Lola

In Short

This book functions as both a personal memoir and a controversial case study in early 20th-century animal psychology. It details the author’s intensive, systematic efforts to teach an Airedale terrier named Lola to communicate through a system of rhythmic paw taps, representing letters and numbers. By chronicling the dog’s supposed mastery of arithmetic, spatial measurement, and complex emotional speech, the author argues for the existence of a sophisticated animal consciousness. The work has endured as a fascinating, if debated, artifact of a historical era captivated by the "thinking animals" phenomenon.

The Story

The narrative begins with a passionate plea for a new, unbiased approach to understanding the animal mind. The author, inspired by predecessors who worked with the famous "thinking horses" of Elberfeld and a spelling dog named Rolf, seeks to determine if higher animals possess latent intellectual faculties. After securing Lola, a two-year-old dog previously owned by a noted dog psychologist, the author begins a rigorous, daily curriculum.

The training proceeds from basic numerals to multiplication, then to the complexities of spelling. Lola learns to identify objects, judge weights, and even calculate time by reading clock faces. As the bond between human and animal deepens, the scope of their communication expands beyond mere parlor tricks. Lola begins to offer spontaneous, often weary, insights into her own experience—complaining of fatigue, expressing love, and even offering philosophical observations about why dogs feel compelled to console their grieving human companions.

However, the arc is not one of linear progression. As the novelty of the lessons fades, Lola grows indifferent and occasionally defiant. The author candidly captures the dog’s "disillusionment" with the labor, noting that Lola often provides nonsensical answers or flatly refuses to work when she feels uninspired. The author acknowledges that her charge is not a machine but a temperamental individual, prone to mischief and stubbornness.

The book concludes not with a final triumph, but with an open-ended reflection on the nature of this "rapport." The inclusion of a concluding chapter by Dr. William Mackenzie provides a critical counterpoint to the author's enthusiasm. Mackenzie suggests that the "wonders" witnessed might not be proof of animal intellect in the human sense, but rather a form of "psychic automatism" or telepathic exchange between the dog and the human. The account ends on a note of uncertainty, leaving the reader to decide whether they have witnessed the dawn of interspecies communication or a strange, subconscious performance orchestrated by the human mind.

How It Unfolds

The premise is established The author introduces her ambition to explore the "ensouled" nature of animals, arguing that science has too long ignored the intellectual potential of dogs. She sets the stage by summarizing earlier, highly publicized investigations into spelling dogs and horses to validate her own methodology.

The curriculum begins Lola is introduced as a receptive pupil, and the author details the patient, incremental process of teaching a dog to translate paw taps into values. They start with simple addition, move to fractions, and eventually tackle the complexities of reading time and measuring spatial distances.

The rapport deepens The instruction shifts from academic tasks to emotional exchange, where Lola begins to articulate her feelings. The dog describes her bond with humans and gives her own interpretation of why dogs act as confidants to their owners in times of sorrow.

The spirit wanes A period of decline sets in as Lola loses interest in the repetitive nature of her "work." The author documents the dog's increased stubbornness and the struggle to extract anything but the most begrudging, weary responses during lessons.

The critical assessment The book concludes with an external analysis by a scientist who attempts to reconcile the "miraculous" results with more grounded psychological theories. This section pivots from personal memoir to an academic inquiry into the nature of telepathy and the "mediumistic" connection between trainer and animal.

The People

Henny Kindermann acts as the primary investigator and the narrative anchor. She is deeply committed to the idea that animals possess a "spirit" deserving of respect and intellectual engagement. Her approach is characterized by intense devotion and a genuine, if perhaps blinded, love for her subject. She is determined to prove that her dog is a conscious, thinking peer, yet she maintains enough self-awareness to document her failures, the dog’s moods, and her own frustrations.

Lola, the Airedale terrier, is the central, enigmatic subject. She starts as a diligent, eager pupil, showing an uncanny aptitude for abstract concepts. However, as the experiments progress, her personality emerges as that of a complex, feeling creature rather than a mere vessel for intelligence. She is not a flawless performer; she is capable of boredom, mischief, and even emotional exhaustion. By the end, she functions as a mirror to her owner, challenging the author’s desire to treat her as an object of scientific study.

Dr. William Mackenzie serves as the final, tempering presence. He brings a detached, scientific rigor to the text. While he does not accuse the author of fraud, he questions the premise of animal intelligence entirely, offering instead the unsettling hypothesis that the results are a product of a shared, subconscious mental state. He acts as the voice of reason that prevents the book from descending into pure sentimentality.

In Its Own Voice

"What is imperative is that we should investigate to what degree the higher animals have been dowered with sensibility, and to what extent this can be utilized: whether it can crystallize--so to speak--into what is known to us as thought."

In her preface, the author outlines the scientific ambition that drives her to treat the animal mind as a valid area of intellectual exploration.

"I also attempted to make her understand that she would be able to help other dogs--in fact, help all dear animals, if she was industrious, thus showing people how much a dog could do--when it was able to count and spell!"

The author explains the altruistic, albeit anthropocentric, justification she used to motivate Lola during their daily lessons.

"Why are you looking at me so crossly?" "We." "In your head?" "Yes." "What has given you a headache?" "Learning."

This exchange captures the tension in their relationship as the dog, feeling the weight of the curriculum, expresses her fatigue in a way that feels uncomfortably human.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book examines the ethical and intellectual boundaries we draw between humans and animals. It questions whether intelligence is a purely human province or a spectrum that we have failed to recognize in other species. More deeply, it serves as a meditation on the nature of communication. By the end, the focus shifts from whether a dog can do math to the darker, more mysterious question of how much of our own inner life we project onto those we love. It asks whether we can ever truly "know" an animal, or if we are merely trapped in a hall of mirrors, reflecting our own consciousness back at ourselves under the guise of scientific inquiry.

Why Read It Today

Readers with a fascination for the history of psychology, animal behavior, or the strange intersections of science and spiritualism will find this book deeply compelling. It reads like a relic of a vanished era, full of early-twentieth-century earnestness and a style of scientific inquiry that feels both quaint and profoundly unsettling. There is a melancholy beauty in the author’s struggle to bridge the gap between species, and the reader will likely find themselves constantly oscillating between skepticism—wondering if the dog is truly reading the author’s mind—and empathy for the dog’s clear, weary frustration.

The text does present challenges. The author’s period attitudes toward animal "training" and her occasional reliance on the "mediumistic" jargon of her time may strike modern readers as antiquated or pseudo-scientific. Additionally, the inclusion of the dog's "spelled" responses—often broken, phonetic German—can be difficult to decipher, though the author provides helpful context for the meanings. Despite these hurdles, it remains a gripping, haunting account of a woman convinced she had broken the barrier between the human and the beast. It lingers in the mind, forcing us to rethink the silent intelligence of our own pets and the ways we project our sorrows onto the creatures that share our homes.