Bones Would Rain from the Sky Page 26
Any situation that creates anxiety, anger, pain or fear in a dog is a situation where a bite might be triggered. The most dangerous dog behaviors are the aggressive behaviors (especially fearful ones) that are managed, but not dealt with and resolved by providing the dog with new skills for coping with the triggering situations. (Actually, within any relationship, the combination of intense emotion—especially fear or anger—and inadequate coping skills for the situation that provokes such feelings is a minefield of potential.) Closed doors, locked gates, carefully controlled environments and even complete agreement of family members to protect the dog or manage the behavior do nothing to defuse a potential time bomb. Accidents happen, dogs get free, people make mistakes. Here in a comfortably sized training room, Chelsea had the room to retreat to a safe distance and still keep me in sight. At home, in the more crowded spaces where walls and furniture might block escape routes or trap an already anxious dog, there might not be—to Chelsea’s mind—any option but to snap or bite. At the moment, she also benefited from my desire to keep her feeling safe. In another situation, a well-meaning but uninformed person who simply wanted to greet her or who stumbled toward her might accidentally pressure Chelsea past her ability to cope, and without meaning to, trigger a snap or an actual bite.
Chelsea was not a dog with deep fear, just a dog with a fair amount of insecurity. If Chelsea’s alarming behavior had been correctly interpreted as a lack of confidence and handled in ways meant to build her confidence and not simply punish her fear, she might have sailed through without any real problems. The puppy’s strong genetic soundness and her early socialization came shining through as I worked to build her confidence. Within a few minutes, she was able to stand in front of me, happily nudging my hand for more food. Knowing that her owner had faithfully done the obedience training at home, I began to put the puppy through her paces, asking her to do everything she knew: sit, down, stand, stay, heeling and coming to sit in front of me. (Nothing like being asked to do what you know how to do to restore confidence to anyone who’s feeling anxious: “I know how to do that!”) She knew her stuff and was a delightful partner in our work together. As she realized that I would not hurt or frighten her but instead made things very enjoyable, she threw herself into the spirit of the game. Initially, I moved carefully, making all my gestures and movements slow and deliberate. But as Chelsea’s confidence and trust in me grew, I moved faster, made my gestures larger and quicker. In less than ten minutes, we were able to romp around the training room like lunatics, whooping and laughing and dancing around, mixing up commands as fast as I could think of them and she could comply. The out-of-control, fearful, retreating puppy was actually a genius who thoroughly enjoyed working with people.
What alarms me in cases like this is not the dog’s behavior, but the sad reality that the dog’s behavior was badly misunderstood and misread as “aggressive.” In Chelsea’s case, the lack of understanding from a professional trainer nearly resulted in her death. Only her breeder’s insistence that the owner seek a second opinion from another trainer (in this case, me) saved the puppy’s life. Unfortunately, this misunderstanding is not uncommon. And it is the dogs who pay with their lives for our failure to understand what they are often trying to tell us in their behavior—that they are uncertain, afraid, lacking the skills they need to share the complicated and confusing human world.
CAN YOU HEAR ME?
A few years ago, I received a letter from a woman who was seeking help with her clog Baron, a very large breed that at maturity weighed 125 pounds or more. From her description, the dog sounded like a pretty normal dog with good socialization and training. Apparently, Baron had been limping, and when she examined his paw and leg, he had growled at her. Shocked, she immediately yelled at him and pushed him to the ground in a “dominant down” to remind him who was the “top dog” before running him through a series of obedience exercises for ten minutes or so (although he was still limping). When she reached for his paw again, he growled before she even touched the foot. Again she yelled at him and threw him to the ground. The third attempt resulted in a short growl that stopped when she yelled at him. Finding nothing, she took Baron to the vet.
When the vet tried to examine the dog’s paw, there was no growl before Baron silently grabbed the man’s hand, doing no damage, leaving nothing more than spit. Embarrassed and upset by her dog’s behavior, the woman repeated the cycle of yelling, dominant down and obedience work. Eventually, after a struggle, the dog was immobilized and his paw was examined. Nothing serious was found, though the dog continued to limp for many days.
In her letter, she stated her deep concern that this dog was potentially aggressive. Although she had embarked on a course of handling the dog’s paws many times a day, punishing all growls or mouthing by the dog, Baron was still growling. In her mind, a growl allowed to exist only opened the door for more aggression, and to her way of thinking, the dog’s mouthing of the vet’s hand proved that she was right to think so. Having sought help from local trainers, she was horrified by the recommendations she had heard, which included putting an electric shock collar on the dog to teach him not to growl when his paw was touched. Her question to me was this: “How do I teach my dog never to growl or put his mouth on me even if he is in pain?”
Every now and then, I get letters that make me very sad; this was one of them. While the woman was without question well meaning, the philosophy that lay at the heart of this dilemma was beyond what I could address in a brief response. If I took away her voice or ability to write, how might she communicate when she was hurting or afraid? What she was asking for was not only unrealistic but unfair—a dog who never, ever communicated with her except in ways she found acceptable.
