Bones Would Rain from the Sky: Deepening Our Relationships with Dogs Read online

  shocked when your dog is the target of another dog's seemingly inexplicable annoyance. As a rule of thumb, unless engaged in a game or posing a challenge, dogs don't maintain eye contact with each other. Appropriate leadership includes watching what our dogs are watching and making sure that rude staring contests are not going on, just as responsible parents would not allow their children to engage in such foolishly rude behavior. It always cracks me up when people visit and watch the interactions between my dogs. They seem to think we're living on the set of a nature documentary and that I've been given a copy of the script. And if things heat up to a mild grumble, the questions fly hot and fast: "Why did they do that? What does that mean? Why is he growling at her?" They're shocked when I sometimes answer that I have no idea what the hell the dogs are saying to each other. Though it's nice to have an understanding of what caused the problem, sometimes we just have to accept "Mom, she's looking at me like that again!" Like the wise parent who then blindfolds the kids or leaves the troublemaker at the next rest stop, we need to just trust the conflict is real though mysterious and deal with the participants appropriately. A mom routine is usually appropriate- I'll escort both dogs to their crates or separate them for a brief time-out. Our dogs rely on our leadership to provide them with protection. Maintaining an awareness of what is happening around and to a loved one is a tremendous gift of our attention. All of us long for a living, breathing guardian angel who watches out for us. This is something dogs have traditionally offered mankind; it seems only fair to reciprocate with loving, protective awareness of our own, at least for the dog at our side.

  keeping the covenant We may be very uncomfortable with the concepts of power, status and leadership within the context of our relationships with our dogs. And yet, no matter how unwilling we may be to think in such terms, it does not alter the reality that dogs perceive their world in these terms. If we fail to give full weight to the importance of benevolent, reliable and evenhanded leadership in a dog's life, we will fail our dogs. If we cannot come to grips with our own emotional responses to issues of power, our dogs will have to deal with the uncertainty and

  anxiety that many dogs experience when they lack appropriate leadership. Facing inconsistent or ineffective leadership, dogs will not interpret this as a momentary lapse or as the actions of a stressed human trying to fulfill far too many roles. Dogs will not understand that our inability to sort out our own feelings may be blocking us from acting as they need us to act. What dogs believe when faced with inadequate or shifting leadership is that change is in the wind. Should a leader grow old, incompetent, weak or be disabled in some way, the natural progression of canine society is for the role of leadership to be filled by someone more qualified and willing to take on the job. Someone must be in charge, preferably someone strong and sure and competent, and shifts in the behavior of a group's leader point to the potential need for some other member of the group to step up and take over that position of authority. Our behavior-whether we intend it to be or not-may serve as a marker that the pack's hierarchy is up for review and restructuring: "Seeking qualified leader for small, intimate pack. Benevolent management skills a must." This uncertainty about who is in charge can make dogs quite anxious, as any of us are in the face of uncertain but impending changes. And it can also make dogs behave in interesting (though often disconcerting, puzzling or even frightening) ways as they attempt to redefine their world and how their position in it may be shifting. A shake-up in the structure of the dog's family group is no less disconcerting and upsetting to a dog than an equivalent change is for us within our human families and groups. Following the death of our longtime pack leader, our dogs had to recast the pack order among themselves. Though the steadiness of what John and I were able to provide in terms of leadership helped ease their stress, the old dog's death left a hole in more than just our hearts-she left a gap that required the dogs to reestablish their status relative to each other. We need not be heavy-handed dictators or anxious bureaucrats who feel the need to enforce every subsection of every rule and regulation. We do need to ask our dogs if perhaps they need more from us, or if they need us to offer guidance with a lighter hand or with a crisper style. How do we ask them? We watch how it is they go through their days, noting where it is we feel that we cannot

  control or direct them, when it is that they ignore us or threaten us, or how it is that we accommodate them in order to prevent a confrontation or "trouble." If we can honestly assess where freedom and joy are limited by a dog's behavior, where our relationship feels strained, then we have identified the areas that need work. In trying to provide leadership for our dogs, we may need to undertake an internal journey to examine our own feelings about the issues of power and status, finding the balance that uniquely exists between one person and one dog. We may stuff our heads with theoretical understanding, but our dogs will remain unimpressed by anything but action. And without fail, lest our dogs pay for our failures with their lives, we must act. Love, after all, is an action, not a feeling, and leadership must spring from loving guidance. The German philosopher Goethe summed it up beautifully: "Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do." From moment to moment, in even the smallest of our actions, our dogs will read the answers to their lifelong questions: "Who's in charge? What are the rules? Where do I fit in?" In each moment, we offer our answers. If our heads are filled with notions of alpha wolves and rules, if we are shying away from our own feelings about authority and status and leadership, we may miss the many beautiful and gentle ways that we can answer our dogs with what they want and need to hear from us.

