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How many words does that doggy in the window know?

Burt's Eye View

By Burton Cole 3 min read

You don't have to learn animal languages like Dr. Doolittle did. Your dog understands human.

One of the big news stories last week was that researchers conducted MRI scans on the brains of 13 dogs while their owners talked to them. The scan images showed that dogs processed words with the left hemisphere of the brain and intonation with the right -- just like people, according to The Associated Press.

Dog owners already knew their mutts mastered the meaning of words. But researchers called it a "shocker."

"Dog brains care about both what we say and how we say it," lead researcher Attila Andics, a neuroscientist at Eotvos Lorand University in Budapest, told the AP.

It's just what you suspected all along -- dogs really are smarter than humans. If you take your dog to a political speech, the canine would know what the politician talked about it. Me, I'm stumped. I can't vote until a dog explains it me.

Andics said that other species probably have the ability to understand language like dogs do, but their lack of interest in human speech makes it difficult to test.

Which proves, I suspect, that squirrels are even smarter than dogs. A squirrel wouldn't let you drag it along to a political speech in the first place.

The fact that some animals learn human speak isn't new. Two of the more famous cases are of Koko the gorilla, a real chatterbox with sign language, and Alex, the African gray parrot who attached correct meanings to the words he spoke.

Personally, I'm more concerned about my wife and our cat.

Terry and I will be sitting in the living room reading books when Terry will look up and purr, "Meow."

"Meow." Molly the cat saunters in from the dining room.

"Meow." Terry sets down her book.

"Meow." Molly jumps onto the couch and perches on Terry's lap.

"Meow." The two of them sit nose to whiskers, exchange all the gossip of the day: "Meow." "Meow."

Then both of them glance my way and giggle. If you think a cat's meow gets annoying, you should hear one giggle.

"What is she saying about me?" I yelp.

"Oh, sweetheart," Terry coos. "You know cats can't talk."

Now I'm not so sure.

In the Dr. Doolittle books, author Hugh John Lofting writes about the time a man was accused of murder and his dog was put on the witness stand. The judge in Her Majesty's Royal Court wasn't about to allow such a thing until Dr. Doolittle carried on a rip-snorting conversation with the judge's dog. The judge called a halt to that before the dog told all of his secrets. And the judge allowed Bob, the dog of the accused, to testify, saving his master's life.

Pure fiction, of course. But is it? What if researchers figure out how to let dogs talk? One day I planned to skip work and relax at the lake:

"Hello, boss? (Cough, cough.) I'm not feeling (cough, cough) well. I need to stay home. (Cough, cough.)"

"Put Fluffy on the phone."

"Fluffy? But… I… (Sigh.) I'll there in 20 minutes."

There's nothing worse than a waggy-tail-turned-tattletale. I need a safer pet. I wonder what the word is about goldfish.

— Bark at Cole at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.

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