Bones Would Rain from the Sky Page 20
Faced with the question of how to entertain three six-week-old puppies who appear to be nothing but biting and chewing machines (all right, in their spare time they are eating, peeing and pooping machines as well), we’ve rummaged through the freezer to come up with perfectly sized puppy bones. Raw beef bones, they are just right for small, eager jaws and provide a bit of nutrition as well, as the pups use their sharp teeth to strip bits of meat and fat from the bones. For the sake of uninterrupted chewing time, we’ve blocked the adult dogs from the puppy pen for a few hours. When I wander out to see how the puppies are faring, I open the gate, and immediately, all the adults leap over the low barrier that keeps the puppies where we want them. With wriggles of delight, the puppies abandon their bones and dash to greet their elders.
I warn the adults to leave the bones alone, and they do, but in their sidelong glances at and casual passes near the bones they make it clear that they’re keeping a close eye on the little treasures in case I either change my mind or forget. The initial excitement of reunion over, the puppies return to their bones. I watch as puppy Bird grabs one, drawing two-year-old Bee’s attention. Nose down, clearly intent on the bone, Bee approaches Bird, who deftly spins away, keeping her prize out of reach. After just two or three determined avoidance spins, Bee lets the puppy wander off, watching with a soft expression and wagging tail as Bird struggles to carry a bone easily as big as her head.
As Bird demonstrated, even very young puppies are granted the right to exercise one of the most respected laws of canine society: possession. No matter how low-ranking the dog, if he has something in his mouth or immediate vicinity, he has a right to defend it if he wants to. Wolf expert David Mech has observed this same behavior in wild wolves, something he calls the “ownership zone” around the wolfs mouth. To be fair with our dogs, we need to remember this when working with them so that they learn to voluntarily give up possessions if asked; should we forget, we might get a response from the dog that surprises or upsets us but equally shocks the dog in the rudeness of our own behavior!
Generally speaking, the higher the dog’s status, the larger the zone around him that constitutes “vicinity.” Very high ranking dogs might place something quite a distance from their paws and still have it “in their possession.” This was a particularly favorite sport of my dog Bear, who would make a big show of some prize to puppies who needed to learn a lesson or two about respecting this most basic canine law. With much drama, Bear would lie down, deliberately placing the object as far from his paws as the reach of his head and neck allowed. Depending on how sophisticated the puppies were socially, Bear might simply just wait for a puppy to show interest, never taking his eyes off the youngster and quick to warn the puppy at the first hint that the puppy was thinking about snatching the bone. A more advanced pup might be given the very casual act, in which Bear appeared quite uninterested in the bone though he was actually keeping tabs on the pup in his peripheral vision. Attempts by the pup to grab the object in this setting were often met with more dramatic vocalizations and fierce air snaps.
Lower-ranking dogs might need to have it directly under their chin or actually in their mouth for the possession to be recognized. Bird, for example, would not have dared to put her bone down in Bee’s presence—at most, she would have put the bone on the ground and then hovered directly over it. Generally speaking, there is an inverse relationship between the distance at which a dog feels the need to protect a possession and his level of confidence. A deeply confident dog might not even glance up as you walk directly past him while he’s working on a delicious bone, while a much less confident dog might start anxiously growling the moment you enter the room or look his way. (Note: Appropriately handled from early puppyhood, a dog should not feel anxious or worried about his possessions, at least in regard to people. But this requires deliberate and systematic desensitization such as offered in Dr. Ian Dunbar’s program, Sirius Puppy Training.)
While Bee, a young adult, could have snatched the bone from the twelve-pound puppy, her response to Bird was the same as it would have been if her older brother Grizzly had had a bone—interested investigation, evidence of “Boy, I’d like that” but also respectful acknowledgment of “No, sorry, this is mine!” even when it was given by a six-week-old puppy. This is not to say that possession gives the possessor undisputed rights to keep his prize, whatever it may be. A high-status dog can use his status to intimidate another dog into dropping a possession or walking away from food by using nothing more than a look. At one house we lived in, there was an old in-ground pool, perfect for the dogs, who greatly enjoyed retrieving balls and bumpers by diving off the side to swim in fierce competition to be the first to get there. Our oldest male at the time, Banni, decided that in his old age, he didn’t have a prayer of beating the youngsters to the ball, and after a while, he adopted a new strategy. We’d throw in a ball and he’d watch as the young dogs launched themselves with exuberant splashes, eager to beat each other to the toys. While they exhausted themselves swimming hard, Banni would walk over to the stairs—the only exit from the pool—and wait. In order to get out of the pool, they had to pass him, and at that point, he’d exert his status with a pointed stare; reluctantly, they’d drop the ball or bumper, and it was his. Sometimes, a dog would turn his head away from Banni and try to sneak past. This worked some of the time, especially if there were several dogs approaching at once with balls. Some dogs would deliberately swim around for a while, waiting for someone else to be the sacrificial lamb at the stairs, and then, while Banni was occupied with that dog, they would dash by and out of the pool.
With something in his possession, a low-ranking dog may defend it even against higher-status dogs. Even at the tender age of six weeks, Bird included a low growl with her evasive maneuvers to let Bee know that she meant to keep her bone. Other than being a fascinating glimpse into dog behavior, what does this mean for us in our relationships with our dogs? It points to the reality that status alone is insufficient for our dogs to willingly surrender objects, whether food or toys. Even with a dog who respects you as the high-status family member, the natural inclination to simply pick up the object and evade you is a perfectly natural, reasonable and not disrespectful response. From the dog’s perspective, he is within his rights to do so. Our attempts to either wrest the object from his jaws or to intimidate him into giving it up may, understandably, be met with a fully canine response of growls and warnings. We’re not acting like leaders or high-status family members; we’re just acting rudely.
Understanding that in a dog’s world, possession is nine-tenths of the law leads us to choose a different approach in teaching the dog to voluntarily surrender anything in his possession. Whenever we are able to gain voluntary compliance from another, we sidestep the potentially thorny moments of conflict and possible confrontation. We already apply this principle in our human relationships—forcing someone to accede to your demands may, in the short run, result in “success” if you’re willing to view success as simply the achievement of your goals. But compelling another’s cooperation has long-term effects; you may have won the battle but lost the war and possibly damaged the relationship. Voluntary actions leave dignity intact, and for any social animal, the value and importance of “saving face” should not be underestimated. Forced compliance can lead to a spiraling effect: A dog who has a bit of garbage wrestled from his mouth may give it up—that time. Next time, however, he may be even quicker to defend his prize and, now aware that you’re willing to engage in a physical confrontation, be prepared to fight back. At the first sign of any interest on your part, the dog may growl or run off. This can quickly escalate to a nasty cycle with emotions and frustrations running high on both sides.
There’s a need to both respect the value of what the dog considers important and to balance that with the practical reality that like children, dogs sometimes need to be kept safe from some of the things they may find, steal or be given that may not be good for them. The easiest approach i
s to teach the dog that voluntarily surrendering any items to you is a good and profitable thing. One way to teach this is to set up specific training sessions where you systematically ask the dog to “trade” what he has in his mouth for a particularly yummy treat in your hand. When he releases the item, you quietly pick it up while simultaneous ly popping the treat in his mouth. Then, and this is the critical part, you return his treasure to him. Repeated over and over with every item you can think of, the dog learns that surrendering his treasure earns him a treat as well as the return of his possessions. Sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too!
Working with a dog from a local animal shelter, I was amused by his attempts to both retain a stuffed toy banana and eat the proffered liver in my hand. For a good minute or more, the dog tried every possibility he could imagine to shift the banana in his mouth to make room for the liver, but when that didn’t work, he finally dropped the toy and reached for the treat. Since his behavior indicated he was quite anxious about losing the rare opportunity to play with a toy (shelter dogs often lead terribly deprived lives, since keeping them alive takes priority over the niceties of toys and play time), I did not reach for the dropped toy with my hand, but instead moved quietly and stepped on it with a foot. Had I reached directly for the toy, the dog might have felt the need to gulp the treat and then desperately lunge for his precious toy.
