I've been able to observe dogs in different states: familiar, domestic, and wild. I've seen them in Western countries, where they are almost entirely companion dogs, and I've seen them in countries where many are stray dogs: North Africa, Portugal, Mauritania, the Dominican Republic, India, and finally, Bali.
The dogs in Bali were an exception in my observations.
When I arrived here, I didn't understand why I couldn't touch the dogs I passed while walking, even though they lived with families. These dogs are free to come and go in and around houses — they live in the territory they've made their own.
These dogs would approach me, bark at me, but as soon as I reached out to pet them, they'd run away and show signs of fear. I didn't understand why, and this question kept nagging at me: why did almost all of them react this way when they lived with families? In some other countries, dogs are rightly afraid of humans, because they're chased away, sometimes violently, whenever they approach a person. But here, I've never seen any aggressive gesture toward a dog. So why were they afraid of humans?
First hypothesis: a behavior reproduced through imitation, from generation to generation — the mother behaves this way, and her puppies, who learn partly by imitation, observe her and then imitate this behavior, which they will in turn pass on to future generations. For this to happen, some initial trauma must have occurred, since this behavior is undoubtedly rooted in fear. On such a large scale and across such diverse locations, that seemed unlikely — but it remained a hypothesis.
Second hypothesis: genetic transmission.
The answer came to me when I took part in a sterilization campaign in a village. To sterilize the dogs, "the owners" had to bring them to us, and I noticed that none of them were able to touch their own dog — it was very difficult to even catch them. I then understood that almost all these dogs live with families, but no physical contact is ever exchanged, not even from birth. The puppies therefore receive no imprinting from physical contact with humans, and develop reactions of fear whenever that contact is attempted, simply because they're not used to it.
This very particular status is fascinating, because it harks back to the very beginning of the domestication of the wolf, which gave rise to the dog. The wolf approached humans to eat their leftovers, and humans saw in the wolf's presence a formidable tool for guarding and hunting: a cohabitation was born from the fruits of that collaboration. It was then that we domesticated the wolf and, by beginning to master its reproduction, transformed its physical appearance and named it "dog."
In Bali, the dog is in exactly the same situation: it stays close to humans, where it finds food, and guards a territory it considers shared — family plus dog. Whether the Balinese accept the presence of dogs for this reason, or simply because they're used to living among them, doesn't change the reality of this cohabitation — it doesn't change the fact that these dogs are, in every respect, the "prototypes" of the animal we originally domesticated. Utterly fascinating to observe.
Equally fascinating: the adaptability of this species. These dogs, who behave this way generation after generation, are capable of adapting to humans within a single generation. I myself have adopted, and have worked with clients who've adopted, puppies found at just a few weeks of age. As these puppies grow, they come to behave exactly like companion dogs in Western countries — taking on the same characteristics as dogs specifically bred for companionship. They become quite sociable. This makes the dog a remarkably adaptable species.
Having the chance to observe and work with these dogs is an invaluable source of knowledge for my profession. Observing them is like a journey through time that I'm given the opportunity to take — one that leads all the way back to when the wolf was first domesticated.
