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For me, I know, it is one of the most impossible questions: 'the difference between me and an animal'. This question is in the same category as 'where does eternity end?' (my answer is always: 'I'll tell you when I'm dead'). Please take note: I am not asking the difference between You and an animal. That would complicate the questions even more. Like; 'you smell like a dog'.

I share a house with a friend and one of his sons, I have known him since childhood. Literally since we were 5 years old on Java. That is only a detail. But we both came from families where animals were welcome. Animals were part of our lives and they were loved as one of us.

At the time we didn't live in societies that particularly loved these creatures. The people were often too poor to think about this luxury: a house pet. Not a house protector or guard, simply a fluffy wuffy wooffy hoofing or miauwing animal. A pet didn't work for a living like the Shephard dogs or the so popular hunting dogs. A pet, correction: 'The Pet'.

I know when we lived in Iran in the sixties the Shah Reza Pahlevi had a Siamese pussy and all hell broke lose when it went missing. I can imagine in those totally egoistical and feudal days HRH the Shah would have had highways built to rescue his blue eyed cat. Iran's secret police SAVAK rounded up a number of known 'cat burglars'. He did sit on the 'Peacock throne' after all.

But I am not talking about that kind of madness.

It is this reality: does the animal I love so very much have anything in common with my Humaneness? Me being me and Woofwoof being him? The look I see in its eyes is so full of love, or am I imagining this. Reading too much into something that is human?

I lived on a farm In Portugal and we had 300 cows mooing around and two bulls. The bulls knew which cow belonged to his harem. One day a cow gave birth to a baby calf but its legs were skewiff, back to front. The Shepherd had left the animals in the shed. The mother and her baby. The fascinating story is the behaviour of the bull, the daddy: He never left the entrance to the stable, day or night. Never, not even for a feed. Even the shepherd could not make the bull budge. He finally left after the Shepherd had put the calf out of its misery.

How did the bull feel this? Did it, or he, know anything. How? It amazes me that I cannot imagine how an animal really thinks. Seems easy. What did the other bull think/feel?

We have this amazing dog called Angelo. A little bit of his background. My friend found him on the Internet. Sounds familiar. People looking for love on the Net. Anyway, this dog, this miracle, came from a lovely family in Cairns. The lady of the house received us. She and four children were waiting. Waiting for us to take away their dog! Waiting to take their 'Angel' away.

They only had to find another home for the dog because they were moving. It was truly impossible for them. But the horrid sadness for that family and what about the dog Angelo's memories?

So we inherited this dog who was totally loved by his family. Put him in the back of the van and drove him to our home. Leaving undoubtedly a devastated family behind. I never will forget the young son looking only at his book. Sitting on a chair at the other end of the yard near their kittens. Poor boy.

This puppy dog, all of two years old, good looking and happy and strong, now lives with us. He is absolutely my friend's 'one man dog' and his son and I are a happy second and second.

I know some people think it wrong but our dog sleeps in the bedroom. On the floor, after saying a very passionate good-night he plops on the floor and exhales a long 'frooff'.

He has the utmost respect for his boss when he sleeps. He'll come and 'talk' to me for a bit but otherwise he'll wait for the moment of his boss' awakening at 5.30 or 6.00 am.

Angelo often looks me straight in the eyes. He looks with so much love and even sympathy. Is this possible?

He comes and tells me to get up every morning at the un-Godly hour of 7.45 am with my shorts in his mouth. Does he know something I don't know. Can he think. Where is his intelligence. Is it ONLY food? Instinct? I don't believe that for one minute.

I can divide my entire life in the periods I had a dog:

1. Putti, 1950, in Jakarta, who was put to sleep because he had rabies.(no photo)

2. Danny, 1960, a black and white cocker spaniel who I had to leave in Holland when returning to Australia. In, admittedly, a very comfortable place. But I never forgave those responsible for our separation. (photo on left)

3. Biki, 1980 in Portugal. A small dog I had found starving in the fields and who was a little retarded. He had the tiniest testicles and a gammy hind leg. After 8 years I had to put him to sleep because he had cancer. God, did I love him. (image in middle)

4. Egypto, 1990, a most beautiful black skinny dog I found IN my dust bin, so hungry and young. Loved him but had to give him away. Again, for personal reasons as I had to leave Portugal for Australia and Australia doesn't allow you to bring dogs. He was as black as my shoes and shiny.
I left him with a wonderful English couple in the Algarve, Portugal. (image on right)

I also had a few walk-ins I kept. Pompinha, Scotty and Shoo. But, it was Egypto I loved. He could look me in the eyes and make me feel quiet soft and gooey. And he too slept at the end of my bed.

Now we have Angelo, as I am writing this he knows I am here and would absolutely love me to stop and go to the living room and sit with his dad. And he does know the time!!

He knows when my friend's son gets home from work at around 5-ish.

He'll be there, the ultimate welcoming party.

Can he think? Does he think? Does he reason?

I absolutely say: YES.