Instead of reaching for the toy, I tossed another treat past him, so that he had to turn away from me and hunt briefly for the liver. This gave me time to take advantage of a loophole in the canine possession law—if you voluntarily turn your attention away from an object and another dog swoops in and takes it, that’s fair. Puppies and determined young dogs learn to patiently wait as close as another dog will allow, watching and waiting for that moment when something draws the possessor’s attention away. Once the attention is truly shifted to something else, they make their move, looking very much like a runner stealing a base. I’ve not seen a normal dog chase down the one who successfully took the possession under these conditions (though I have seen them chase a dog who tried a snatch from right under the owner’s watchful eye!) but the ritual of “It’s mine!” and “Give it up!” can and often does start all over again.
Though the dog noticed that I had the toy in my possession as he turned back to me, it had been accomplished “fairly” according to his canine perspective and without ever making him feel threatened. Best of all, from his point of view, I returned it to him with a smile. After a few minutes of practice, the dog was agreeable to giving me the toy by placing it in my hand in return for a treat. He had learned to trust that I would keep my word and wanted to just momentarily trade one for the other; trading with me did not mean the loss of his toy.
Eventually, over time, I would have gone a step further and occasionally begun to keep the item I had traded for, but would have returned to him another toy or suitable treasure so that the notion of “if you give me this, I’ll give you that, and then you’ll get a toy back” was firmly in place. Finally, I would have worked with the dog so that even without a specific trade in mind, he would volunteer whatever he had for my interested examination. I love how dogs watch me with great curiosity as I peer at the item and even sniff it; some look just a wee bit concerned if I am too enthusiastic about their prize, while others wag their tail in agreement that it is indeed wonderful! What I want and work for is the dog to wait patiently for me to return the item, which I do within a few seconds, usually telling them, “That’s really very special! Thank you!”
Practiced in calm, nonconfrontational settings, teaching a dog to trade is preparation for the day when you will not be able to return his treasure—say, an expensive shoe or a chicken bone. When Bee as a teenage dog pranced into the living room with an entire stick of butter, I had to merely inquire with happy curiosity, “Well, well, what have you got?” and she trotted directly to me, pleased as punch to hand over her loot. Though I did not return the butter, I was quick to tell her how pleased I was that she had let me have it, and together, we ran to the kitchen to find a tasty reward. I then made quite sure that I quickly located a suitable toy and played with her briefly. Butter safely retrieved, Bee happily settled down with the toy, and all ended pleasantly with no upset feelings on either side.
While undisputed access to resources is a key act of leadership, we need to also remember that from the dog’s point of view, even a small puppy has the right to keep what is actually in their mouth. Understanding this cardinal law of canine behavior, we can find ways to encourage our dogs to cooperate with us in ways that will keep them safe and not damage the relationship, as might happen when we act in ways that make no sense from a canine perspective.
13
WHOSEM COUCH IS IT, ANYWAY?
If I can listen to what he tells me, if I can understand how it seems to him, if
I can sense the emotional flavor which it has for him, then I will be releasing
the portent forces of change within him.
CARL ROGERS
THE AFGHAN BITCH, OPAL, WAS LOVELY, and her adoptive owner Mary Anne was delighted with this quiet, well-behaved dog. Opal’s background was unknown—a rescue group had discovered her in an animal shelter and had fostered her until Mary Anne adopted her. All was fine until the day Mary Anne entered the living room to find Opal on the couch. This was not a problem in and of itself—dogs were quite welcome to share the furniture. A longtime hound owner, Mary Anne knew that most hounds possess a gene that unerringly directs them to the nearest (and softest) cushion in any situation. What surprised her was the deep growling that arose from Opal when Mary Anne approached the couch. Though taken aback, Mary Anne moved closer, motioning with her hand as she told Opal to get off the sofa. The growl grew more intense, and when Mary Anne reached for the dog, meaning only to gently guide her on to the floor, long jaws snapped at the air near her hand. Not sure what to do, Mary Anne retreated from the room, unwilling to be bitten. As she stood staring out the kitchen window while she thought about this ugly turn of events, Opal trotted into the room, tail wagging. The dog seemed fine, as loving and friendly as ever, and Mary Anne put the behavior down as perhaps a leftover from the dog’s mysterious past or maybe even just an off day. Perhaps, she told herself, she had startled the dog or woken her from a dream. Quite a few days passed before the situation repeated itself. This time Opal began growling as soon as Mary Anne entered the room. This time Mary Anne was concerned enough to call for help.
