DOGS: A Startling New Understanding of Canine Origin, Behavior, and Evolution.

By Raymond Coppinger and Lorna Coppinger. Scribner. 352 pp. $26

Even with dogs, there is a backlash. Elizabeth Marshall Thomas wrote a brilliant book, The Hidden Life of Dogs (1996), a masterpiece of observation, description, and empathy. It inspired many readers, and was followed by other books in a similar vein, including Marjorie Garber’s thorough study Dog Love (1997), Caroline Knapp’s beautifully written Pack of Two (1998), and Thomas’s own followup, The Social Life of Dogs (2000). So it was inevitable, I suppose, that Stephen Budiansky would write the bad-tempered The Truth about Dogs (2000), faulting the earlier books for being sentimental. I have never understood what is so terrible about being sentimental, for which read emotional, when one feels passionate about a topic.

The Coppingers—he is a professor of biology at Hampshire College and the author of Fishing Dogs (1996); she is the author of The World of Sled Dogs (1977)—are scientific but not disputatious. Their bibliography lists only specialized works, with nothing for the general reader. Theirs is not an easy book to read, understand, or love, but it is plainly the work of two people who know a hell of a lot, and anybody interested in dogs ought to read it.

A chapter on sled dogs illustrates the book’s strengths and weaknesses. When the distance to be covered exceeds 10 miles, the Coppingers point out, modern racing sled dogs are the fastest animals in the world. In the annual Iditarod Trail Race in Alaska, teams average 125 miles a day for nearly nine days—which is the equivalent of running five marathons a day for nine days. Why do the dogs do it? The Coppingers argue that the reward is intrinsic in the performance—it just feels good. Fair enough, but they say almost nothing about the relationship between dog and driver, or about the costs of the sport, such as the selective culling (i.e., killing off puppies) required to get the perfect sled dog.

While mostly enthusiastic about sled dogs, they raise serious questions about service dogs, such as seeing-eye dogs and dogs that pull wheelchairs. They question whether the animals can possibly enjoy work that, unlike the work of sled dogs, is not in their genetic history. They also demonstrate that the physical work of pulling a wheelchair is very hard on the dog. But, again, they say nothing about the bond that develops between dogs and their guardians (I won’t call them owners). And they apply their master-slave critique selectively; the exploitation of sled dogs and herding dogs doesn’t trouble them.

The Coppingers’ interest in the emotional lives of dogs seems limited to aggression, but they do a fantastic job of exploring that topic. I always wondered how a dog that guards sheep could possibly fend off a wolf much stronger than itself. According to the Coppingers, a predator rarely engages a dog in a fight, because victory is bound to be costly in terms of energy and potential injuries. Even bears, consequently, are cautious around dogs.

There is lots more here that is first rate—scientific explanations and conjectures that are intelligent, well observed, even brilliant. But sometimes you wish the Coppingers were not quite so scientific, that they were willing to indulge readers, if not themselves, with a bit more sentiment, a few more telling anecdotes, and a great deal more imaginative empathy.

—Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson