If we examine Ulysses for the use of animals, we quickly realize that Joyce draws on a vast bestiary that includes basilisks, wrens, pigs, eagles, hyenas, panthers, pards, pelicans, roe deer, unicorns, dogs, bats, whales and snakes among others. All the animals included in Ulysses carry with them a symbolic meaning that is closely linked to the characters themselves and the circumstances in which they find themselves. Interestingly, not much has been written about Joyce's animal imagery. There are some interesting newspaper articles but they do not go beyond analyzing the images of pigs, cattle and horses in Ulysses. Rather than covering a wide range of animals and their meanings, this article will focus on analyzing the canine images throughout the book and attempt to unravel their significance in the story. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay The first noticeable observation when dealing with dog imagery is the recurring use of the word dog and its derivatives throughout the book. Take for example chapter 1 (Telemachus) in which Buck Mulligan, who was shaving, kindly calls Stephen "dog's body" (112) before asking him how his second-hand trousers fit. According to Gifford, this was a colloquial use of the term for a person who works odd jobs, usually in an institution. Joyce also plays with the inversion of the word God/dog in chapter 15 when in Bloom's hallucinations the voice of all the damned says "Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella!" (4708), Adonai utters "Dooooooooog!" (4710) and then the voice of all the blessed pronounces the phrase "Hallelujah, for the Lord God almighty reigns!" in the correct way. (4712) and Adonai calls "Goooooood". The word dog is also used in sentences like the one Rudolph uses when he scolds his son in chapter 15. He tells Bloom, "one night they bring you home drunk as a dog after spending your good money." (267). Bloom himself uses the phrase "a Christian's dog" when, in his dream, he orders Leopold M'Intosh to be shot (1563).There are so many examples like those mentioned above that no list can be exhaustive. However, the purpose of the present work is not to deal with the use of the word dog, but rather with "flesh and blood" dogs, their effects on the characters and their possible meaning and contribution to the story. To begin analyzing their meaning in Ulysses, I will first refer to what the Dictionary of symbolic and mythological animals says about the object of my study. According to this dictionary, there is evidence that the dog was domesticated in 7500 BC. It is not only humanity's oldest animal companion, but also has the widest range of uses in friendship, guarding, hunting and herding. Despite its use in symbolism and myth, it is ambivalent, revered and an intimate companion in some societies and despised and execrated in others. It can also be a solar or lunar animal. The sundogs chase away the Winter Boar. They are bearers of fire and masters of fire, destroying the enemies of light. Lunar dogs are associated with Artemia, goddess of the Moon and hunting. They are intermediaries between the moon deities. Apuleius says that "the dog...denotes the messenger who goes hither and thither between the higher and infernal powers." He is a guardian of the underworld, taking care of the dead and leading them to the afterlife. Plutarch says that dogs symbolize "the conservative, alert and philosophical principle of life." They embody qualities of loyalty, vigilance and nobility; psychic powers are also attributed to them, and the dog is often a cultural hero or mythical ancestor. In Sumerian-Semitic symbolism,the meaning of dog varies. It is evil and demonic. The Semitic antipathy towards the dog was carried over into Judaism where, except in Tobit, where Tobit has a dog as a companion, the dog was despised as unclean and as a scavenger and was ritually taboo (Matthew 7:6), associated to fornicators (Deuteronomy 23:18) and sorcerers, fornicators and idolaters (Revelation 22:15) In the Greco-Roman myth the dog is still ambivalent, the term "cynical" - that is, "dog-like" is derogatory and implies impudence and flattery. Homer says that the dog is shameless, but on the other hand it is associated with Aesculapius or Asclepius, the skilled doctor and healer, and the dog also heals by being reborn to life. His loyalty survives death. He also accompanies Hermes/Mercury as a messenger god, presiding over the wind and the Good Shepherd. The dog is important in Celtic myth and appears frequently with hunting gods. Dogs are associated with healing