  Fear makes the wolf bigger than he Is. german proverb

  when little red riding hood notices that Grandmother has eyes much larger than remembered, her concern is quickly assuaged with a smooth assurance that it's simply "all the better to see you, my dear!" Puzzled by Grandmother's unusually large, oddly shaped ears, the dimwitted child is convinced with a smiling explanation-"All the better to hear you, my dear." But even dear, dull-minded Red can't help but notice the fangs, the collection of dental stalagmites and stalactites gleaming white and sharp, and at that moment she comes to understand that maybe the hairs on Grandma's chin aren't just personal hygiene choices. Something is very wrong, and while little Miss Hood is slow enough on the uptake to qualify as fit prey for any alert predator,

  even she knows that fangs usually don't spell fun. Within the context of the dogsthuman relationship, aggression is a topic that brings to mind . . . Tolkien's wise advice: "It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations if you live near him." The dragon, in this case, is not the possibility that our dogs may rise up against us in violent ways without warning or cause. Though the dog's potential for aggression is very real and to be respected, normal, healthy dogs do not suddenly go berserk or "turn on their owners" or act aggressively without reason. Instead, the dragon lurks in the form of our lack of understanding. Many aspects of our relationships with our dogs parallel our human relationships or are so similar that in many situations we might safely cross out the word dog and substitute child, lover or friend and still be appropriately guided as to what a loving action or response might be. When a dog snarls or growls or snaps or bites, we find ourselves in a strange land where we are not quite sure how to move safely. Quite sensibly, we may find ourselves afraid in the presence of throaty grumbles and bared teeth. Whether this is an archetypal response to a predatory threat or just a commonsense desire to keep our skin intact, it doesn't change the fact that few of us look upon a growling or biting dog with equanimity. Our lack of understanding about what lies behind our dogs' growls, snarls, snaps and bites can create very serious problems within our relationships with our dogs. Where understanding is absent or incomplete, fear slides in to fill the gaps between what we know, and we live in an uncomfortable place where we cannot distinguish threat from invitation. Unable to understand the behaviors that may frighten, threaten and possibly hurt us, we remain unable
to understand the dog himself. The dog unfortunately bears the brunt of our misunderstanding and fear; when in doubt, we tend to assume the worst. At the very least, we may find ourselves bewildered and frightened by a dog's aggressive behavior, and confused as to how best to respond. Frustrated, we may end up simply managing the

  unwanted behavior instead of working toward a resolution. At the other end of the spectrum, a dog may end up dead, his epitaph simply-and quite possibly inaccurately-just this: "He was aggressive." The ancient Celtic tale of the dog Gelert is one that bears repeating. A knight's hunting hound, Gelert, was prized for his skill as a ruthless killer of wolves, yet also a faithful and kind companion to the knight and his family. The story tells of the wolf who has crept into the child's room, and the fierce battle between the loyal hound and the wolf. In their struggle, the baby's cradle is overturned, the child unhurt but hidden under the bedding. Wolf and dog lock in mortal combat, and blood flows freely. At last, in a dim corner of the room, the hound manages to kill the wolf. Hearing the sounds of a struggle, guards and the child's nurse rush in to find Gelert standing alone in the middle of the room, covered in blood. Surveying the scene, not noticing the dead wolf's body hidden in the shadows, not looking beneath the bedclothes of the top- pled cradle, all present leap to the conclusion that Gelert has killed and eaten the child. Stunned and furious, the grieving knight orders that the dog be killed on the spot. It is only after the dog is dead that the child is discovered alive and well. The wolf's body bears grim testament to the loyalty of the dog and the fears and faithlessness of men. Aggression is a heavily loaded word, conjuring up various images depending upon the mind of the speaker and of the listener, and it is not particularly descriptive or informative. Labeling a behavior as simply "aggressive" tells us nothing about the situation and the motivation behind the behavior. "That dog is aggressive" might mean that given the opportunity, he would rip your throat out. It might as easily mean that the dog growls when someone tries to clip his nails, or barks wildly at other dogs on the street, or fiercely defends a car from threats such as people walking past with shopping carts, or that he has killed a squirrel, or that he has bitten someone breaking into his house. These and other behaviors are often labeled as aggressive, but they are not all the same, nor should they be handled in the same way. So, why do dogs act aggressively? No matter how fearsome we may find their behavior, we can find

