A blank space appeared in the text, and then the letter continued:

Mr. Sawtelle,

After finishing the last passage, I set this letter aside for some days, too upset to finish it. I felt I should either write it again with a more civil tone or simply not post it. Though I am no less adamant today, in the interim I’ve found I will be traveling to Minneapolis. This is unusual and unexpected, but if I’ve read my map correctly, I may have time for a brief side trip on my return, the purpose of which will be to convince you, in person, of your folly. In addition, as a scientist, I feel some obligation to review your stock, on the remote chance it might be of use to us. I should be traveling about six weeks hence, and done with my business in Minneapolis around June 15.

Signed,

AB

The letter was a curiosity. Edgar had read Working Dogs years before and knew that Brooks was one of the original breeders on the Fortunate Fields project. The makeshift library atop the file cabinets held several books on that subject, as well as articles about Buddy, the most famous of those dogs. Fortunate Fields had originated through the philanthropy of a woman named Dorothy Eustice, whose idea was to breed dogs to help humanity-in particular, as guide dogs for the blind. An institution called The Seeing Eye had been established to carry that work forward.

Fortunate Fields was interesting because guide dogs for the blind needed to be of a special temperament: unflappable, easy to train, and happiest at work. This ruled out dogs that were, for example, unnerved by new surroundings or too laconic to be relied upon for steady work. The Sawtelle family legend-myth, Edgar had always supposed-was that his grandfather had contacted the Fortunate Fields breeders in the early days and that one of them had taken pains to advise him on breeding and training. The story went that the Sawtelle dogs even carried the blood of Buddy.

Edgar fingered through the letters. There were several more from Brooks. The next was dated two months later.

July 2nd, 1934

Morristown, New Jersey

Mr. Sawtelle,

I apologize for rushing off. Your hospitality was more than I should have hoped for-indeed, more than I should have indulged in. After seeing your dogs, I understand your enthusiasm. However, I must repeat that there is no possibility that we could use them as Fortunate Fields stock.

Having also seen your records, I understand that the difference between our approaches is one of philosophy, not technique. You are as selective, in your way, as we at Fortunate Fields. (If I am repeating what I already said while visiting, I apologize-some of it is unclear to me now.) I do not think you have much chance of success, though your definition of success is less precise than ours. That may be more sensible, as you’ve argued, but it is not scientific, and in science, progress is necessarily slow.

I also cannot let you ship a bitch here to be bred. Although I am on your side in this matter, my colleagues are unconvinced.

However, I tell you the following in confidence: a gentleman named Conrad McCalister has been living with a dog of ours, Amos, just outside of Minneapolis, for two years now. Amos is a sibling of Buddy’s, and every bit the dog she is. We consider Amos to be among our greatest successes, though Buddy gets all the publicity. With my endorsement, I believe Conrad would permit Amos to sire a litter with a bitch of your choosing. I could make sure you had the advantage of our full documentation on Amos, since you would be in a position to appreciate what it meant.

Finally, I would like to mention a personal matter, with the desire that it need never be discussed again. Our night at “The Hollow” (as I believe the establishment was called) culminated in a rather unfortunate-indeed, foolish-incident. The young lady you introduced me to has mailed several letters to my home address since then, indicating that she would rather not put the event into the proper perspective. Rest assured, I have determined that this is only a matter of misplaced affection and not something medical in nature. I believe you know her, if my memory of that night was not completely destroyed by whatever was in those shot glasses. (I shall never again hear the name “Leinenkugel” without some degree of nausea. I am grateful the beverage isn’t sold here.)

In any case, I’ve suggested to her that the best thing might be a subtle remembrance in the form of a puppy related to the famous “Buddy,” which she would acquire from you. I’ve explained to her that this would be Buddy’s paternal nephew or niece, but as you well know, those not involved in animal husbandry have little interest in exact filial relationships, and no appreciation of their significance. In any event, if you would agree to make that possible, I would be happy to send Conrad a letter endorsing the mating. And you would have my deepest gratitude.

I believe you have undertaken a particularly interesting project, Mr. Sawtelle. If my prior letter seemed harsh, please accept my apologies.

Most anxiously awaiting your reply,

Alvin Brooks

Postscript: As for naming, I see no reason to call them anything other than “Sawtelle Dogs,” or perhaps just “Sawtelles.” If they amount to anything besides well-trained mongrels, they will, after all, have been the product of your vision.

And then a third letter, postmarked almost five years later:

November 18, 1938

Morristown, New Jersey

John,

I do not share this desire to wax philosophical about the nature of men and dogs. It leads to discussions that are unscientific at best and a waste of intellectual force at worst. You are talking religion, not science.

One part of your letter intrigued me, however-your discussion of Canis posterus-the “next dogs,” as you call them. I am familiar with the theory of the dire wolf, that gigantic ancestor of wolves that trod the prehistoric earth. I, like you, believe that our modern dogs are descended from the wolves of antiquity, perhaps one hundred thousand years past. As you say, that gives us three points-more than enough to plot a trajectory-if they belong to the same evolutionary branch of the species. That is, the dire wolf may have been something entirely separate from Canis lupus, an alternative form that natural selection toyed with and discarded.

I must make something clear before I go on. You speak of natural selection and evolution as if they were one and the same, but natural selection-the undirected survival of an individual or individuals-is merely one mechanism of evolution, and not the only one. Mutation, for example, is another mechanism-one way in which novelty gets introduced. As you well know, conscientious animal husbandry serves the same function in domesticated animals that natural selection serves in the wild.

Yet, in geometry, given two points, a line may be drawn. Perhaps the same is true in biology. Suppose those two points we take are the wolf and the domestic dog. That does imply something else farther along the same line-the “next dog,” as you like to phrase it.

But this is where your thinking goes awry, for along any such biological line, the farther points are not more advanced than the earlier points, they are only better adapted. That is, evolution and sophistication are not necessarily one and the same. And so your endless speculation on the nature of Canis posterus, and hence the next small change that will make them better workers (which is my dream) or companions (yours) is futile, since the forces of selection would either have to know in advance what small change is desired, or be able to recognize it when it happens by pure accident. The latter is not a realistic possibility-mutations occur at an extremely low rate in any population, and of course the chance of a specific mutation that would better adapt a dog for companionship…well, it is possible, but statistically unlikely.