be?" "Yes, o h o." "What is the question? What am I to do with that word; the sentence is not complete, is it?" "What means?" "You want to know what _oho_ means?" "Yes, yes!"

If we but consider the manner in which a dog will listen--with ears erect--to every word we say, the question Lola put to me will seem most natural! It even "comes naturally" to her to use words which are "above her head," so to speak, as for instance, when she said "surogat"--and in the case of Rolf, who referred to the "Urseele!" ( = the primeval soul!) Words such as these are "picked up" by them much in the way that children use words they do not know the meaning of: there may be something in the sound that attracts them, but sometimes they make a guess at the meaning, and in the case of animals, the guess is often a very good one. In Lola this "Art of Guessing" almost led to a sort of Romance!