Children of Anubis

In Oklahoma City there is a memorial to those who died on April 19, 1995.  On the south side of the park are the remains of the entrance plaza to the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building destroyed by the explosion.  In the center of the park is a long rectangular pool, beside which is a lawn with 168 glass and bronze sculptured chairs representing the people who died there that day.

        

Visiting the city in April 2012, I took Chloe for a walk to the memorial as dawn was breaking one morning.  We had been told at the hotel that there was always a ranger on duty, though we did not see one. We saw no one once we entered the area.  We walked beside the pool and read some names, found the five chairs of those who had died outside the building.  We looked at the walls, the square arches that give the area the feel of a temple, an ancient temple, almost Egyptian, and I felt tears coming for people I had never known, felt the weight of the loss that was not mine, but was.  It was near the entrance arch that I felt something else, something cold. It was as if the earth had begun to shift from the spirits beneath, as if the chairs would speak.  I was suddenly afraid, yet ashamed of this senseless fear. 

It was then that Chloe began running, thrashing in desperate, frantic circles as some fear gripped her entire being.  A bee sting, the shadow of a bird overhead?  Perhaps, but I did not think of such possibilities until I began to tell others about what happened and needed to assure them of my sanity.  I knew then, though it makes no sense now—the irrational is always lost to any real description after the brief moment of its existence—that Chloe felt the same air I had, the same wisp of death, the same imminence of something not to be encountered above the earth, as if she had seen Anubis himself standing at the end of the pool, arms aloft, summoning a modern acolyte to her ancient duties. 

Dogs and Death

Almost all cultures—ancient, modern, eastern, western, native American—make associations of dogs with death.  Dogs were already coupled with the dead in Homer, where many references describe them feeding on the slain: 

“Nay of a surety many a one of the Trojans shall glut the dogs and birds with his fat and flesh, when he is fallen at the ships of the Achaeans  (ή τις Τρωων κορεει κυνας ήδ’ οιωνους δημω και σαρκεσσι, πεσων επι νηυσιν Αχαιων).” (Iliad, VIII.379-80, Murray translation, 1928)

Lilja (1976) cites strands of Homeric scholarship suggesting that this would have been expected from wild or half-wild pariah dogs supplementing the food they took from dunghills. Herodotus wrote that a Persian’s corpse is not buried until it has been mauled by birds or dogs (ὡς οὐ πρότερον θάπτεται ἀνδρὸς Πέρσεω ὁ νέκυς πρὶν ἂν ὑπ᾽ ὄρνιθος ἢ κυνὸς ἑλκυσθῇ). 

Pliny the Elder in the first century AD (VIII.lx.143) recorded instances where dogs preferred to die with their masters:

“When Jason of Lycia had been murdered his dog refused to take food and starved to death. But a dog the name of which Duris gives as Hyrcanus when king Lysimachus's pyre was set alight threw itself into the flame, and similarly at the funeral of King Hiero.” 

Stories of dogs protecting their masters’ graves can be found even in places where dogs are not favored animals.  In the 10^th century Arabic manuscript, The Book of The Superiority of Dogs over Many of Those Who Wear Clothes, Ibn al-Marzuban says:

“A certain story teller said: al-Rabi'b. Badr had a dog whom he had reared himself. When al-Rabi' died and was buried, the dog kept on throwing himself against the grave until he himself died. He also said: 'Amir b. 'Antarah had both hounds and guard dogs for his flocks and treated them well when they were with him. When 'Amir died the dogs remained by his grave until they died there, though his family and relatives had already left him.”

Societies often go through periods where dogs will be sacrificed and buried with their masters.  Rice notes that this was most prevalent in the Old Kingdom in Egypt, dogs often buried at the threshold of the tomb just as they guarded the master’s house in life.  Among native Americans, some tribes continued into the 20^th century to sacrifice a favored dog on the death of his master.  For a detailed discussion of the archeological record of dog burials in both the Old and New Worlds, see Morey (2010).

