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There is no incongruity in the idea that in the very earliest period of man's habitation of this world he made a friend and companion of some sort of aboriginal representative of our modern dog, and that in return for its aid in protecting him from wilder animals, and in guarding his sheep and goats, he gave it a share of his food, a corner in his dwelling, and grew to trust it and care for it. Probably the animal was originally little else than an unusually gentle jackal, or an ailing wolf driven by its companions from the wild marauding pack to seek shelter in alien surroundings.

One can well conceive the possibility of the partnership beginning in the circumstance of some helpless whelps being brought home by the early hunters to be tended and reared by the women and children. The present-day savage of New Guinea and mid-Africa does not, as a rule, take the trouble to tame and train an adult wild animal for his own purposes, and primitive man was surely equally indifferent to the questionable advantage of harbouring a dangerous guest. But a litter of woolly whelps introduced into the home as playthings for the children would grow to regard themselves, and be regarded, as members of the family, and it would soon be found that the hunting instincts of the maturing animal were of value to his captors. The savage master, treading the primeval forests in search of food, would not fail to recognise the helpfulness of a keener nose and sharper eyes even than his own unsullied senses, while the dog in his turn would find a better shelter in association with man than if he were hunting on his own account. Thus mutual benefit would result in some kind of tacit agreement of partnership, and through the generations the wild wolf or jackal would gradually become gentler, more docile, and tractable, and the dreaded enemy of the flock develop into the trusted guardian of the fold.

In nearly all parts of the world traces of an indigenous dog family are found, the only exceptions being the West Indian Islands, Madagascar, the eastern islands of the Malayan Archipelago, New Zealand, and the Polynesian Islands, where there is no sign that any dog, wolf, or fox has existed as a true aboriginal animal. In the ancient Oriental lands, and generally among the early Mongolians, the dog remained savage and neglected for centuries, prowling in packs, gaunt and wolf-like, as it prowls to-day through the streets and under the walls of every Eastern city. No attempt was made to allure it into human companionship or to improve it into docility. It is not until we come to examine the records of the higher civilisations of Assyria and Egypt that we discover any distinct varieties of canine form.

Assyrian sculptures depict two such, a Greyhound and a Mastiff, the latter described in the tablets as "the chained-up, mouth-opening dog"; that is to say, it was used as a watch-dog; and several varieties are referred to in the cuneiform inscriptions preserved in the British Museum. The Egyptian monuments of about 3000 B.C. present many forms of the domestic dog, and there can be no doubt that among the ancient Egyptians it was as completely a companion of man, as much a favourite in the house, and a help in the chase, as it is among ourselves at present. In the city of Cynopolis it was reverenced next to the sacred jackal, and on the death of a dog the members of the household to which he had belonged carefully shaved their whole bodies, and religiously abstained from using the food, of whatever kind, which happened to be in the house at the time. Among the distinct breeds kept in Egypt there was a massive wolf-dog, a large, heavily-built hound with drooping ears and a pointed head, at least two varieties of Greyhound used for hunting the gazelle, and a small breed of terrier or Turnspit, with short, crooked legs. This last appears to have been regarded as an especial household pet, for it was admitted into the living rooms and taken as a companion for walks out of doors. It was furnished with a collar of leaves, or of leather, or precious metal wrought into the form of leaves, and when it died it was embalmed. Every town throughout Egypt had its place of interment for canine mummies.

The dog was not greatly appreciated in Palestine, and in both the Old and New Testaments it is commonly spoken of with scorn and contempt as an "unclean beast." Even the familiar reference to the Sheepdog in the Book of Job-"But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock"-is not without a suggestion of contempt, and it is significant that the only biblical allusion to the dog as a recognised companion of man occurs in the apocryphal Book of Tobit (v. 16), "So they went forth both, and the young man's dog with them."

