My parents had a small terrier mix named Dude (his mother was a Cairn terrier and his father was a traveling man) and he went everywhere — to work, to the bank and pretty much wherever they went. They had friends with a beach house who put into their rental agreement that the only dog allowed was Dude Hardin. When I think back now, I think he was treated better than any of us kids.

And the black lab named Ace we had when I was a kid (we chose Ace because my stepfather was a Navy Captain, a fighter pilot in WWII) was human. I am sure of it. He would slide down sand dunes with us at the beach and then run around and get back in line. (He would do the same thing on a kid’s slide.) He knew the English language very well. He was the eyes and ears for our deaf Dalmatian named Dale and would lead her around and keep her safe. He also knew how to sneak into the community swimming pool for a swim on a hot summer day.

I think a lot of dogs have human characteristics. Or do they?

Alexandra Horowitz, author of “Inside of a Dog; What Dogs See, Smell and Know,” writes about how dog owners project human characteristics onto dogs. Do they really smile? Are they depressed when we leave for work? Do they look at us as part of their family or are we just part of the pack — a trait left over from what’s left of a wild wolf gene? Horowitz states that, “Our projections onto animals are often impoverished — or entirely off the mark.” Her Ph.D. studies were in Cognitive Science, particularly dog cognition, at the University of California at San Diego. She is a dog owner herself and, between her personal experiences and her studies of the minds of our canine friends, her book illuminates the human/dog relationship.

According to Horowitz, what we call “shaking hands” is actually a “submissive behavior of dogs, done to show that they are not threatening and to avoid an attack.” And… that a dog kiss is an attempt to get us to regurgitate the piece of meat we just ate — a behavior of their distant ancestors.

Some truly amazing things about dogs, she notes, is that their sense of smell is so great that they know when you’ve just eaten or petted another dog -- and they can even smell your emotions! “Dogs have the ability to sense the hormones we exude when we are scared and they can most likely detect other emotions as well,” Horowitz says. They also know all of your habits like when you are getting ready to leave the house, getting ready to cook dinner or when it’s time for their daily walk.

Unlike the seldom-heard barks of wolves, it is theorized that dogs have developed their own elaborate barking language in order to communicate with humans. My black lab Blue, for example, has developed a very high pitched bark (we call it chirping) to alert us that he needs something — to go outside, a treat, and the other day, to alarm me to the fact that I had let every dog back into the house except for my old, blind chihuahua, Cha Chi. I didn’t see him go outside but Blue did and he was frantic. He was barking at me and running back and forth from the back door where Cha Chi was and then back to me. He was genuinely concerned. On many evenings, if you walk past our house, you will hear the choral euphony of Blue and Duncan, our other black lab, when they are left behind to wait their turn on our nightly walks. Their howls complement each other perfectly — Blue sings tenor and Duncan sings bass.

Horowitz wants us to understand the dog’s Umwelt (OOM-velt) — what life is like to a dog. — a term created by German biologist Jacob von Uexküll. Pay more attention to what they can see, smell, and hear — what they think about and know about — in other words, what it’s like to be a dog. She also recommends spending quality time with your dog. “They need a daily dose of attention,” she says. “And not only in the form of food.” Many of us have to leave our dogs behind when we go to work. Horowitz recommends preparing a treasure hunt of small treats hidden around the house and to create “rituals” — a regular schedule of events that dogs can anticipate and rely on. 

 My dogs love hiking. I feel it is a great way to train them to be attentive and social. There are tons of trails in the White Mountains that are great for dogs that provide a plethora of smells to occupy any curious pup. Just keep in mind that you are walking in the home of other wild animals and keeping your dog on a leash is recommended to prevent unwelcome encounters.

Recently, Horowitz has been researching whether a dog distinguishes between humans that dole out food fairly and ones who don’t — in other words, do they have a sense of justice? This is something I wonder about every time I meticulously measure out each treat. I’m pretty sure my dogs know I’m fair. They haven’t complained.

A few weekends ago, my friend Alina drove up the mountain from Tucson to take her dogs out for a run in the snow. She has a kennel full of huskies, Samoyeds and a collection of small show dogs. She is the perfect example of providing rituals for her dogs. She has been training the huskies and Samoyeds to pull sleds for years and has developed a myriad of action words that her dogs understand and obey. “Line up” lets them know that she wants them to get ready to pull by extending the lines that they are connected to. “Hike” means “get going” and “Gee” and “Haw” are the directional terms to let them know which way to turn while out on the trail. It’s a human/dog connection that is considered a “team”

That same weekend, my dog Duncan, made his debut as a sled dog. We hooked him up as a wheel dog and I noticed, as he was pulled along by the lead dogs, he kept wanting to turn around toward me. I kept yelling “Keep going, Duncan! Good boy! Good boy!” All of a sudden, he figured it out. “She wants me to pull the sled,” he thought… and he kept going, smiling and wagging his tail. It was the first time that I really realized that dogs just want to please us. After running a loop with Duncan, we unhooked him because I thought he was tired. Alina took off with just her dogs. Duncan was confused and kept wanting to go after them. In his mind, I’m sure, he thought he was part of that team. 

…Well, I’m not really sure -- he is a dog, you know.