What we can learn from dogs - and why science is proving Hildegard von Bingen right

Hildegard of Bingen wrote about dogs in the 12th century. Not as pets. Not as useful animals. But like this:

 

 

850 years later, a study by Uppsala University analyzed health data from over 3.4 million people. The result:

A study by Uppsala University observed over 3.4 million people for more than a decade. The result: during this period, dog owners died less often than people without dogs — the risk of dying during this period was 24 percent lower. In other words: dogs prolong life. Measurably. Verifiably. Across millions of people. And dog owners die less often from cardiovascular diseases.

Hildegard knew it. Science now confirms it.

But between these two sentences lies the real essence — that which cannot be measured in studies. What dogs show us daily. What we can learn from them if we truly observe.

The Ancient Wolf in Every Dog — and Why That Explains Everything

Before we can learn what dogs teach us, we must understand who they are. And where they come from.

All dogs — from Ezra, the Labrador Retriever, to Minni, the small Entlebucher Mountain Dog — are descended from wolves. Genetically, dogs and wolves are still barely distinguishable today. 15,000 to 40,000 years ago, during the last ice age when mammoths died out and hunting became more difficult, the first wolves approached human campfires. Not because humans wanted them to. But because the wolves wanted to.

Researchers call it self-domestication (the development of a wild animal into a domestic animal by its own decision — not by human compulsion). Those wolves that were less afraid of humans — that came closer, used food scraps and animals in the pasture outside the huts, and also sought the warmth of the fire — survived better. Their offspring were tamer. And after thousands of generations, the dog emerged from the wolf.

It was not subjugation, so to speak. It was a choice. An evolutionary choice for proximity to humans.

12,000 years ago, a human was buried in the region now called Israel. His hands held a young animal — whether dog or wolf can no longer be said. It is one of the oldest known burials of a human with their dog. They did not want to be separated. Not even in death.

The wolf in Ezra is still there. Deep inside. He sniffs the grass like his ancestors. He watches over his humans. He knows who belongs — like Bakku, who walked through the village and knew everyone who belonged there.

And at the same time, he is so much more than a wolf. He chose us. Again and again. Every new day.

 

 

Perhaps that is precisely their gift. They live in both worlds. They remind us of nature — and still love us. Or precisely because of that.

Dogs in the Cultures of the World — Always Close to the Sacred

What Hildegard sensed, people all over the world have sensed. For millennia. In almost all great cultures, the dog appears — not as an ordinary animal, but as a companion between worlds.

Egypt — Anubis, the Dog-Headed God

Anubis — the god of the dead and the afterlife — had the head of a dog or jackal. He watched over the deceased. He weighed their hearts. He accompanied souls on their journey. The dog as guardian of the threshold between life and the Other.

Greece — Companions of the Gods

Artemis, Dionysus, Aphrodite — they all had dogs by their side. To the healing god Asclepius (the Greek god of medicine), the dog was even considered a sacred animal — his temples were inhabited by dogs that were believed to heal the sick through touch and licking. And Odysseus — returned home after 20 years of wandering — was recognized by no one except his old dog Argos. He recognized him instantly. So the story goes.

Aztecs — Xolotl, the Soul Companion

The Aztec god Xolotl (pronounced: Sho-lotl) — depicted as a naked dog with wrinkles — was the companion of souls to the afterlife. He guided the deceased through the underworld. Without Xolotl, no soul could find its way. Aztecs and Mayans therefore buried their dead with dogs — so that they would not go alone.

China — Fo, the Dog Deity

In the Chinese dynasties, a dog named Fo is reported — a deity in dog form, guardian of homes and protector of ancestral tombs. Buddha himself is said to have always been surrounded by small lion dogs that transformed into large lions when danger threatened. And in the Chinese zodiac, the dog stands for loyalty, honesty, and endurance.

Japan — Hachiko

Hachiko — an Akita dog from Tokyo — waited daily at the train station for nine years after his owner's death in 1925 for his return. Nine years. Until his own death. Today, a bronze statue of him stands in front of Shibuya Station. The symbol of loyalty that needs no explanation.

