As soon as Camille Bromley got Ellie, a black-eyed, bat-eared German shepherd puppy, she trained her to be a good dog. And so she was. Two years on, Ms. Bromley started to think she was a little too obedient. Ellie was hesitant, whining when she was unsure of herself, in a way that clashed with her big muscles and pointy canines.The solution, maybe, was buttons. Around this time, Ms. Bromley started to see dogs on social media seeming to express their desires by the most absurdly simple, low-tech means possible: stepping on multicolored plastic buttons on the floor, each disc emitting a word when the dog pressed it. Ms. Bromley scrolled through videos on her phone of dogs pawing FOOD and MORE and NOW, sometimes in that order. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.
Full Episode
Hi, my name is Camille Bromley, and I'm a contributor to the New York Times Magazine. Back in the summer of 2020, like many people, I had a lot of time on my hands. So I decided to adopt a pandemic puppy, a German Shepherd I named Ellie. I'd fostered cats for many years, so I'd always thought of myself as a cat person. But as soon as I got Ellie, I thought, this is way, way better.
Ellie is a smart dog. I could teach her a new command or a new trick in about 15 seconds. But even though she was really good at training, all of our communication was always one way. It was me to her, right? So I started thinking, well, what does she want to tell me? Scientists generally believe that only humans have language. There are a few exceptions, like dolphins and whales, for example.
There were some famous studies back in the 70s that involved humans talking with animals. You might remember Coco, a gorilla who was taught sign language. Many scientists were critical of the work done with Coco because they said that having one animal being trained extensively in a lab setting didn't prove much.
While it may have looked like Coco was signing some remarkable things, it's also possible her signs were random, or that it was all wishful thinking on the part of her human trainers. After the 70s, animal language experiments, like the one with Coco, were mostly abandoned. But now scientists know that when it comes to communicating with humans, dogs actually have a significant edge on gorillas.
Dogs have always needed us for food and safety. they've had to become really, really good at understanding us for evolutionary survival. Humans, on the other hand, we find ourselves reading all sorts of our own preferences and behaviors onto our dogs, like thinking they like to be hugged, they don't like rainy weather, or that, yeah, they want to eat that birthday cake.
Being the overindulgent American dog owner that I am, for this week's Sunday read, I wished for a way for my dog to express herself to me. To do that, I asked scientists what's possible, and I went to see the dog owners who said they'd actually cracked the code of human-dog communication. So here's everything that I found out in my article, read by Gabra Zachman.
Our audio producer today is Tali Abacasis. Our music was written and performed by Aaron Esposito. Thanks for listening.
As soon as I got Ellie, my black-eyed, bat-eared German shepherd puppy, I trained her to be a good dog. And so she was. When I spoke, she listened. She kept her barks quiet and her teeth clean. Two years on, I started to think she was a little too obedient.
There was something pitiful about the way that, even unleashed in the park, she would stop at a fork in the path and look to me to point the way. In the house, she would pause behind a half-closed door instead of pushing through. She was hesitant, whining when she was unsure of herself in a way that clashed with her big muscles and pointy canines.
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