Do electric dogs dream of high voltage treats? Henry Joseph Piraux and his late 1920s cybernetic canid
Greetings, my reading friend, and welcome to yet another December 2024 issue of our blog / bulletin / thingee. Given the time of year, yours truly decided yet again to break away from our anniversarial tradition in order to bring you this topic, a topic which fell by the wayside when I miscalculated the length of not one, but two October 2024 articles (3 parts instead of 2 and 4 parts instead of 3). Oops…
Are we ready?
And yes, my reading friend, I once again intend to be brief today. Very brief even.
Since every story requires a beginning, yours truly offers you the month of July 1929. It was indeed during that month that the felt-covered electric dog made of wood and metal at the heart of this article was mentioned for the first time in the press. Said dog, which, it was believed, would bring in the whole of Paris, was to be on display at the Salon international de la T.S.F. to be held in Paris, France, in September and October 1929.
And yes, my reading friend, said electric dog may very well have been the one of the first electronic animals, an ancestor of the animal robots of the 21st century, and…
Err, yes, my reading friend, the abbreviation T.S.F. stands for télégraphie sans fil, in English wireless telegraphy, in other words radio.
A brief digression if I may. The electric dog at the heart of this article was not the first critter bearing that name. Nay. It was not.

The American radio engineer / inventor Benjamin Franklin Miessner and the electric dog he put together in 1912, I think, as per the instructions of his employer, the well-off and noted American inventor John Hays Hammond, Junior. Anon., “‘Electrical Dog’ Follows Beam of Light.” The Electrical Experimenter, June 1915, 43.
In 1912, I think, the American radio engineer / inventor Benjamin Franklin Miessner completed what appeared to be the very first electric dog, and this with the help of a (German?) American assistant mechanic / inventor by the name of Joseph Broich, possibly born Josef Broich. They did so at the request of their employer, the well-off and noted American inventor John Hays Hammond, Junior, who had developed the basic operating design of said doggy.
That 3-wheeled robot, named Seleno no later than early 1915, did not look much like a dog, however. In fact, its only resemblance to a Canis familiaris was that it faithfully followed anyone who shone the light from a small projector into one of its “eyes,” which were actually two selenium cells / photo-conductive cells.
If said light beam hit the electric dog’s right eye, it turned to the right, and vice versa. If it hit both eyes equally, the electric dog moved forward.
Speaking (typing?) of selenium, did you know that, in 1880, the teacher / inventor Alexander Graham “Aleck” Bell and a close collaborator, the American inventor / instrument maker Charles Sumner Tainter, completed the prototype of an optical device, the photophone, which transformed a sound message, such as a human voice, into light signals transmitted using mirrors, and this through a selenium cell.
Bell’s prototype was able to transmit a message over a distance of 215 or so metres (700 or so feet) in June 1880.
Vastly improved versions of the photophone were apparently used during and after the First World War, but I digress. Sorry.
Bell was of course mentioned several times in our stupendous blog / bulletin / thingee, and this since October 2018.
And no, Bell was never a Canadian. He was a Scot, that is a British subject, who became a naturalised American citizen in 1882. But back to our topic.
The electric dog on display at the aforementioned Salon international de la T.S.F. was the brainchild of Henry Joseph Piraux, a young (27 years old in September 1929) French electrical engineer employed by a radio and lighting equipment manufacturer, the Société anonyme Philips, the French subsidiary of the large Dutch conglomerate Naamloze Vennootschap Philips’ Gloeilampenfabrieken.
Before I forget, Piraux was born in March 1902 in Sucy-en-Brie, France, not far from Paris.
And as you might have seen in the photograph at the beginning of this article, the doggy in question looked pretty much like a dog, a bit like the robot K9.
Said K9 was a companion of the Doctor, the main character of the British science fiction television series Doctor Who, a well-armed companion with encyclopedic knowledge which made its appearance in October 1977, but I digress. A very bad thing given my avowed desire to be brief.
Similar in appearance to a primitive toy, or to an animal imagined by a cubist painter, the Piraux electric dog was in fact a small marvel of telemechanic which was plugged into a very ordinary 220-volt electrical outlet, I think, by means of a cable disguised as a leash.
Presented at the Philips kiosk during the Salon international de la T.S.F., the electric dog faithfully followed anyone who projected the light of a small projector into one of its two “eyes,” two photoelectric cells / photo-emissive cells in fact. If said light beam hit the electric dog’s right eye, it turned to the right, and vice versa. If it hit both eyes equally, the electric dog moved forward.
The Piraux electric dog had 2 drive wheels placed near its front legs. A third wheel, this one not driven, was located at the back.
Did that electronic doggy have a reverse gear, you ask, my mischievous reading friend? Sigh… Let us be serious, please.
Could it think, you ask? A good question. Piraux’s electric dog had no device which allowed it to think.
This being said (typed?), would you believe that, in addition to being able to move, said doggy stopped, quivered and barked, its jaw moving up and down, I think, if the aforementioned projector was placed within 50 or so centimetres (20 or so inches) of its eyes, or if the doggy approached it within 50 or so centimetres (20 or so inches)? I kid you not.
The quivering in question seemed to have been caused by a brief restart of the two electric motors which powered the drive wheels. Yours truly must admit that I do not know whether that quivering was intentional or accidental. In any event, it certainly added to the impression of verisimilitude desired by Piraux.
Incidentally, Piraux developed his electric dog to illustrate in an amusing way the functioning of the fascinating technology that is the photoelectric cell, a device capable of producing a weak electric current if struck by light. Mind you, Piraux’s electric dog also illustrated the extent to which photoelectric cells were a versatile technology with a bright future. No pun intended.
And no, I do not know whether the barking of the electric dog, produced by a kind of horn, reproduced the sound produced by a golden retriever, the noisiest breed of dog in the world, it is said, or a chihuahua. Let us be serious, please. This being said (typed?), yours truly must admit that the sound produced by the electric dog resembled the barking of a large, furious guard dog.
The electric dog presented at the Salon International de la T.S.F. might, I repeat might, have been equipped with a battery when it was completed a few weeks or months before. The weight and limited power of said battery did not, however, allow the doggy to move quickly. In fact, the very first version of the electric dog might, I repeat, again, might, have been without wheels.
In any event, and as you can imagine, the sensational and amusing novelty, the highlight of the Salon international de la T.S.F. in fact, that was the electric dog in its final version, was a huge success during presentations made at various places in France from the fall of 1929 onwards.
Our cubist doggy was known under the name Philidog at the latest in July 1930, by the way.
Piraux might have been named it so to honour his employer, Philips, as well as a French composer / musician and formidable chess player of the 18th century, François-André Danican Philidor, the author of L’Analyze des Échecs, one of the first chess treatises in French and a classic of the genre, published in 1749, in French, in London, England. Philidor was then only 22. Wah!
Yes, yes, Analyze with a Z. After all, the S of the French word analyse, in English analysis, is pronounced as a Z.
A brief digression, if I may. Would the spelling of many words in the French language not make a sinner out of a saint, my reading friend with a reputation for sanctity? Analyse, in English analysis, again, is spelled with a Y but the first name Lise has an I. Why? The P of sculpteur and the Z of nez, in English sculptor and nose, are silent letters. Why? The words watt and wagon, in English watt and wagon, are pronounced watt and vagon, with a very short N. Why? The words porc, pore and port, in English pork, pore and port, are all pronounced the same way. Why? The feminine of héros is héroïne, in English hero and heroine. Why? And we all know that this word héroïne can mean very different things, as in heroine and heroin. Why are we stuck with such a frigging mess? Why?? Why??? Sorry, sorry. Sorry.
Mi voĉdonas por ke la tuta planedo ŝanĝu al Esperanto. Kiu estas kun mi?
Speaking (typing?) of an animal imagined by a cubist painter, did you know that the renowned French surrealist poet / writer / artist André Robert Breton made a photomontage around 1931 which included a photograph of our electric dog? But I digress.
Would you believe that Images, a well-illustrated French-language weekly published in al-Qāhirah / Cairo, Egypt, mentioned in one of its July 1930 issues that Piraux’s robot was, words translated here, “a mechanical guard dog which will be able to chase a burglar, bark, rush at him, bite him and even kill him, thanks to an electric shock?”
Your doubtful air makes me think that you doubt the veracity of that statement. Please note that I share your skepticism.
This being said (typed?), the fact was that an article published in the May 1915 issue of the American monthly Technical World Magazine mentioned the possibility of using a “mechanical dog” as an alarm system which could be equipped with a camera and a revolver. I kid you not.
The author of that article, a certain Philip G. Moses, had in all likelihood heard of a demonstration conducted for that purpose in February 1915 by the aforementioned Miessner.
Shortly before the start of a meeting of the Chicago Electric Club of… Chicago, Illinois, the light from the projector held by the latter accidentally activated the selenium cell of an experimental device which included bells, a camera and, you guessed it, a revolver.
Like any revolver worthy of its name, Miessner’s went off, scaring the cr*p out of everyone present, including Miessner of course. I kid you not. I dare to hope that said revolver was loaded with blanks.
Had the unknown author of the Images article heard of that rocambolesque story, you ask, my astonished reading friend? I do not know, but I wonder how he could have heard of what might very well have been a predecessor to the killer robots of the 21st century. (Hello, Skynet and Terminators!)
This being said (typed?), the mention of a weaponised robot is not the only fascinating aspect of Moses’ 1915 article. Nay.
Would you believe that the author of the Technical World Magazine article suggested that a version of the mechanical dog could be used to sweep carpets and rugs?

The robotic carpet and rug sweeper derived from the electric dog put together in 1912, I think, by the American radio engineer / inventor Benjamin Franklin Miessner. Philip G. Moses, “Mechanical Dog Does Housework.” Technical World Magazine, May 1915, 301.
Yes, yes, Moses described in 1915 a robotic carpet and rug sweeper somewhat similar to the robotic vacuum cleaner that the Swedish firm Aktiebolaget Electrolux, one of the world’s largest manufacturers of household appliances on our big blue marble, launched on the market in November… 2001. There is nothing new under the sun, for sure.

The Whirlpool Corporation mechanical maid demonstrated in the RCA Whirlpool Miracle Kitchen, an experimental kitchen of the future on display in the Amerikanskaya Natsiona’naya Vystavka held in Moskva / Moscow, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, between late July and early September 1959. Anon., “An Experiment in Wonders of the Future – This Kitchen Works Miracles!” Chicago Daily Tribune, 19 December 1959, 16.
Indeed, would you believe that, in 1959, Whirlpool Corporation, a renowned American manufacturer / marketer of home appliances, had demonstrated a robot which popped out of its niche in a wall to scrub / clean / rinse / dry or wax / polish the floor of the RCA Whirlpool Miracle Kitchen, an experimental kitchen of the future completed in late 1956 and displayed in many municipalities in the United States as well as in the Amerikanskaya Natsiona’naya Vystavka, in other words the American National Exhibition, held in Moskva / Moscow, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, between late July and early September 1959?
Please allow me to catch my breath, my impatient reading friend. That was a looong sentence and I am not a teenager anymore.
Incidentally, the RCA Whirlpool Miracle Kitchen was on display in Canada at least once, on the site of the 1957 edition of the Canadian National Exhibition, in Toronto, Ontario.
And yes, Whirlpool was indeed mentioned in November 2018, July 1019 and November 2023 issues of our clean and proper blog / bulletin / thingee. And no, Whirlpool’s mechanical maid was not commercialised. Pity.
The Electrolux Trilobite ZA1, the world’s first commercially available robotic vacuum cleaner by the way, retailed for US $1 300 in 2001, a sum which corresponded to $3 200 or so in 2024 currency.
And yes, my paleontology-fascinated reading friend, the Trilobite ZA1 was named after a class of fossil marine arthropods which roamed the waters of our Earth from the Adtabanian (Series 3 of the Cambrian – 520 or so million years before the Common Era) to the Changhsingian (Series 2 of the Lopingian / Upper Permian – 252 or so million years before the Common Era).
Trilobites were among the most successful animals in our planet’s long history. More than 22 000 species are known to date, with the largest measuring over 70 centimetres (over 28 inches) long and weighing up to about 4.5 kilograms (about 10 pounds). Only the Flying Spaghetti Monster knows how many species actually existed.
A somewhat indelicate digression if I may. The omnivore that I am wonders if trilobites were edible. What do you think?