 

In almost all cultures — Egypt, Greece, Aztecs, Mayans, China, Japan — the dog is the companion at the border. The guardian of the threshold. The being that stands between worlds.

Ezra sometimes stands at the edge of the garden. Staring into nothing. Or into everything. I don't know. But I sometimes wonder what he sees or feels.

What Dogs Teach Us Daily — If We Observe

 

Go out. Always. In any weather.

Ezra wants to go out. Rain? No problem. Mud? Welcome. Cold? Even better. The colder, the more he likes it.

And that means: I also go out. Not because I always want to — but because he needs it. And because afterwards I am always glad I went. There is no bad weather — only unsuitable clothing. I always interpreted this saying too literally. Now I let go of judging. It is what it is. No emotion in the world can change the weather. Let go of the thoughts about it. Or choose thoughts that bring me into a better emotion like: My complexion is replenished with fresh, fine moisture.

Dog owners, on average, take significantly more steps per day. They have lower blood pressure. Better heart values. And they are outside when others are sitting indoors.

Minni, however, has a different philosophy. Minni looks out the door in the rain. Turns around. Goes back inside. No pee. No walk. No interest. Grandma and grandpa always used to go out — that's how they knew it. But Minni is inspiring them right now. She shows them that you can simply turn back when it rains. That you can make life easier for yourself. That you can change your mind again and again. If the context changes, my feeling about it, if it no longer feels right, then I can make a new choice. Not get stuck on something that was once a real determination and focus and then just became habit or routine.

Two dogs. Two lessons. Both right.

 

Honoring Nature — Because Dogs Can Do It Naturally

Ezra sniffs the grass. Licks it. Chooses carefully. He doesn't just take what he finds — he tests. He decides. He knows what he needs.

This is a being still close to nature. One that still feels what is good for it. One that doesn't think — but feels. We humans have somewhat forgotten this or are no longer as practiced. Dogs remind us that the earth gives us what we need — if we are attentive enough.

 

Living in the Moment — The Only Place Dogs Ever Are

Ezra doesn't think about yesterday. He doesn't think about swimming in the Urk three days ago or in the sea yesterday. He doesn't think about the vet tomorrow.

He thinks: Ball. Stream. Mom. Running with Andreas. Now.

This is not stupidity — it is a form of wisdom we have unlearned. We carry the past with us. We worry about the future. And in doing so, sometimes miss the present.

 

 

He meant that lightness. That ease. That ability to start anew every morning — without resentment, without worry, without the weight of yesterday.

 

Being Allowed to Slow Down — Different Is Not Less

Bakku walked slower through the village in his last years. He would stretch first, stand for a moment — and only then was he ready. Every meter still. Still himself.

We thought: it's just old age. But Bakku showed us something deeper. That slower is not less. That different is not worse. That a body that needs more time is not therefore less valuable.

In a world that is getting faster and faster, this is a radical lesson. Not doing less because you have to — but being allowed to be different because you are. With dignity. With history. With everything you were and still are. And in his last days, he also allowed himself to growl. He had never shown boundaries, letting every ear be twisted, dragged everywhere, and cuddled through. Then came the "I-don't-like-that-anymore" phase.

Showing Boundaries — Clearly and Without Apology

Minni says no. Clearly. Distinctly. Without apology. Rain? No. Snow? No. She turns around and goes back into the house. No justification. No bad conscience.

How many of us could do that more often? Say no without having to explain it. Show boundaries without apologizing. Take our own body seriously — just like Minni does, completely naturally, every rainy day anew. And you don't have to accept everything. Not every treat tastes good. Don't swallow out of gratitude - SPIT IT OUT please. Turn away. Leave it lying next to you until doomsday. Until it's put away. Don't be manipulated. My taste. My decision.

 

Feeling Connections That Science Has Not Yet Explained

Dixi limped. All day long. On the same side where my brother broke his leg — it started on the same day. While he was on a ski trip.

Natural science says: coincidence. Perhaps. But perhaps this phenomenon simply doesn't yet belong to natural science. Not yet.

Dogs sense earthquakes before humans measure them. They smell diseases that no device detects. They notice when someone is sad — even without words.