The pagan Greeks and Romans had a kindlier feeling for dumb animals than had the Jews. Their hounds, like their horses, were selected with discrimination, bred with care, and held in high esteem, receiving pet names; and the literatures of Greece and Rome contain many tributes to the courage, obedience, sagacity, and affectionate fidelity of the dog. The Phoenicians, too, were unquestionably lovers of the dog, quick to recognise the points of special breeds. In their colony in Carthage, during the reign of Sardanapalus, they had already possessed themselves of the Assyrian Mastiff, which they probably exported to far-off Britain, as they are said to have exported the Water Spaniel to Ireland and to Spain.

It is a significant circumstance when we come to consider the probable origin of the dog, that there are indications of his domestication at such early periods by so many peoples in different parts of the world. As we have seen, dogs were more or less subjugated and tamed by primitive man, by the Assyrians, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Greeks, and Romans, as also by the ancient barbaric tribes of the western hemisphere. The important question now arises: Had all these dogs a common origin in a definite parent stock, or did they spring from separate and unrelated parents?

Half a century ago it was believed that all the evidence which could be brought to bear upon the problem pointed to an independent origin of the dog. Youatt, writing in 1845, argued that "this power of tracing back the dog to the very earliest periods of history, and the fact that he then seemed to be as sagacious, as faithful, and as valuable as at the present day, strongly favours the opinion that he was descended from no inferior and comparatively worthless animal; and that he was not the progeny of the wolf, the jackal, or the fox, but was originally created, somewhat as we now find him, the associate and friend of man."

When Youatt wrote, most people believed that the world was only six thousand years old, and that species were originally created and absolutely unchangeable. Lyell's discoveries in geology, however, overthrew the argument of the earth's chronology and of the antiquity of man, and Darwin's theory of evolution entirely transformed the accepted beliefs concerning the origin of species and the supposed invariability of animal types.

The general superficial resemblance between the fox and many of our dogs, might well excuse the belief in a relationship. Gamekeepers are often very positive that a cross can be obtained between a dog fox and a terrier bitch; but cases in which this connection is alleged must be accepted with extreme caution. The late Mr. A. D. Bartlett, who was for years the superintendent of the Zoological Gardens in London, studied this question with minute care, and as a result of experiments and observations he positively affirmed that he had never met with one well-authenticated instance of a hybrid dog and fox. Mr. Bartlett's conclusions are incontestable. However much in appearance the supposed dog-fox may resemble the fox, there are certain opposing characteristics and structural differences which entirely dismiss the theory of relationship.

One thing is certain, that foxes do not breed in confinement, except in very rare instances. The silver fox of North America is the only species recorded to have bred in the Zoological Gardens of London; the European fox has never been known to breed in captivity. Then, again, the fox is not a sociable animal. We never hear of foxes uniting in a pack, as do the wolves, the jackals, and the wild dogs. Apart from other considerations, a fox may be distinguished from a dog, without being seen or touched, by its smell. No one can produce a dog that has half the odour of Reynard, and this odour the dog-fox would doubtless possess were its sire a fox-dog or its dam a vixen.

Whatever may be said concerning the difference existing between dogs and foxes will not hold good in reference to dogs, wolves, and jackals. The wolf and the jackal are so much alike that the only appreciable distinction is that of size, and so closely do they resemble many dogs in general appearance, structure, habits, instincts, and mental endowments that no difficulty presents itself in regarding them as being of one stock. Wolves and jackals can be, and have repeatedly been, tamed. Domestic dogs can become, and again and again do become, wild, even consorting with wolves, interbreeding with them, assuming their gregarious habits, and changing the characteristic bark into a dismal wolf-like howl. The wolf and the jackal when tamed answer to their master's call, wag their tails, lick his hands, crouch, jump round him to be caressed, and throw themselves on their backs in submission. When in high spirits they run round in circles or in a figure of eight, with their tails between their legs. Their howl becomes a business-like bark. They smell at the tails of other dogs and void their urine sideways, and lastly, like our domestic favourites, however refined and gentlemanly in other respects, they cannot be broken of the habit of rolling on carrion or on animals they have killed.