Dogs are said to sense ghosts.  Pythagoras would hold a dog to the mouth of a dead disciple to receive the departing spirit (Ash 1927, at 41).  In a rock art panel near Dinwoody, Wyoming, shown here, exaggerated hands stretch from a water ghost, with canine figures below (Francis and Loendorf 2004).  (Double click on images to enlarge.) In the Ghost Dance, native Americans killed dogs because the ghosts, fearing them, would not come to life if they were present. 

Dogs might even stand in for those who have died in certain practices.  In describing Russian celebrations of the dead, Georgi (1780) reported:

“On the Thursday in passion-week every father of a family places certain eatables in the yard of his house, with a lighted torch near them, to the memory of each person that has died out of his house.  The dogs, as proxies for the dead, regale themselves on this provision.”

Guides to the Underworld

One of the broadest associations of dogs with death is the belief that they lead the dead to the next world, just as in life they led hunters to game.  Michael Rice, in Swifter than the Arrow, may have fathomed the origins of the canine god that guarded and guided the dead:

“[T]he wild dog or jackal stalking through a graveyard on the edge of a Neolithic or late predynastic settlement could in another dimension of existence become the divine entity which led the justified dead to the Afterlife or, by extension, vigilantly guarded the place of communal burial.” 

Yet it may not have happened in Egypt first, since the edge of the settlement could have been wherever dogs were first domesticated, even perhaps at a time when domestication would be too strong a term—that is, when some competition for the same prey led the two pack animals, humans and wolves, to share habitats and recognize usefulness in the habits of the other, when some wolves got closer and the refuse of a camp became a reward for such tolerance, which began a long process of changing morphology and behavior that continues to this day.  

Taking people to the underworld is also found in the myths of many cultures.  Teit (1906) describes a Peruvian tradition that the souls cross a broad river, the Milky Way, to get to the spirit world, and that they do so on the backs of black dogs.  "In Mexico the dead were borne across the river of souls on the backs of two little red dogs."

Browne (1896) describes an Irish legend:

“On the road between Ballycroy and Bangor, Erris, a phantom dog sometimes appears, as does a white cow, whose appearance is looked on as a death-warning. Several of the lakes are thought to be inhabited by "water horses," which sometimes come on land and endeavour to coax unwary people to mount them, and then, having got them mounted, carry them off into the water. They are believed to be seen once in every seven years.”

It is with Anubis that this function reached its most beautiful statement.

Anubis

Two great canine archetypes have been created by the western imagination, Anubis and Cerberus.  Each has become eternal, if not as gods or beings of the underworld, at least in myth, poetry, painting, sculpture, recently in film, and always in the unconscious.  One is the majestic guide for the dead, the one who leads the procession down the dark path to the river, the other a guardian at the river, on one side or both, keeping the spirits from returning to trouble the living and preventing the living from disturbing the rest of the dead until they are ready to join them.  Both help us when our earthly presence is beyond help.  Neither is merely a dog, one being part man, the other usually having three heads, yet despite or perhaps because of this psychotic shift away from reality we cannot dream without them, cannot depict death without thinking of them and wanting them to be real, regardless of how advanced and abstract our theologies.     

Anubis was first represented as a jackal or a therianthrope, a beast-man with the head of a jackal.  Prehistoric rock art from North Africa shows dog-headed men when Libya was fertile enough for the rhinoceros to thrive, though the deistic significance of the therianthropes is uncertain (Coulson and Campbell 2001).  An image on a predynastic palette shows a jackal-headed dancer playing a pipe (Quibell and Green, 1902, Plate XXVIII).  Budge’s dictionary of hieroglyphics (1920) provides the entry to the right regarding Anubis (a later pronunciation), showing that a number of hieroglyphic configurations could be applied to the god from predynastic times into the Coptic period. 

Breasted (1912) describes Anubis as a mortuary god, a god that presided over funeral ceremonies, including mummification. The coffin of Henui from the Middle Kingdom describes the beginning of Anubis’s function on earth:

“Anubis … lord of the Nether World, to whom the westerners (the dead) give praise … him who was in the middle of the mid-heaven, fourth of the sons of Re, who was made to descend from the sky to embalm Osiris, because he was so very worth in the heart of Re.” 

Anubis, or a priest of the god, was often beside pharaoh, waiting to take him into the presence of the gods after death (Borchardt, 1907). Breasted notes that in the Old Kingdom it was not unusual for the deceased’s coffin to depict him with a jackal’s face, as if jackals were indeed spirits of the dead.

The book of the Dead, a name given to a number of funerary texts, gives additional functions to Anubis in the afterlife, including weighing the heart or soul of the deceased (“weigher of righteousness”).

The first plate in this blog shows a shroud from the Louvre with the deceased standing between Anubis and the mummified Osiris (Michalowski 1968), as if promising eternal life to the deceased as was achieved by Osiris with the help of Anubis.  That this depiction was standard is demonstrated by extraordinarily similar shroud from the Staatliche Museen in Berlin (Walker 2000, p. 96). The plate to the left shows the weighing of the soul from a 19^th dynasty papyrus of the Book of the Dead (Michalowski).

Anubis Comes out of Egypt

Plutarch, a Greek philosopher of the second century AD, sought to make the canine-headed god intelligible to an audience that increasingly required religion and myth to be consistent with philosophy.  Anubis guarded the gods as dogs do men (τους θεους Φρουρειν ωσπερ οι κυνες τους ανθρωπους). He was a son of Nephthys: 

“And when Nephthys was delivered of Anubis, Isis owned the child. For Nephthys is that part of the world which is below the earth, and invisible to us; and Isis that which is above the earth, and visible. But that which touches upon both these, and is called the horizon (or bounding circle) and is common to them both, is called Anubis, and resembles in shape the dog, because the dog makes use of his sight by night as well as by day (γαρ ό κυων χρηται τη οψει νυκτος τε και ημερας ομοιως). And therefore Anubis seems to me to have a power among the Egyptians much like to that of Hecate among the Grecians, he being as well terrestrial as Olympic. Some again think Anubis to be Saturn; wherefore, they say, because he produces all things out of himself and breeds them in himself. He had the name of Kyon (which signifies in Greek both a dog and a breeder).  Moreover, those that worship the dog have a certain secret meaning that must not be here revealed. And in the more remote and ancient times, the dog had the highest honor paid him in Egypt (παλαι μεν τας μεγιστας εν Αίγυπτω τιμας ό κυων εσχεν); but after that Cambyses had slain the Apis and thrown him away contemptuously like a carrion, no animal came near to him except the dog only (ουδεν προσηλθεν ουδ’ εγευσατο τον σωματος αλλ’ η μονος ό κυων).”

If the worship of Anubis “must not be here revealed,” the authorities of the mysteries were still to be respected, even feared, just as if in recent times the rites of a private club that includes some of the most important men of a community were so protected that political and legal repression could result from writing about them.  Imagine if the Masons were so powerful that they could prevent anyone from talking about what happened in their gatherings.

Later accretions to the Anubis myth include his helping Isis find the dismembered body of her brother Osiris, making Anubis something of an early cadaver dog.  As indicated in the quotation from Plutarch, Anubis was, from Hellenistic times onward, sometimes identified with other gods, particularly Hermes, and might receive devotion in a combined form (e.g., as Hermanubis or Thoth-Anubis). 

The Emperor Tiberius, learning that a woman had been seduced in the temple of Isis in Rome by a man claiming to be Anubis, destroyed the temple and banished the goddess Isis from Rome (Josephus, Antiquities, XVIII. 65-80)  Yet worship of the Egyptian deities soon returned to Rome. The Roman era Anubis to the left, wearing a cuirass, is on the side of a tomb at Kom El Shukafa that has been dated to the late first or early second century AD (Michalowski 1968).

In late antiquity, an apocryphal work preserved in Arabic, The Acts of Andrew and Bartholomew, with place names that would be in modern Tunisia and Libya, a fearsome dog-headed man becomes a follower of the two apostles and helps them convert a hostile city to Christianity.  Although named only “Dog’s Head,” the character in the dream-like drama, would have been understood in the pre-Moslem and pre-Christian mythology of the area as having divine elements:

“Dog's Head arose, and went to where the disciples were, rejoicing and glad, in the knowledge of the right faith. And his appearance was fearful exceedingly; his height was four cubits; his face was like the face of a large dog, and his eyes like lamps of burning fire, and his back teeth like the tusks of the wild boar; and his [front] teeth like the teeth of a lion; and the nails of his feet like a curved scythe; and the nails of his hands like the claws of a lion, and his whole appearance frightful, terrifying.” (Lewis 1904)

Even Christian emperors issued coinage depicting Isis and Anubis. The coin shown here dates from 364 to 378, during the reign of Valens, showing Anubis in military dress, holding a sistrum and caduceus.  The text reads VOTA PUBLICA (public vows).

Seznec (1953) describes depictions of Anubis in the Renaissance, including on a gem worn by Catherine de’ Medici. The depiction, created by a court magician, may have had mystical significance for her.

Guardians on the Path of the Soul

Encountering guard dogs on the path to the final resting place of souls is also found in the myths of many cultures.

William Wood (1634) wrote that the Indians of New England—

“hold the immortality of the never-dying soule, that it shall passe to the South-west Elysium … a kinde of Paradise, wherein they shall everlastingly abide, solacing themselves in odoriferous Gardens, fruitfull Corne-fields, greene Medows, bathing their tawny hides in the coole streames of pleasant Rivers, and shelter themselves from heate and cold in the sumptuous Pallaces framed by the skill of Natures curious contrivement … at the portal whereof they say, lies a great Dogge, whose churlish snarlings deny a Pax intrantibus, to unworthy intruders: Wherefore it is their custome, to bury with them their Bows and Arrows, and good store of their Wampompeage and Mowhackies; the one to affright the affronting Cerberus, the other to purchase more immense prerogatives in their Paradise. 

Stansbury Hagar (1906) says the following concerning the Cherokee:

“The tradition is that souls, after the death of the body, cross a raging torrent on a narrow pole, from which those of the evil-doers and cowardly fall off, and are swept to oblivion in the waters below.  Those who succeed in crossing go eastward, and then westward to the Land of Twilight.  They follow a trail until they reach a pass beyond which the trail forks.  There they encounter a dog (gili’), who must be fed, otherwise he will not permit the soul to pass.  Having left him behind, the soul continues to follow the trail until it encounters another dog, who must also be propitiated with food.  The unfortunate soul who is insufficiently provided with food for both dogs, having passed one, will be stopped by the other.  The first will not permit him to return, and he will be held a prisoner forever between the two animals.” 

Cerberus

The great canine archetype of Greek art and poetry was Cerberus (Κερβερος), the guardian of the boundary between life and death, or more precisely between the living and the dead, since to imagine Cerberus requires the dead move as they had in life.  Hesiod in the 8^th century BC described "the dog" as having 50 heads, though later writers usually settled on three, and in vase paintings often just two.  Lilja summarizes early poetic references:

“The original concept of Cerberus … must have been that of a watchdog: a dog was imagined as guarding the palace of Hades in the same way as dogs used to guard houses and palaces in this life.  It was, I think, only gradually that the devouring aspect of death began to be embodied in Cerberus so that, finally, the watchdog of Hades was identified with death. Not until the final identification with death could Cerberus be imagined as welcoming visitors, the voracity of death being expressed in that the dog devoured those who tried to escape.”