When I met Opal, the aloof yet soulful Afghan gaze sent me flying back in my memories to my own Afghan many years ago. She was surprisingly assured in my living room, which was filled with the scents of my own dogs. A warning bark from behind my office door (Carson notifying all interested that she was on duty) merited only a mildly interested glance from the hound, who calmly curled up between Mary Anne and me. Though quiet and friendly, Opal was also quite confident, something Mary Anne did not fully recognize. “The poor thing—I feel so bad for her. How could anyone give up such a beautiful dog?” She gazed down at Opal with a pitying smile. “I guess maybe this aggression comes from being abused?”
When problem behaviors arise, kindhearted owners sometimes blame the dog’s history, as Mary Anne did, believing that the problem was a result of prior abuse. Like Mary Anne, many owners who have rescued or adopted a dog also hold the image of the “poor thing” so clearly in their minds that they cannot see the reality of the dog standing before them. Opal’s assured greeting of me and her total relaxation on what was decidedly the home turf of many large, strange dogs revealed a dog with a fairly high degree of confidence. Having sympathy for a dog’s past experiences is a good thing, and understanding a dog’s background can provide important clues. And in cases of extreme abuse or neglect, there may be gaps or holes that can be only roughly patched, never fully overcome; scars sometimes remain in body and spirit. But we must always keep our eyes open to really see our dogs as they are, not lock them in their past or carry for the
m the emotional baggage that they have discarded.
If good, reliable information is available, understanding the past is helpful in that it may point to reasons why certain behaviors or attitudes are more difficult to change. Far too often, however, well-meaning people such as Mary Anne “hallucinate” the dog’s past. While abusive pasts certainly do exist for many dogs, it does the dog very little good if we interpret his behavior through that particular filter. No relationship thrives if one of us is busy hallucinating what the other’s reality might be; intimacy is not founded on supposition but on knowledge of how the world seems through another pair of eyes. In trying to know another, we may guess, but then need ways to ask if we have guessed correctly, “Is this so for you?” If we can’t create a way to ask the dog in some way whether our guess is correct or not, we are indulging in kindhearted hallucination.
I often remind clients that if they had simply found the dog on the street, they would have no clue as to the dog’s past, no rationalizations or excuses for why a dog acted in a particular way. The only assessment they could make is the one that needs to be made: What, if any, of the dog’s behaviors offer evidence that the dog needs to learn better ways of coping with his life so that fear, anxiety, uncertainty or even anger can be minimized or eliminated? Having made such an assessment, it’s time to get to work on making positive changes. As a Zen saying asks, “This being the case, how then shall I proceed?” Undesirable or unproductive behavior—whatever its source—always needs to be resolved.
Mary Anne’s kindheartedness had also played a key role in leading the dog to the unfortunate conclusion that she, Opal, was actually the highest-ranking member of the household. Eager to make the dog feel secure and loved, Mary Anne had thoughtfully provided for Opal’s every need. If Opal nudged her hand, Mary Anne showered her with attention, trying to make up for the sad circumstances she imagined in Opal’s past. Should Opal cast a glance toward her food bowl, Mary Anne was quick to provide a treat. A slight restlessness on Opal’s part resulted in Mary Anne leaping up to take the hound outside or even for a leisurely walk. While all of this loving care was provided with nothing but the very best intentions, it backfired. To the canine mind, certain privileges such as access to resources and the right to elicit/demand attention are associated with high status. When Mary Anne lovingly delivered valuable resources like food and fun (walks) at Opal’s request, the hound interpreted this as proof that she was a high-ranking dog. When Mary Anne responded to Opal’s desire for petting, this just underlined the message. To top it all off, Mary Anne’s gestures toward the dog looked even to my noncanine eye to be quite deferential: slow, almost hesitant, quick to freeze or withdraw at any sign from Opal. Although I knew Mary Anne was intending only to act in gentle, nonthreatening ways, Opal was viewing their interactions quite differently from her thor oughly canine perspective. After a period of months of receiving these inadvertent messages regarding her status, Opal felt quite well within her rights as the top-ranking family member to tell others that she did not wish to be disturbed while on the couch. Rule setting was her high status privilege, and she intended to enforce her edicts in fully canine ways with growls, snarls, and even bites.