How Fearsome Wolves Became Loyal Dogs — and Changed Human History Forever

Long before dogs were pets, they were partners, protectors, and family.

From Nordic lullabies to Grimm’s fairytales, the wolf has always haunted the edges of human history. Even today, wolves would represent a serious danger to nomads and herders, who ironically often employ dogs for protection. But this raises an evolutionary puzzle: How did the wolf, our ancient competition, evolve into the dog, our staunchest ally?

We may never know the exact moment the first nervous wolf approached a human campfire. However, we think this shift occurred during the Last Glacial Maximum, over 27,000 years ago. It was a time of brutal scarcity. Somewhere near Central Asia, likely around an ancient hearth, humans and wolves gradually stopped competing and started cooperating. Dogs became sentinels and hunting partners; humans provided food and warmth. We helped each other survive.

But along the way, our relationship got much deeper.

Walking the World Together

The first wolves that came close to humans just wanted to survive, and survive they did. Their descendants bore witness to the birth of agriculture and the rise of civilization. They became a thriving species in their own right. A big part of this is that, unlike other domesticated animals, dogs possess a unique adaptability to human needs.

In a comprehensive study on human-dog co-migration, researcher Angela Perri and her colleagues noted that for the last 10,000 years, humans and dogs have been inextricably bound. When humans expanded on the planet, dogs came with them. Genetic evidence based on mitochondrial signatures shows that everywhere they went, whether it was Europe or the Americas, they brought their dogs with them, bonded by mutual need and affection. Ancient humans cared for dogs, and there is evidence of emotional bonding.

In fact, neither migrated alone after the initial domestication. Without dogs, we may have never developed as we have.

“Advances in the isolation and sequencing of ancient DNA have begun to reveal the population histories of both people and dogs. [..] It is suspected, however, that this relationship has a much deeper antiquity, and that the tandem movement of people and dogs may have begun soon after the domestication of the dog from a gray wolf ancestor in the late Pleistocene.”

More Than Just Tools

This relationship emerged in the early days of our civilization and continues to the present day.

Over the millennia, dogs have proven to be as versatile as the humans they travel with. They have been soldiers, sacrifices, rescue workers, herders, rat-catchers, and alarms. Even the smallest breeds played a role; the bark of the Pekingese was once thought to scare away bad spirits.

But they have also been friends and even family. Recent archaeological finds suggest that our ancestors viewed these animals as more than just useful tools.

Consider the Bonn-Oberkassel dog, the oldest known example of a dog burial. This skeleton is remarkable not just for its age, but for the story it tells. The dog had suffered from distemper, a debilitating disease, yet it survived for some time. This implies extensive human care. Someone nursed this sick animal, not because it was useful (a sick dog cannot hunt or provide security) but because it was loved.

This pattern repeats across history. Darcy Morey of Radford University points out that dog burials appear globally, often with the dogs laid to rest alongside humans. Archaeologist Robert Losey suggests these burials imply that ancient people believed dogs had souls. In the Gobi desert, one dog was buried with honor, perhaps, under the hearth of a home surrounded by rabbit bones.  

Meanwhile, in ancient Egypt, a hunting dog was carefully mummified and placed in the tomb of Pharaoh Amenhotep II. The Egyptians believed in an afterlife, and by preserving the dog’s body, they ensured it would join its owner in the next world. By this time, dogs were fully distinct from Canis lupus, resembling modern breeds like the Saluki.

Other dogs, like the Lhasa Apso have also been integrated into human cosmology as well, with the legend that these dogs may be reincarnated monks. This interweaving of dogs into different human understandings of the afterlife suggests a very deep relationship with canines. Their souls were close to our souls.

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Co-Evolution

This evidence challenges the old philosophical view, championed by thinkers like Immanuel Kant, that animals are merely “tools” lacking rationality. The archaeological record tells a different story: one of mutual respect.

Biosocial anthropologists propose that we view this through the lens of “becoming.” Humans and dogs didn’t just evolve side-by-side; they co-evolved. It was a biosocial encounter where both species exercised agency. Perhaps the dogs decided to work with us just as much as we decided to work with them. Whatever the case was, it paved the way for a striking relationship.

In the end, this mutualism reveals something profound about life itself. Biology thrives on connection, not isolation. While pop science often obsesses over “survival of the fittest,” modern science highlights the importance of collaboration in many evolutionary scenarios. Our success as a species might be due to our ability to cooperate with another. We didn’t conquer the world alone. We did it with our best friends by our side.

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