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

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

 

 

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

A study from 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. Measurable. Provable. 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 thing — that which cannot be measured in studies. What dogs show us every day. What we can learn from them if we truly look.

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 — descend from wolves. Genetically, dogs and wolves are still barely distinguishable from each other. Between 15,000 and 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 it. But because the wolves wanted it.

Researchers call it self-domestication (the development of a wild animal into a domestic animal by its own choice — not by human compulsion). Those wolves that were less afraid of humans — that came closer, that utilized food scraps and animals grazing near the huts, also seeking 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, but a decision. An evolutionary decision for proximity to humans.

12,000 years ago, in the region now called Israel, a human was buried. Their 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 his gift. He lives in both worlds. He reminds us of nature — and loves us despite it. Or precisely because of it.

Dogs in World Cultures — Always Close to the Sacred

What Hildegard felt, people around the world have felt. 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 underworld — 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 — Companion 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 supposed to heal the sick by 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: Scholotl) — depicted as a naked, wrinkled dog — 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 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, which transformed into large lions when in danger. 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 his master's return for nine years after his death in 1925. 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. Stares 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 Look

 

Go out. Always. In any weather.

Ezra wants to go out. Rain? No problem. Mud? Welcome. Cold? Even better. The colder, the happier.

And that means: I also go out. Not because I always want to — but because he needs it. And because afterwards I'm always glad I went. There's no such thing as bad weather — only unsuitable clothing. I always interpreted this sentence 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 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 inside.

Minni, however, has a different philosophy. Minni looks out the door when it rains. Turns around. Goes back inside. No pee. No walk. No interest. Grandma and Grandpa always went out — that's how they know it. But Minni is inspiring them right now. She shows them that it's okay to just turn around 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. Don't get stuck on something that used to be a real determination and focus and then just became habit or routine.

Two dogs. Two lessons. Both correct.

 

Honor Nature — Because Dogs Can Naturally Do It

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

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

 

Live in the moment — the only place dogs ever are

Ezra doesn't think about yesterday. He doesn't think about having swum in the Url three days ago or in the sea yesterday. He doesn't think about the vet tomorrow.

He thinks: Ball. Stream. Human. Run with Andreas. Now.

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

 

 

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

 

Allowing yourself to slow down — different is not less

In his last years, Bakku walked slower through the village. He stretched first, stood 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 less valuable because of it.

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 never showed boundaries, letting every ear be twisted, dragged everywhere, and cuddled through. Then came the "I don't like this now" phase.

Set 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 guilt.

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

 

Feeling connections that science has not yet explained

Dixi limped. All day. 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 belong to natural science yet. Not yet.

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

We stick to science — because it guides us, as an anchor, not as a doctrine. And sometimes we feel something that 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 outings. Daily attentiveness.

But it also means: being reminded daily. 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 Cannot Yet Say

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

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

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

A survey commissioned by Mars — the company behind pet food brands like Pedigree and Royal Canin — of 1,000 Austrian office workers revealed 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 things science cannot yet measure. Dixi, who limps. Ezra, who stands at the edge of the garden, staring into nothing. The connection that forms when you look into a dog's eyes.

 

A piece of my soul — in another being

When I look into Ezra's eyes, I see a piece 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 history, his own instincts, his own will. He greets me briefly when I come home. Briefly. Ah, you're back – good to see you – I'll carry on. And then he goes to Andreas. And then he deliberately comes for a cuddle. 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 stands there, watches every train – watches carefully – watches everyone getting off with high concentration. Then he sees me, comes towards me, gives me a brief touch. Done. She's here – let's continue.

And sometimes he stands at the edge of the garden. Gazing 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, the University of Uppsala, with 3.4 million data points, confirms 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 fully therapized. They haven't had the opportunity to talk about their experiences. No therapist to listen. No friend to say: look at it from another perspective. No outside perspective to help make sense of what they've experienced.

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

A study by Harvard University showed that traumatic experiences in the first months of life influence dog behavior as strongly as gender, age, or neutering — sometimes even more strongly. Dogs who experienced stressful events in the first six months of life showed significantly more fear and aggression in adulthood than dogs without such experiences.

Ezra and the watering can. That's not stubbornness. That's a body that remembers. That, as a young dog, was sprayed with the garden hose — 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 are over.

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

That's 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 wet himself. No amount of talking helped. No "it's just a bang." His body reacted. That was 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 lacks judgment. 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 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 can't do that. They react from what they've experienced — directly, unfiltered, without a detour through the intellect.

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 off the ground for the third time — I pause. And I 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're good — we'll learn it with people too. 🐾

References

This article is not a substitute for veterinary advice. This one certainly isn't. It's 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

 

In Conclusion

Ezra is lying next to me now. He's sleeping. His paws twitch – he's hunting in his dream.

The rabbit. The ball. Whatever dogs dream of.

And I look at him and think: you are a different being. With your own history, stretching 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 in it. Bigger. More exciting. Full of connections that would never have formed without him.

In a trattoria in Italy, a woman from Brazil sat next to us. She also had a Labrador Retriever – a female. I've forgotten her name. But I won't forget how she spoke of 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 is perhaps their greatest lesson. 🐾

This is the gift. Not loyalty alone. Not unconditional love alone. But the reminder – daily, warm, with paws and doggy breath – that we are part of something bigger. That nature has not abandoned us. That life is worth living. To go outside. To slow down. To be in the moment.

Hildegard knew it. We know it too. And need to be reminded of it every now and then.

So - and if you now want to read something about zeolite, please:

⭕️ 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.