Not so dumb animals: putting my dog through the IQ test

New research suggests dog and human intelligence could be measured in much the same way. So would a game of ‘hunt the peanut butter’ prove that Wilf is the genius I’ve always suspected?

ike anyone who has ever had to fight Fido for space by the fire, I’ve never had much time for the idea that dogs are just dumb animals. Sure, they can play the innocent after snaffling that stilton, but in reality they operate with a low and lethal cunning that’s all too familiar.

I wasn’t surprised, therefore, to read of a study that suggests canine intelligence works in much the same way as our own. Recent research by the London School of Economics in conjunction with the University of Edinburgh has discovered that dogs that do well in one task, such as finding food hidden behind obstacles,also tend to do well in others – just like us.

This, the researchers hope, will make them valuable tools in investigating the link between intelligence and health, an area complicated by the human appetite for self-destruction. Dogsrarely spark up a cig to dull the relentless pain of existence, which makes them more reliable subjects – although, given my terrier’s taste for rotten seagulls, I suspect it’s more a matter of picking your poison.

Like any obsessive dog owner, I’ve performed the odd canine IQ test, all of which proved Wilf to be a genius in furry form … as long as there was food involved. He can sniff out a sprat from 30 paces, and his nose will lead him unerringly to the cup under which the ham is hidden, however many decoys are set in front of him. (At the age of three, however, he still has not learnt to fetch.)

But Dr Rosalind Arden, who co-authored the study with Dr Mark Adams, politely dismisses my findings – and when I see the series of hoops her 68 working border collies had to jump through, I understand why. This lot makes the Crufts agility class look like a walk in the park, with tunnels, fences and endless spinning of plates.

Failing to find any wooden-framed, wire-mesh barriers of the correct dimensions in the shed, I have to satisfy myself for now with the easier tests: the social point task, in which Wilf must choose between two bowls based on my hand signals, and the quantity task, which depends on him identifying which of two identical plates contains more food. The first shows him to be the prodigy I’d always assumed – in 10 repetitions, he selects the sausage every time, without hesitation.
The second task proved more problematic, revealing hitherto unimagined levels of gastronomic discernment on the dog’s part. He wanders over to the plate with the larger dollop of mildly rancid peanut butter and licks it once. Then, with a heavy sigh, he returns to his favoured spot on the sofa. A gentle snore indicates no further testing will be possible.
Bad news for medical science, but good news for me; as an animal of far lower intelligence, I can eat the stuff myself, stupidly happy in the knowledge I’ve raised a canine Einstein.