waters. They are also psychic animals linked to divination and in the Celtic tradition they are often metamorphosed people. In Christianity the dog represents faithfulness, vigilance and marital fidelity. He is also depicted with the Good Shepherd as guardian of the flock and in this aspect he can also symbolize a bishop or priest. In the Bestiaries, dogs symbolize sagacity, loyalty and the priests as guard dogs as they chase away the intruding Devil and protect the treasures. of God. Dogs appear frequently in heraldry, esp. in England (greyhounds, hounds and foxhounds) The black dog, a huge shaggy ghost dog with fiery eyes is a frequent theme in hauntings and is usually an omen of death; it may be harmless if left untouched, but touching it means death. With this background information in mind, we will observe that Joyce attributed the symbolism of more than one culture to Ulysses' dogs. In chapter 3 (Proteus), the first real dog appears. In fact, the first dog Stephen notices is a dead dog: “A bloated carcass of a dog lay lying on a bladderwrack.”(286) He surveys his surroundings, noting “the railing of a boat, sunk in the sand.” He draws a parallel between the sand and the tongue and realizes the importance hidden beneath: "These heavy sands are the tongue which the tide and wind have silted up here.(...). Hide the gold there. Prove it. You have some. Sands and Stones . Heavy of the past." Therefore, this first dead dog seems to be symbolic of the metaphorical death of the beauty of language which, although a precious commodity, is hidden in the past. As Gifford points out in his note 9.953, according to Robert Graves, in Celtic mythology the dog's epithet is "Keep the Secret". Therefore, this dead dog may have been the faithful guardian of language. Stephen soon sees another dog: “A dot, living dog, came into view running across the sand flat.”(294) This dog does not trigger meditation; on the contrary, Stefano is a little afraid of him: "Sir, will you attack me?" (295) He seems to receive God's response in an instant: "Respect his freedom. You will not be the master of others or their slave."(296) Such a response brings him no comfort. He controls the stick and sits tight until he runs back to the two figures who are walking along the shore. Stephen notes that "the two Marys hid him safely among the rushes" (298). He witnessed something he shouldn't have seen. Then, the dog, keeper of the women's secret, discovers that Stephen was watching. “The dog bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back.” (310) In this case, Stefano “simply stood pale, silent, barking. Terribilia meditans”.(311) It is at that moment that he begins to think about the man who drowned nine days earlier and imagines himself in that situation and reflects on such a terrible death. Gifford suggests that Stephen imagines himself as Actaeon who, since he interruptedDiana while she was bathing, transformed into a deer or roe deer. It is also a traditional symbol of the hidden secret of the self. In Celtic mythology his epithet is "Hide the Secret". Likewise, Stephen will not reveal the secret to the reader. Then, a woman and a man's dog called Tatters approach. He "wandered around a bank of thinning sand, trotting, sniffing all sides. Searching for something lost in a past life." (331) Then, "the man's shrill whistle struck his limp ears. He turned, leaped back, came closer, trotted on glittering shins."(333-334) This illustrates the dog's obedience and loyalty towards the human being. As Gifford states, Stephen then translates the dog on the beach into the language of heraldry: "On a field a tenney a deer, tripping, true, without clothes" (337) tenney: orange or fawn applied to a deer walking true and proper: in natural colors: without horns (unusual in heraldry because it would imply impotence). The dog then "stood with his front hooves stiff and his ears turned towards the sea. His raised muzzle barked at the sound of the waves..." (243) He, like a messenger, seems to be attentive to any message coming from the ocean. It is after this moment that Tatters discovers the dead dog. "The carcass lay in his path. He stopped, sniffed, walked around it, the brother, sniffing closer, walked around, quickly sniffing like a dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled lawn. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes to the ground, moves towards one great goal." (248-249) The dog seems very interested in his discovery; this dog is humanized and calls the dead dog "brother". He inspects him carefully and shows sympathy towards him. And he adds: "Ah, poor dog! Here lies the body of the poor dog." If we remember what Mulligan called Stephen in the first chapter, we can assume that Stephen has almost transmuted into Rags and is looking at the dead dog as if it were his own carcass. So much so that the quote reads "sniffing quickly like a dog." (248) This could be the burial of himself and the beginning of something new as he has his “eyes on the ground,” meaning he is surveying the land, examining his past, and “moving toward a great goal. " (249) Perhaps a new Stephen will emerge from his deep meditation. Joyce may be using the Celtic symbolism of metamorphosis here. Tatter's owners call him back and kick him for sniffing the old dog. Stephen was not discovered by the dog this time. Tatter's hind legs then scattered the sand: then his fore legs dabbled and dug. Something he buried there." (359-360) Stephen remembers the riddle of the fox burying his grandmother and thinks that Tatter is doing the same. Again, although untold, this image may reflect Stephen digging into his past and remembers his mother's funeral. In chapter 6 (Hades), we are first shown the image of Mr. Bloom's dog and on the way he thinks about the poor children, about the illnesses and upon death he says, "There's a dog shelter over there. Poor old Athos! Be good to Athos, Leopold, it's my last wish. Your will be done. We obey them in the grave. A dying doodle. He took it to heart, he was pining. Silent Brutus. Old people's dogs usually are." (125-128) Gifford explains that the dog home was run by the Dublin Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. The home advertised its interest in strays and proclaimed, " The sick are painlessly destroyed." He adds that Bloom's father's dog is apparently named after one of the three musketeers (Aramis, Athos and Porthos) from Alexandre Dumas's popular novel père (1802 -70) "Les trois musquetaires" (Paris, 1844). According to Gifford, we can draw a comparison to The Odyssey because when Odysseus first approaches his manor he cries at the sight of his old dog Argus, "abandoned" on a dung heap outside the gates. The dog struggles to say goodbye to his master, "but there is death and darkness instantly closed/ the eyes of Argus, who had seen his master again/ Ulysses, after twenty years." Joyce, in this case, shows not only Athos respected and honored by his master, but also the intimate bonds that human beings are capable of establishing with animals. After having dealt with the image of a dead dog, we move on to a more death when we read about Paltry's funeral which connects to canine imagery through the use of the word "dog biscuits." The narrator describes the funeral by saying, "It's all the same. Pallbearers, golden reins, golden reins, requiem mass, flying shots. Death pump. Beyond the rear carriage a peddler stood beside his cart of cakes and fruit. Simnel the cakes are stuck together: biscuits for the dead Who ate them Mourners coming out." (499-503) Gifford clarifies the meaning of dog biscuits, stating that they are called so not only because simnel cakes are hard but also after the Aeneid, when the sibyl who guides Aeneas to the underworld throws "a sleepy morsel with honey and drugged meal" to the three-headed dog Cerberus. This image of the dog is supported by the fact that Father Coffey is described as "Bully on the muzzle" (596) and "with his belly on like a poisoned puppy" (599) as if he were Cerberus. Joyce may be using Christian symbolism here. In chapter 12 (The Cyclops), the reader meets a large dog named Garryowen. This dog is more threatening to Bloom, and what's worse, Garryowen is loyal to Citizen, who, despite not being her owner, feeds her dog biscuits. He's an intimidating dog who inspires no pity in any of the pub's diners: "That damned bastard let out a grouse would send shivers down your spine. Be a corporal work of mercy if anyone took that damned dog's life. I I was told for a fact that he ate a good part of the trousers of a policeman from Santry who once came with a blue slip regarding a license (124-127) in fact, they want to get rid of him just the name, according to Gifford,. has many connotations as Garryowen is a suburb of Limerick famous for its squalor and the cruelty and brutality of its inhabitants. These characteristics can easily be applied to this dog, which despite doing nothing scares the men who are in the pub also the title of an Irish song about drinking and also of a famous Irish setter owned by JJ Giltrap of Dublin In turn, Old Giltrap's: Gerty McDowell's maternal grandfather