We adhere to science — because it guides us, as an anchor, not as doctrine. And sometimes we feel something it cannot yet explain. Both have their place. Life is greater than what we can measure.

Care as a Daily Practice

Having a dog means: daily responsibility. Daily going out. Daily looking closely.

But it also means: daily being reminded. That another being counts on you. That you are needed. That life, even in the small things — in the daily walk, in drying off, in thawing bones — has meaning. And care must be practiced. I know: just because I am caring for my dog doesn't mean I can do it for myself. But it would be a start.

 

What science says — and what it can't yet say

The numbers are impressive. People with a dog have a 24 percent lower overall risk of death. Dog owners have a 33 percent lower risk of dying from cardiovascular disease. For heart attack patients living alone and owning a dog, the risk of death was 33 percent lower — and for stroke survivors, it was 27 percent lower.

Petting a dog releases oxytocin (the "cuddle hormone" — a neurotransmitter that promotes well-being, reduces stress, and strengthens trust). Cortisol (the stress hormone) decreases. Blood pressure and heart rate drop.

Studies by Central Michigan University show that dogs in offices improve trust and communication among team members.

A survey of 1,000 Austrian office workers commissioned by Mars — the corporation behind pet food brands like Pedigree and Royal Canin — found that one in three would prefer to come to the office if dogs were allowed. The result is interesting — but the source is not independent, which should be mentioned for completeness.

And then there are the things science cannot yet measure. Dixi, who limps. Ezra, who stands at the edge of the garden, staring into nothing. The connection that arises when you look into a dog's eyes.

 

A part of my soul — in another being

When I look into Ezra's eyes, I see a part of my soul in him. And I feel completely connected to him.

He is another being. Not me. Not human. Something else — with his own story, his own instincts, his own will. He greets me briefly when I come home. Briefly. Oh, you're back — glad to see you — I'll get back to what I was doing. And runs to Andreas. And then he deliberately comes for cuddles. Mostly in the afternoon, when everything is done.

No drama. No fuss. Simply: there. And then on.
Yesterday they picked me up from the station again. From the platform. He's standing there, watching every train — watching closely — observing everyone getting off with high concentration. Then he sees me, comes towards me, gives me a quick touch. Done. She's here - let's go.

And sometimes he stands at the edge of the garden. Looks in a direction where I see nothing. Motionless. Alert. As if perceiving something beyond my senses.

I don't know what he sees. But I believe he sees more than I do. The wolf in him. The 40,000-year-old DNA. The being that stands between worlds.

In almost all cultures, the dog was the companion at the border. The guardian of the threshold. Anubis with the dog's head. Xolotl, who guides souls. Perhaps this is no coincidence.

 

 

She felt it in the 12th century. 12,000 years ago, a human was buried with their dog because they didn't want to be separated. And today, Uppsala University confirms with 3.4 million data points what every dog person has always known:

A dog makes life longer. Healthier. Richer.

But most importantly — and this cannot be measured — it makes it more complete. 🐾🧡

Dogs carry their history — without words

Our dogs are not "therapized". They never had the chance to talk about their experiences. No therapist to listen. No friend to say: look at it from another perspective. No external perspective to help contextualize what they've been through.

They simply carry it. In their bodies. In their behavior. In the reactions that sometimes surface and leave us puzzled.

A Harvard University study showed that traumatic experiences in the first months of life affect dogs' behavior as strongly as sex, age, or neutering — sometimes even more so. Dogs who had stressful experiences in the first six months of life showed significantly more fear and aggression as adults than dogs without such experiences.

Ezra and the watering can. That's not stubbornness. That's a body that remembers. That was sprayed with a garden hose as a young dog — with anger, with disappointment — and never forgot it. Traumatic experiences leave not only memories, but a persistent state of stress in the nervous system — even long after the events have passed.

One time with the garden hose. Just once. The brain decided: danger. And it never revisited that decision. No conversation changed it. No explanation. No matter how loving the repetition. Simply: once was once too much.

That is fascinating — and instructive. We humans sometimes believe that a good conversation can heal everything. Dogs remind us that some things are deeper. In the nervous system. In the body. Beyond words.