Trilobites were among the vast majority (85%? 95%?) of all known marine animal species which disappeared in the mass extinction which occurred about 252 million years before the Common Era, an extinction which also wiped out about 70% of known land animal species. And yes, that mass extinction, the 3rd, was the worst our Earth has ever experienced to date.
Mind you, certain members of our species seem to be working flat out to ensure that the 21st century will see a 6th mass extinction which will wipe out countless species of marine and terrestrial animals and plants.
One cannot help wondering if the sinister Agent Smith of the American cyberpunk media franchise The Matrix was right. Are human beings a disease, a cancer of this planet? Are we a plague? But back to our electric dog.
During the 1930s, Piraux might have equipped Philidog with metal whiskers which might, I repeat, might, have served as organs of touch. He might also have equipped his creation with more sensitive photoelectric cells, cells capable of detecting the light of a simple flashlight. Piraux might also have replaced Philidog’s horn with a small phonograph placed inside its body, a phonograph which allowed it to growl as well as bark.
Philidog was seemingly not heard of between 1930 and 1935. That year, it made a notable appearance at the VIIIe Salon algérien de la T.S.F. held in October in Al-Jazāʾir El ʿĀṣima / Alger / Algiers, Algeria, in October. Philidog was not heard of again after that date, as far as yours truly can tell.
Philidog seemingly disappeared during the partial then total occupation of France, between 1940 and 1944, by National Socialist Germany. The author of an article published in the October 1957 issue of the French monthly magazine Atomes, the predecessor of the monthly La Recherche, born in 1970, regretted that disappearance.
According to him, that robot would have deserved a place in a French technical museum, probably the Musée des arts et métiers in Paris, the oldest science and technology museum on planet Earth and a component of the Conservatoire national des arts et métiers, a renowned French higher education institution specialising in scientific and technological education and in the dissemination of that knowledge.
That museum is definitely worth a visit, by the way, but I digress.

The American British roboticist / neurobiologist / cybernetician William Gray Walter watching as Elsie, one of his cybernetic tortoises, was about to enter its niche on its own volition so that it could recharge its rechargeable batteries. Claude Simon, “L’ère des robots approche – Job le renard va-t-il dérober ses lauriers à Elsie la tortue?” Terre des jeunes, 15 November 1953, 2.
Before I forget, the first robots capable of “thinking” even slightly like a living being were the British cybernetic tortoises Elmer and Elsie completed no later than September 1949 by the American British roboticist / neurobiologist / cybernetician William Gray Walter with the help of his spouse, the English radiographer Vivian Walter, born Dovey, and…
Did Walter choose to give the names Elmer and Elsie to his light and touch sensitive robots, robots capable of avoiding obstacles also, in honour of Elsie the cow and her spouse, Elmer, two well-known characters used in advertisements issued by an equally well-known American producer of beverage, consumer, food and industrial products, namely Borden Company, you ask, my reading friend? A plausible hypothesis, very good, my reading friend.
And before I forget, here is a brief video in English about our robotic testudines…

The French teacher / scientist / journalist / essayist / cybernetician Albert Ducrocq with his cybernetic creation, Job le renard, in English Job the fox. Anon., “À Job le renard électronique il manque à peine la parole.” Franc-Tireur, 7 October 1953, 1.
And you have a question, my reading friend whose curiosity is insatiable. What was the renard, in English the fox, named Job mentioned in the caption we have just read? A good question. Job was an electronic fox completed around September 1953 by the French teacher / scientist / journalist / essayist / cybernetician Albert Ducrocq.
Dressed in a genuine fox skin, which was somewhat disgusting, Job was endowed with the senses of sight, touch, orientation and hearing. It could also detect (metallic?) obstacles at a distance. Better yet, Job learned and remembered its past experiences through a memory. And yes, Job was technologically superior to Elmer and Elsie, but back to our story.
Philidog’s designer, the aforementioned Piraux, eventually became (after the Second World War?) head of technical propaganda for the French subsidiary of Philips’ Gloeilampenfabrieken. That was not his only role. Nay. In 1951, for example, Piraux was a lecturer at the École normale supérieure de l’enseignement technique, in Paris, and a member of a radio commission of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization.
Piraux left this world in Villiers-sur-Morin, France, not far from Paris, at the end of December 1979, at the age of 77.
See you later. And no, this issue of our verbose blog / bulletin / thingee was not all that brief. Sorry.