the dog and the "relationship" between Bloom and Gerty, in. sense that this dog, with the psychic power attributed to its species, can know in advance Bloom's intentions in seeing Gerty. This could also provide an explanation for Bloom's fear of the dog and the dog's growling at Bloom. The Citizen, on the contrary, befriends this dog and is portrayed as its master: "A propped spear of sharp granite rested by him while at his feet rested a ferocious animal of the dog tribe, whose stertorial rattles announced that it was sunk into a restless sleep, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time with soothing blows of a powerful club crudely fashioned from Paleolithic stone." (200-205) When Bloom enters the pub, old Garryowen starts growling at Bloom again. The Citizen mocks Bloom and says, “Come in, come in, says the Citizen.He won't eat you." (399) Bloom comes in but the dog keeps sniffing him all the time. He has no merciful feelings towards the dog, he thinks the Citizen should "get a new dog Mangy, a ravenous brute who sniffs and sneezes everywhere and scrape off the scabs. And around he goes to Bob Doran who was standing halfway up Alf sucking for what he could get." (284 -289) Bloom even disapproves of Alf for "trying to stop him from falling off the bloody stool on top of the damned old dog and for talking all sorts of nonsense about training with kindness, thoroughbred dog and smart dog: give yourselves the damn peep." (291) Even when Garryowen is eating the biscuits we can hear Bloom complaining "Damn, he galloped him down like old men boots and his tongue hung out of him for another meter. He almost ate the can and all, you damn hungry bastard." (294-295) He is even more annoyed when "the old dog, seeing that the can was empty, starts wandering around Joe and me. I would train him gently, so I would, if he were my dog. Give him a wake up call from time to time where you don't blind him." (698-699) Bloom's negative side is seen when the dog is close to him. The Citizen teases him again: "-Afraid that he will bite you? The Citizen says, taunting him." (700) Bloom tries to justify himself by telling him that the dog "could take (his) leg for a lamppost." (702) There is such intimacy, such communion between the Citizen and Garryowen that when he calls the dog "he starts dragging him, beating him and talking to him in Irish and the old towser growls, implying that he is answering, like a duet in the opera. You never heard such a growl as they lunged at each other." (705-706) Bloom however thinks that the dog should be muzzled and describes him as "growling and grumbling and with his eye all bloodshot from the drought and hydrophobia falling from his jaws." (709-710) Bloom then imagines the dog "going from pub to pub, leaving it to his own honour, with old Giltrap's dog, and getting fed up with the taxpayers and the corporators. Entertainment for man and beast.(252-253)When the Citizen leaves the pub, he throws an empty can at Bloom and says:"- Did I kill him, he says, or what? And he shouts at the damned dog:- After him , Garry! After him, boy!" (1903-1905)That is the last time they see the Citizen and the dog. However, something surprising happens right after the evil characters leave: "When, behold, there came near to them all a great splendor, and they saw the chariot in which he was ascending to heaven. And they saw him in the chariot, clothed in glory of splendor... And they saw Him, even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascending to the glory of splendor." (1910-1917) One possible interpretation of this is that once evil, represented by Garryowen as the aforementioned black dog, disappears, Bloom is able to ascend to a higher level. All her aggression will be left behind and we will see a more tolerant Bloom when she meets the dogs in chapter 15. In Circe, David Hayman says that Joyce seems to have taken the entire book, mixed it together in a giant mixer and then rearranged its elements of a monstrous pantomime that includes every imaginable form of madness but which could be the most serious chapter of the book, a true rite of passage. Joyce does not make a clear distinction between minor and normal superficial hallucinations and even introduces unlikely elements into the characters' hallucinations. As a result, Stephen and Bloom's visions and identities are blurred, universalized, mythologized; the components of their days are mixed, so that their destinies can momentarily unite. Bloom is walking along the red light district and, in his hallucinations, they are present, 1982.