"I think I may see a way to resolve our differences," Mr. Cherkassov said. He put his feet side by side and leaned slightly forward, gripping the briefcase on his knees. "What do you know of the history of the dog?" he asked. "Well, he's always been man's best friend and the savage Indians used to eat him and ... and...." "The true dog, madame, was domesticated about twenty thousand years ago. He was originally the golden jackal, _Canis aureus_, which still exists in a wild state. Selective breeding for submissiveness and obedience over that long time has resulted in the retention through maturity of many traits normal only to puppyhood. The modern pureline golden jackal dog no longer develops a secret life of his own, with emotional self-sufficiency. He must love and be loved, or he dies." Monica sniffed. "What a beautiful name," Paula murmured. Martha nodded warily. "But, madame, there is also a kind of false dog. Certain Siberian tribes slow to reach civilized status also domesticated the northern wolf, _Canis lupus_. This was many thousands of years later, of course, and in the false dog the effect of long breeding is not so evident. He is loving as a puppy, but when he matures he is aloof and reserves his loyalty to one master. He is intensely loyal and will die for his master, but even to him he will display little outward affection. Perhaps a wag of the tail or a head laid on the knee, not too often. No others except quite young children may pet him at all. To all but his master he displays a kind of tolerant indifference unless he is molested, and then he defends himself." "What a horrible creature, not a dog at all!" Martha exclaimed. "Not culturally, you are quite correct, madame," Mr. Cherkassov agreed, shifting his hold on the briefcase and leaning further forward, "but unfortunately he is a dog biologically. Some wolf blood has crept into most of the jackal-derived breeds, you know. It betrays itself in high cheekbones and slanting eyes and in the _personality_ of the breed. The chow, for instance, has considerable wolf blood." "Chows!" Martha beaked her lips again. "I despise them! No better than cats!" Paula nodded emphatic agreement. "But your little Fiffalo, as you describe him, is probably of pure _Canis aureus_ descent and very highly bred." "I'm sure he is. Blood will tell. Monica, haven't I always said blood will tell?" Monica nodded, her eyes shining. Mr. Cherkassov shifted his position slightly, nearer to the chair edge. "Now moondog, Madame Stonery, is of the _lajka_ breed and has even more wolf blood than the chow. If you brought her back to Earth she would just walk away from you with cold indifference." "Not _really_?" "Madame, you know the wolf traits only as you find them tempered with the loving jackal traits in such dogs as the chow. But a _Russian_ dog! If you were to hand moondog a piece of meat, do you know what she would do?" "No. Tell me."