What is my dog
actually thinking?
Can't play sound? The illustrated version is right below.
Read the transcript
The full narration of the video.
The slipper's in shreds. Your dog hunches down, eyes peeking up at you. Everyone says: look, it knows it did wrong. Yet in one experiment, the dogs that looked the most guilty were the ones that hadn't stolen anything. So what is my dog actually thinking? In 2009, the American psychologist Alexandra Horowitz brought in 14 dogs. Each owner set down a treat, said "leave it," and stepped out.
Some dogs ate it, some didn't. When the owner came back, the researcher said whether the dog had eaten it, sometimes deliberately getting it backwards. The owner believed it, and scolded or praised. The result: the guilty look had no clear link to whether the dog ate the treat, but a big link to whether the owner scolded. The deepest cringing came from dogs that hadn't eaten anything but got scolded anyway.
So that face isn't really saying "I was wrong," it's more like "please don't be angry." It isn't replaying the past. It's reading your face, right now. Fourteen dogs isn't much evidence, though later experiments found much the same. So when you talk to it, what does it actually take in? In 2016, scientists in Hungary had 13 dogs lie still in a brain scanner and listen to their trainer talk.
The same "good dog," once in a happy voice, once flat. Then a meaningless word, said happily. The left side of the dog's brain handled which word it was, the right side listened to the tone. Only when word and tone both matched did the brain's "feel good" spot light up. So if you say "good dog" in a cold voice, it can probably tell you're not really praising it.
So which does it want more: your praise, or a treat? Another team in the US showed 15 dogs three toys: one meant food, one meant praise from the owner, one meant nothing. Of the 15, four reacted more to praise, nine about the same, and only two clearly preferred food.
Then came a little maze: food on one side, the owner on the other. The dogs that loved praise most chose their owner eight or nine times out of ten. And a big part of its world is invisible to us: its nose has about 300 million smell sensors. Ours has around 6 million. You see a slipper. It smells you, all over it.
Put it together: it doesn't dwell on the past, but it's always reading your face, your voice, your smell. So what's my dog thinking? Mostly, about you. Of course, that's only what scientists can see so far. There's plenty in a dog's head we still don't know. Try it tonight: say "good dog" flat, then happy, and watch which time the tail wags harder.
Which kind is your dog: tail going the moment you praise it, or only in it for the treats?
That “I did it” face
The slipper is in shreds. Your dog sinks its head and peeks up at you.
Everyone says: look, it knows it did wrong. Yet in one experiment, the dogs that looked the most guilty were the ones that had done nothing.
Fourteen dogs and one treat
In 2009, American psychologist Alexandra Horowitz brought in 14 dogs. Each owner set down a treat, said “leave it,” and stepped out.
Some dogs ate it, some didn’t. When the owner came back, the researcher said whether the dog had eaten it — sometimes on purpose getting it backwards. The owner believed it and scolded, or praised.
The result: the guilty look had no clear link to whether the dog ate the treat — but a big link to whether the owner scolded.
The lowest heads belonged to dogs that hadn’t eaten anything but got scolded anyway.
Fourteen dogs isn’t much evidence, but a later study in Hungary saw much the same thing.
“Good dog” has to sound right
In 2016, scientists in Hungary had 13 dogs lie still in a brain scanner and listen to their trainer say the same “good dog” — once happily, once flatly — plus a meaningless word, said happily.
The left side of the dog’s brain handled which word it was; the right side listened to the tone. Only when the word and the tone were both right did the brain’s “feel good” spot light up.
Say “good dog” in a cold voice, and it can probably tell you’re not really praising it.
That head tilt when you talk may be part of listening hard, too.
Praise or a treat?
Another team in the US showed 15 dogs three toys: one meant food, one meant praise from the owner, one meant nothing — while watching how brightly the brain’s “I want that” spot lit up.
Then came a little maze: food on one side, the owner on the other. The praise lovers chose their owner eight or nine times out of ten. Fifteen dogs is too few to speak for all dogs — and many dogs like being petted even more than words.
300 million smell cells
A big part of a dog’s world is invisible to us. Its nose has about 300 million smell cells (depending on breed); ours has around 6 million.
You see a slipper. It smells you, all over it.
Mostly, it’s thinking about you
It doesn’t dwell on the past much, but it’s always reading you: your face, your voice, your smell.
So if you come home, find the slipper and scold, it mostly just learns that you’re angry. Of course, this is only what scientists can see so far — there’s plenty in a dog’s head we still don’t know.
say “good dog”
once flatly,
then happily.
Quick check
Your dog sinks its head and peeks up at you when you get home. What is it most likely thinking?
In the experiment, the lowest heads belonged to dogs that ate nothing but got scolded: the look tracks your anger, not what the dog did.