The twelfth labor of Herakles involved bringing Cerberus up from the underworld.  Apollodorus  of Athens in the second century AD, said “Cerberus had three heads of dogs, the tail of a dragon, and on his back the heads of all sorts of snakes.”  Herakles, going to the land of the dead, wishes to be initiated into the mysteries at Eleusis first, and this takes some time because of his foreign status and his slaughter of the centaurs. After a few other misadventures, Herakles gets to the underworld.  Pluto allows Herakles to take Cerberus from Hades providing he masters the dog without his weapons.  Herakles flings his arms around the dog and holds on despite the bites of the dragon in its tail.  Ascending from Hades at Troezen on the eastern Peloponessus, Herakles leads the beast to Eurystheus, who had commanded the labor, then carries him back to Hades. 

Unlike Anubis, Cerberus remains a dog, though a fearsome and mysterious one with multiple heads and sometimes appendages of other beasts.  Something of a guard dog, Herakles leads him like a war dog, and his functions can be understood as belonging to the more vicious that dogs perform. 

Cerberus is depicted with Herakles in the first vase painting above (Louvre F204), and with Herakles and Hecate in the second (Munich 3297). The Louvre depiction makes the now two-headed dog rather meek, while the Munich vase shows the head operating rather independently. In both vases, Cerberus is a Molossian.   

Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious

Again, in analyzing canine archetypes, I must defer to Michael Rice:

“The reason for Anubis’ long-lasting appeal and support, which transcends boundaries of time and nation, is clear: he is one of the most fully realised, multi-faceted archetypes whose recognition, at the very beginning of the Egyptian state five thousand years ago, echoed so exactly the part that the dog had played in the development of the larger human society in times still more remote.  Anubis is indeed one of the greatest of the archetypes: he is the Night Lord, Grave-Watcher, Soul-Guide, a being who bridges the worlds of the seen and unseen.  In this he is one of the most fully realised of all the animal divinities, brought out of the collective unconscious of the early inhabitants of the Nile Valley, who give meaning and explanation to the entire community of animal-human conflations.  The theriomorphic archetypes of Egypt are the first to be recognised and recorded by any complex society; in this lies their power, for the archetype only requires recognition to assume an independent existence.”

Anubis is the stronger archetype.  As David Gordon White (1991) proved, dog-headed men and gods can be found across civilizations in every part of the globe, often associated with death, whereas Cerberus exists only in those belief systems that have roots in Attic Greek thought and art.  Cerberus is not as generic as Anubis because Cerberus is limited to those peoples who accept an architecture for the afterlife, one requiring a descent and the crossing of a burning river to arrive at an unpleasant place now called hell. Cerberus remains a multi-headed guard dog, while Anubis is as broad and deep as death itself. The guide dog is more a companion, more human, certainly more divine, than the guard dog.

As dogs of death, Anubis and Cerberus may have sometimes been seen as one.  Fowler translates a line spoken by Socrates in Lucian's Philosophies for Sale (Vitarum auctio) as follows: "Why, the dog is a God, I suppose? Is not Anubis made much of in Egypt? Is there not a Dog-star in Heaven and a Cerberus in the lower world (Τί συ λεγεις; ου δοκει σοι ό κυων ειναι θεος; ουχ ορας τον Ανουβιν οσος; και τον εν ουρανω Σειριον και τον παρα τοις κατω Κερβερον)?" Witt (1971, Chapter 15, n. 11) suggested this may mean that Lucian conflated Anubis and Cerberus in some syncretistic manner, though it may only indicate that divinities may be canine.  

Conclusion

Could it be that canines entered the human collective unconscious before they filled any function for our survival?  After all the jackal was never tamed. Did it happen among a group of hunter gatherers in China or Mongolia, in the Middle East, Europe, Africa, or several of these at once? (“Once” is a relative term here since thousands of years could separate events without now being detectible to us looking backward.  It may have even happened in some early societies and been lost where partial domestications began but did not continue.)  Napierala and Uerpmann argue that it "is quite improbable that—on the human side—conscious processes aiming at domestication were involved when wolves were first incorporated into human groups."  What was needed for us to recognize the change that was occurring in our relationship with this particular animal?  Arguably the animal had to be given motives, a comparable culture, a comparable mind, a history that related to ours—something more than mere function.

