From Bonn to Tokyo: A brief history of dogs around the world

January is National Walk Your Dog Month here and in the US. It’s designed to raise awareness of dog obesity and get owners out there tramping the fields and parks, whatever the weather.

This January is a bit different. Thanks to lockdown, owners don’t need extra encouragement. They are the ones standing at the door with the lead in their mouths. If dogs had their way, they’d probably designate January National Give Us A Rest month, with badges saying Three Walks A Day Is Fine, Honestly.

Let’s instead dream, we humans and canines, of a time when we can roam where we wish in this dog-friendly land – and of places around the globe the dedicated dog lover can visit.

Let’s start at the birthplace of Beethoven: not the Saint Bernard in the eponymous 1992 doggy film, but the composer. Ludwig van Beethoven was born in the German city of Bonn 250 years ago. Some 14,000 years earlier, in Bonn’s Oberkassel area, a puppy died, probably of distemper. She was buried with her owners, a local Neanderthal couple.

Their discovery revolutionised our understanding of our distant ancestors. It seems Mr and Mrs Neanderthal cared for the puppy through several bouts of illness. Archeologists conclude they were as soppy about dogs as we are.

The Oberkassel pup is the oldest dog we know about – although some academics think dogs have been sharing our lives for as long as 30,000 years. The full story is in Bonn’s LVR-LandesMuseum. You can also walk up to Rabenlay viewing platform overlooking the quarry where the remains were found – a veritable Ark for dog lovers. 

I always assumed dogs were wolves which got domesticated. But the canine line appears to have developed separately to modern wolves (by ‘modern’, we mean at least 20,000 years ago). It also divided: there’s a definitive east-west split in doggy history.

To find the eastern branch, you need to be intrepid. In Papua New Guinea, the ‘Singing’ or ‘Stone Age’ dog is said to be the rarest in the world. And the sound they make is extraordinary, especially when they are howling in harmony.

Singing Dogs are related to the Australian dingo. It’s a rare privilege to see these remarkable, ancient, untameable dogs up close. That’s easily done from Adelaide at the Gorge National Park in the wonderful Adelaide Hills, a short drive from the CBD.

Then you can pop over the border (‘pop’ in Australian terms: it’s a mere five-hour drive) to the Victorian town of Casterton. I’ve a special bond with the place, as my wife was brought up there. When I first visited, it was a prosperous wool town, with a busy main street, local radio stations and thriving sports clubs. Then the Big Dry – the drought – hit.

Casterton’s saviour was a loveable, tough, intelligent dog called a Kelpie. They were first brought over from Scotland and bred near Casterton. Today, no cattle station in the land is complete without its resident Kelpies. Casterton rebranded itself as The Home of the Kelpie and as such brings in much-needed tourism revenue through its Kelpie Centre and the annual Casterton Kelpie Associations Australian Kelpie Muster on the weekend of the Queen’s birthday. This is the dog world’s equivalent of the Cheltenham Festival: not the most glamorous event in the calendar, but the one that attracts the real animal lovers and aficionados. 

If you want to see dogs in their element, go husky sledding. I’ve done it in a few places, but the very best is Aki’s pack in the Finnish part of Karelia. You are in hallowed dog territory here too: ancient dog samples have been found in Karelia from over 12,000 years ago.  

Let’s meet the modern Karelian dogs. You’re in a log cabin deep in the frozen woods. The dogs are next door: not always the quietest of neighbours, especially when there’s stinky salmon remains on the menu (fact: dogs love fish) and a run in the offing.

They get hitched to the sled and off you go across frozen lakes and silent forests. The huskies are super powerful and a bit crazy. There’s something wonderful about seeing dogs doing what they’re meant to do – just as there’s something sad about walking the streets of a city like Hong Kong and seeing huskies dragged about in the heat and the humidity, spending long days in air-conditioned flats. Let’s hope the husky fashion (inspired by the film Frozen, apparently) will fade and you’ll only see them where they’re meant to be seen: at the top of the world when it’s properly below freezing. 

There are lots of events that won’t happen in 2021. One that will be especially missed, but which we dog-followers always honour, is 8 April. That’s Hachiko day, named after the Akita Inu who, oblivious to his owner’s death at work, made his way to Tokyo’s Shibuya Station every day for nine years until his own passing in 1935. The statue of Hachiko is almost as famous as the nearby Scramble Crossing, thought to be the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world. 

The photograph of Hachiko’s wise, patient face is almost too much to bear, as is the American film based on his story, Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. A friend had to take a day off work after watching the movie. Reason: visual impairment caused by too much crying. I’ve heard worse excuses for a day off.

You don’t have to go all the way to Tokyo to pay a tearful tribute to our dogs’ fidelity. The Greyfriars Bobby statue in Edinburgh’s Candlemaker Row commemorates the Skye Terrier who guarded the grave of his owner for 14 years until his own death in 1872.

If I wanted to tie my heartstrings in knots, I’d probably head to Bistrita, the town in Northern Transylvania where my own dog Duchess was tied up, ignored and unloved, until she was rescued by the 1 Dog at a Time Rescue charity. It looks like a beautiful place, but I’m not sure I’d see very much beyond the plight of the street dogs there.

Much safer to watch the greatest, and certainly the funniest dog film ever: Christopher Guest’s Best in Show. It was mainly filmed in Vancouver. The fictional Mayflower Kennel Club Show is based on America’s Crufts, the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, which in June this year moves from its traditional New York home to an upstate (and outdoor) venue in Westchester. 

As I finish this article, I can feel Duchess’s eyes boring into the back of my head. Why are you encouraging people to go away?, she says. I hate travel articles. Lockdown is great. Let’s all stay here. Every day. Forever. 

You are deep in the beech woods of the Chilterns, but you also get to pile up and down some of southern England’s loveliest valleys.

The pub: The Old Swan, Swan Bottom, near Great Missenden

The ancient Roman road peters out into a delightful farm track through fields and fords.

The pub: The Cat & Custard Pot 

This celebrated stretch of sand and dune is an earthly paradise for the dogs of England. Don’t forget to bring an old towel.

The pub: The Victoria, Holkham. (Note: it gets busy)