Bakku was so afraid of thunder and fireworks that he would run under the table — and sometimes even pee. No amount of talking helped. No "it's just a bang." The body reacted. That's it.

And Ezra — when Andreas puts the suitcases in the hallway — he lies down next to them. Guards them. As if he could prevent them from leaving if he just watched long enough. He doesn't want to cycle. He doesn't want to play. He waits. Offended. Sad. Real.

Winnie, who eats everything. Not because she has no sense. But because her body has learned: eat now, because you don't know if something will come later. That's not bad behavior — that's stored life history.

And what about us humans? We have words. We have therapy. We have the ability to say: that was then. That's not who I am today. We can develop perspectives. Decide to react differently.

Dogs cannot do that. They react based on what they have experienced — directly, unfiltered, without detour through the mind.

That doesn't make them weaker. It makes them more honest.

And sometimes — when Ezra has run away from the watering can, or is guarding the suitcases, or Winnie eats the chestnut from the ground for the third time — then I pause. And think: what is this dog carrying? What has he experienced that I don't know? And what would he say if he could?

Perhaps that would be the deepest lesson of all. Not pity. But understanding. Curiosity. The willingness to ask: what's behind it — before I judge.

We practice this with dogs. And perhaps — if we are good — we also learn it with people. 🐾

References

This article does not replace veterinary advice. This one certainly does not. It is meant to inform, touch — and remind us of what we sometimes forget.

 

No.	Author/Year	Topic	Source
1	Mubanga et al. (2017)	Dog ownership and risk of cardiovascular disease — 3.4 million Swedes, 12 years	Scientific Reports / Uppsala University
2	Levine et al. (2013)	Pet Ownership and Cardiovascular Risk — Statement of the American Heart Association	Circulation / AHA
3	Virginia Commonwealth University (2012)	Office dogs significantly reduce stress levels	International Journal of Workplace Health Management
4	Central Michigan University	Dogs improve trust and communication in teams	CMU Study Office Dogs
5	Mars Austria / iVOX (2024)	1,000 Austrian office workers: Dogs in the office reduce stress	Mars Austria Press Release
6	Serpell, J. (1995)	The Domestic Dog in the No Man's Land Between Human and Non-Human	The Domestic Dog: Its Evolution, Behaviour and Interactions with People
7	Hildegard von Bingen (12th Century)	On Dogs — Loyalty, Warmth and Closeness to Humans	Physica / Causae et Curae
8	Bergström et al. (2022)	Dog domestication — two wolf populations, Ice Age	Nature

Finally

Ezra is now lying next to me. He's sleeping. His paws twitch — he's chasing something in his dream.

The rabbit. The ball. Whatever dogs dream about.

And I look at him and think: you are a different being. With your own history, going back 40,000 years. With your own preferences and also traumas. With your own way of seeing the world.

My world is better because Ezra is there. Bigger. More exciting. Full of connections that would never have happened without him.

In a trattoria in Italy, a woman from Brazil sat next to us. She also had a Labrador Retriever — a female dog. I forgot her name. But I won't forget how she talked about her. She misses her so much. We started talking about what dogs like — her dog loved avocados. Ezra loves mangoes.

The next day, walking through the vineyards — a man. He looks at Ezra and says: che bello! We communicated with hands and feet. He had two dogs like Ezra. I miss them. And his wife doesn't want any new ones.

Two encounters that would not have happened without Ezra.

Being seen. Being appreciated. Connecting. Dogs can do that. Without words. Without explanation. Just like that. That's perhaps their greatest lesson. 🐾

That is the gift. Not just loyalty. Not just unconditional love. But the reminder — daily, warm, with paws and dog breath — that we are part of something bigger. That nature has not abandoned us. That life is worth living. Going out. Slowing down. Being in the moment.

Hildegard knew it. We know it too. And need to be reminded again and again.

And if you want to support your dog from the inside – just like Hildegard would have done from the outside – then zeolite is a small, natural start.

Effect, application, experience - overview & guide to zeolite for dogs: Everything you always wanted to know about zeolite for dogs
Dosage and application of Steinkraft Zeolite for dogs. A guide for dog lovers.

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