I am suggesting that our recognition of a species that would share space with us may have begun in part in funerary ritual, stories told around fires about the animals scavenging nearby, in human dream life. Was the fixing of the archetype in fact one of the first steps towards domestication, rather than a later result of it? Is Anubis so strong because the archetype, the dream figure, has never been separated from benefits that dogs provide for us at home and work?

A history of the society of dogs and men cannot be complete without considering the irrational in our relationship.  We must account for what Rudolf Otto called the numinous. (I avoid the term “spiritual” as it connotes belief systems in which I do not participate—worse, while doing so differently for different people—and is in any case unnecessary for my argument.)  Other animals than dogs appear in dreams and visions, and in dreams and visions of death, but those animals tend more often to be figures on the landscape, not nearly so interactive with us as are our dogs.  In dreams and visions dogs look at us, do things for us, understand us, expect and demand things from us, and obey or ignore our commands, just as they do in waking life.  Their thoughts and expressions may even come with words in dreams, which does not happen in life but, by giving them speech, their nature has been brought closer to ours in the irrational than in the rational. 

Our relationship is that of a combined society in which dogs are not completely separated from us by being part of the “other.” They have become part of us as we part of them, as Anubis combines the canine with the human.   

Was Chloe afraid for herself that morning in Oklahoma City, or for both of us?  A question from an irrational moment cannot receive a rational answer. Yet there will come a day when I shall know. 

Sources:

1. Apollodorus. The Library (1921, Frazer, J.G., translator). Loeb Classical Library, vols. 121-2. Harvard University Press, Cambridge. 
2.  Ash, E.C. (1927). Dogs: Their History and Development. Ernst Benn Ltd., London.
3. Bloomfield, M. (1905). Cerberus, The Dog of Hades: The History of an Idea.  Open Court Publishing, Chicago (arguing for a connection between Cerberus and a Vedic figure: "India is the home of the Cerberus myth in its clearest and fullest development.").
4. Borchardt, L. (1907). Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Ne-User-Re.  Leipzig.
5. Breasted, J.H. (1912). Development of Religion and Thought in Ancient Egypt. Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York.
6. Browne, C.R. (1896). The Ethnography of Ballycroy, County Mayo.  Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, series 3, vol. 4. Dublin.
7. Budge, E.A.W. (1895). The Book of the Dead: The Papyrus of Ani. The Medici Society, Ltd. New York.
8. Budge, E.A.W. (1920). Egyptian Hieroglyphic Dictionary, vol. 1. John Murray, London.
9. Coulson (2001). African Rock Art: Paintings and Engravings on Stone.  Harry N. Abrams, New York.
10. Duggan, B.P. (2008). Saluki: The Desert Hound and the English Travelers Who Brought It to the West.  McFarland & Co., London (describing a Victorian journey on the Nile with the occasional sight at night of the torchlight from the boat catching the green eyes of a jackel on the banks, a sight that that would have been little different in antiquity looking over a burial complex).  
11. Flores, D.V. (2003). Funerary Sacrifice of Animals in the Egyptian Predynastic Period, BAR International Series 1153. Archaeopress, Oxford.  
12. Francis, J.E., and Loendorf, L.L. (2004). Ancient Visions: Petroglyphs and Pictographs of the Wind River and Bighorn Country, Wyoming and Montana. University of Utah Press. Salt Lake City.
13. Georgi, J.G. (1780). Russia: or, A Compleat Historical Account of All the Nations Which Compose That Empire, vol. I. London.
14. Hagar, S. (1906). Cherokee Star-Lore. In Anthropological Papers Written in Honor of Franz Boas (Laufer, B., ed.).  G.E. Stechert & Co., New York.
15. Hauck, E. (1941). Die Hunderassen im Alten Agypten. Verlag Dr. Paul Schops, Leipzig. 
16. Herodotus (2007 translation). The Landmark Herodotus: The Histories (ed. Strassler, R.K.). Pantheon Books, New York.
17. Homer. The Iliad vol. 1(1928, Marray, A.T., translator and editor). William Heinemann Ltd., New York.
18. Jaeger, W. (1945). Paidea: The Ideals of Greek Culture, vol. 1 (translation, 2nd English edition). Oxford University Press, New York (noting in Chapter 2 that Homer can no longer be considered as a single author, and quoting Wilamowitz, U. in Die Heimkehr des Odysseus (Berlin, 1927): "Anyone who makes no distinctions within the Homeric poems in matters of language or religion or morality ... has forfeited all claim to serious consideration.").
19. Jenkins, F. (1957).  The Role of the Dog in Romano-Gaulish Religion. Latomus, 16 (arguing "it is difficult to deny that the association of the dog with the infernal regions was common in mythology throughout the ancient world.").
20. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, vol. 9 (Feldman, L.H., translator). Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
21. Lewis, A.S. (1904). The Mythological Acts of the Apostles.  Horae Semiticae No. IV. C.J. Clay and Sons, London.
22. Lilja, N. (1976). Dogs in Ancient Greek Poetry.  Commentationes Humanarum Litterarum. Societas Scientiarum Fennica. Helsinki.
23. Marzuban, I. (1978). The Superiority of Dogs Over Many of Those Who Wear Clothes (Smith, G.R., and Haleem, M.A.A., translators). Aris & Phillips, Westminster, England.
24. Michalowski, J.M.K. (1968).  L'Art de l'ancienne Egypte. L. Mazenod, Paris.
25. Morey, D.F. (2010). Dogs: Domestication and the Development of a Social Bond. Cambridge University Press, New York. 
26. Napierala, H., and Uerpmann, H.-P. (2012). A 'New' Palaeolithic Dog from Central Europe. International Journal of Oseoarchaeology, 22, 127-137. 
27. Otto, R. (1961). The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the Non-factor in the Idea of the Divine and Its Relation to the Rational.  Oxford University Press, London.
28. Quibell, J.E., and Green, F.W. (1902). Hierakonpolis, Part II. Bernard Quaritch, London.
29. Rice, M. (2006). Swifter than the Arow: The Golden Hunting Hounds of Ancient Egypt. I.B. Tauris & Co., London.
30. Seznec, J. (1953). The Survival of the Pagan Gods.  Princeton University Press.
31. Steindorff, G. (1896). Grabfunde des Mittleren Reichs des Königlichen Museen zu Berlin, vol II. Berlin.
32. Walker, S. (2000). Ancient Faces: Mummy Portraits from Roman Egypt. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. (In addition to the reference in the text, see the plates on pages 130 and 134.)
33. White, D.G. (1991). Myths of the Dog-Man.  University of Chicago Press, Chicago. 
34. White, R. (2003). Systems of Personal Ornamentation in the Early Upper Paleolithic: Methodological Challenges and New Observations. In Mellars, P., Boyle, K., Bar-Yosef, O., Stringer, C. (Eds.), Rethinking the Human Revolution: New Behavioural and Biological Perspectives on the Origin and Dispersal of Modern Humans. McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, Cambridge, pp. 287e302. (Noting concerning teeth used as ornamentation as found at certain Aurignacian sites: "The animals whose teeth are worn [wolves, foxes] are not those whose meat is consumed. Phrased another way, the consumed fauna and the displayed fauna are almost mutually exclusive.  This implies that the animals behind the parts transformed into ornaments are construed in terms that are largely of the collective symbolic imagination."  This probably relates to some notion that wearing a portion of an animal gave a human hunter the powers of an animal hunter, but it could be stretched to cover some of the concepts I am proposing here.)
35. Witt, R.E. (1971). Isis in the Ancient World. Cornell University Press. Ithaca, New York. (See particularly Chapter XV.)
36. Wood, W. (1634). New-England’s Prospect.  John Wilson and Son, Boston  (1865, reprinting an edition from 1764). 

Thanks to Richard Hawkins and Brian Duggan for comments and corrections.