  some relief in the knowledge that dogs act aggressively for the same basic reasons we do: fear, pain, irritation, anger, protection of territory (in humans, this is known as war), protection of family (usually puppies are being guarded, though bitches experiencing false pregnancy may protect completely imaginary or substitute puppies, such as toys; dogs can and do protect other family members of whatever species), self defense, protection of possessions and resources, sexual conflict, social status, hunger. And like humans, dogs can act aggressively in abnormal ways due to biochemical imbalances, various diseases, genetic defects, psychological and/or physical abuse, drugs or chemicals, and for reasons science cannot explain. Like their human counterparts, such abnormal dogs are rare but can be extremely dangerous. Having already established that dogs act as they do for a reason (whether a good reason or not, whether the reason is one we can understand or even vaguely apprehend), it's safe to say that any behavior we might care to tar with the broad brush of "aggression" has a reason behind it. In cases of aggressive human behavior, the situation in which the crime is committed along with the motivation or intent behind the criminal act all are weighed in society's final determination of just how serious a particular act may be. (keep in mind that in human society self-defense is a justifiable motivation for something as terrible as murder.) As with all behavior, the context in which the behavior occurs is critically important to our understanding of what prompted the growl, snap or snarl. If we are unable to place the "aggression" within its proper context, we will undoubtedly view it from just one perspective- ours, and from that limited and often fearful perspective, we will undoubtedly be wrong. At the root of all aggressive behavior (not predatory behavior) is this simple truth: There is a problem, a conflict on some level-physical, mental or emotional. If we can keep that uppermost in our minds when dealing with aggression issues, then we pull away the mystical shroud of aggression as something only experts can understand. Though expert help may be

  needed to resolve an aggression issue, all of us are capable of imaginatively projecting ourselves into the dog's point of view and perhaps understanding how he might be perceiving a conflict. Whether that conflict or problem is crystal clear to you is another story, but as previously discussed, dogs can be counted on to tell you their truth at the moment. If a dog is acting in any way that seems aggressive, he has a reason. Normal, healthy dogs don't tend to go tilting at windmills or fighting nonexistent battles. Not even Boxers shadowbox. Illness, pain, biochemical disorders, seizure disorders and disease can make dogs act aggressively in abnormal ways. (the first step in dealing with any aggressive behavior is a thorough physical examination to rule out these possible causes. Yet even in such cases, the aggressive behavior is an important message that something is wrong.) that kind of dog When dealing with aggression in any form, we need to tread carefully, alert for the stumbling blocks of our own (often false) assumptions. If we truly seek to understand a dog's behavior, then we cannot ever forget that all dogs are dogs. To the extent that we have a sanitized view of our dogs, we will inevitably be shocked, horrified and gravely disappointed by our dogs when they act in doglike ways. I've met many bewildered dog owners who told me, "I couldn't believe Duke could (choose one or more: bark, growl, snarl, snap, bite, attack, kill)! I didn't think he was that kind of dog." I'm not sure just what "that kind of dog" might be. All dogs are the same kind of dogs-dogs who can bark, growl, snarl snap and bite. Every dog-regardless of parentage, pedigree or personality-possesses the full repertoire of normal canine behavior. I've never met a dog incapable of growling, barking, snarling, snapping or biting. These are all normal dog behaviors, and an integral part of canine communications. (ironically, these same behaviors serve to prevent serious violence between dogs!) The difference from dog to dog has to do with the dog's individual

  personality, his social experience, his genetics, his upbringing, his health, sex, age, diet and the situation. The only difference between individual dogs and the larger groups of individual breeds is the readiness with which various behaviors can be triggered and the extent to which a dog will carry his aggression. Dogs created to guard may be more quickly triggered to act in aggressive ways than dogs bred to work as bird dogs or as ladies' companions. But this does not guarantee that guarding or working breeds will bite or that lapdogs and retrievers won't. A familiar parallel can be found in our understanding that men are most likely to act violently, though women are certainly equally capable of the same behavior. And while adults are more likely to be dangerous than are children, the truth remains that children are capable of dangerous-even deadly-behavior. To point to any individual dog or breed or group of breeds and make assumptions is about as helpful to your relationship with a dog as an evaluation of violent domestic crime statistics will be to your marriage. Folks who've bought the whitewash job that certain dogs or breeds are nonaggressive are invariably shocked when their dog, who did not read the propaganda, acts in a way that proves that Aunt Tilly's lapdog is as capable of snarls, snaps, growls and bites as a street dog in the Bronx. Konrad Lorenz wrote of looking out his window onto a grisly scene of bloodied snow where two dogs had caught a deer and savagely torn it apart. He turns and looks at his four-year-old granddaughter asleep before the fireplace, peacefully snuggled up with his large dogs-the same two dogs who had killed the deer. A dog is a dog is a dog. We want to believe in the Lassie myth, to focus only on the dog's gentle, forgiving, loving nature. Of all the rocks on which we may stub our emotional toes, this is a big one. We do not want to think that the dog lying at our feet is a predator and a powerful one at that. It
may be that we'd prefer that the people and animals we love most dearly have no dark, ugly side; we idealize them with this simple "Oh, he'd never do that!" or "She's just not that kind of person." In any relationship, such sanitized, idealized views of

  another being does not lead to deeper understanding or a more intense connection but to the inevitable disappointment that occurs when we are unable to embrace both the potential for both light and the dark contained in all of us. This is not to say that all dogs will sooner or later act in aggressive ways, no more than all humans will eventually harm another person. The dark potential that lurks within each of us needs to be recognized, and our relationships shaped to encourage the joyful lightness of being, not trigger the ugly possibilities.