Unable to see the dog’s growl as a communication, the woman ended up fearfully interpreting the growl as a threat and was quite worried that this “aggression” would get worse. Threats (real or perceived) frighten us; in our fear, we often strike back against a perceived attack. Sadly, many “training” techniques are little more than thinly disguised attacks on dogs who have perhaps threatened us in some way, with such justified attacks meant to teach them “respect,” which really means meekly submitting to us no matter what we do to them. This approach reminds me of the scene in The Maltese Falcon where, for the second time, Humphrey Bogart has slapped Peter Lorre. When Lorre threateningly complains about this insult, Bogart responds, “When you’re slapped, you’ll take it and like it.”
Most of us, in similar situations, would probably meekly do as this dog did. If you warned someone that you were afraid of having your hand touched, and they disregarded this but grabbed your hand anyway, you might raise your voice: “I said leave me alone!” If in response to this understandable outburst, they attacked you and threw you to the ground and then made you recite multiplication tables, you might find that a very frightening scenario indeed; that is hardly a normal response to your verbal warning. If this scenario were repeated, you’d probably learn that allowing your hand to be examined was the lesser of two evils, but your trust in that person would be damaged. Our lack of trust and understanding must be terribly confusing for dogs, who are communicating to us in the clearest way they know how: fully canine ways.
From the dog’s perspective, this is a very different story. If we were able to go back in time and witness the events, keeping our eye on the dog at all times, we’d find another version of what happened. The dog is limping, a clear sign that something is painful. As the woman reaches for his foot, some subtle changes occur in the dog’s expression and body. Unseen, his tail droops slightly. He turns his head away from her, perhaps licking his lips, or—depending on his temperament—may hold his head over and near the foot, protecting it from contact much like a dog uses his head to cover a toy he does not want taken away. Like anyone anticipating a touch in a painful area, he holds his breath; his lips might compress slightly, and his ears slide back and down. In each and every one of these signs, he is saying, “Be c
areful. This is a problem for me.” But intent on her examination, she does not notice these things. The dog probably tries to pull the paw out of her hand, but she does not let him. As she examines the foot, the dog—having had all his more subtle signs disregarded—growls. To his relief, the woman apparently understands the growl and lets go of the foot.
What happens next is not at all what the dog expects: The woman roars at him and pins him to the ground. From the dog’s point of view, this act of aggression is shocking and without any rationale. She snaps a leash onto his collar and begins to insist that he heel, and sit, and lie down. Anxious to appease her inexplicable wrath, not wanting to trigger another aggressive act by her, he complies. Finally, she appears mollified, but to his dismay, she reaches for his foot again. In addition to the pain in his foot, he now has another concern: his unpredictable owner who may attack him without provocation. Anxious and hurting, upset and confused, he does not wait till she has touched the foot—he growls as soon as she begins to reach for him. When once again she screams and throws him to the ground, he begins to understand that she is responding to his growl. From his canine point of view, this makes no sense. In all his body language, he is clearly indicating a warning, not a challenge to a fight; yet her response is (from a dog’s perspective) abnormal, dangerous, clearly aggressive. When he growls the third time, he pays attention to her verbal warning and thus avoids her aggression. Though he is still afraid, though his paw still hurts, he decides that allowing her to examine his foot is not as bad as being attacked by her.
When he gets to the veterinarian’s office, he again tries to warn all involved using many subtle gestures, but his communications go unheeded. He makes the warning as clear as he can, though he now knows better than to growl—his owner has taught him that growling is not acceptable. What amazes me is that the dog—despite what he might very rightly view as attacks on him physically—still remains cooperative, still inhibits his behavior, does not do what he’s well capable of doing: biting. This is a very large dog whose mouth easily encompassed the veterinarian’s entire hand, a dog with sufficient jaw pressure to have badly maimed or even bitten off fingers without much effort. But he did not even leave the tiniest bruise—exerting no pressure whatsoever, he simply holds the man’s hand, trying to make his point very clear: “Please, don’t do that.”
In working with dogs, I’ve more than once caught a flash of surprise and relief in a dog’s eyes when he realized that I heard and heeded his subtle communications, that there was no need to growl or bite. Clients are often surprised when I cheerfully assure them that it’s a good sign that their dog is growling before he bites (or is simply growling without the bite). While I’d much rather that a happier relationship existed between client and dog so that growling wasn’t necessary, it’s good to know that the dog is still willing to offer warnings, giving us a chance to change our behavior. He’s letting us know just where the tricky spots are, not simply attacking. “Be careful,” he tells us, “you are treading on thin ice.” Though their method of communicating may sometimes be alarming if we do not understand that growls and snaps are valuable messages, I am grateful that dogs keep trying.
In any relationship, feedback (even unwelcome feedback that indicates great frustration and anger) is an opportunity to examine the underlying problem and work to find a resolution. To ignore what others tell us about their frustration or anger or fear is emotionally cruel and will eventually erode relationships at a very deep level. Dogs who do not warn but bite are difficult on many levels. Be grateful for and do not punish growls, but do work to resolve whatever has prompted the growl. Punishing or suppressing a growl does not change the underlying feeling, no more than biting back “Damn!” in the presence of delicate Aunt Tillie changes the feeling that prompted it. Punished into silence, the dog learns to not give you that very important warning signal. Though it may be more surprising to us when he bites “without warning,” we forget that we’ve told him we don’t want to hear any warnings!
A growl can simply be a trigger for us to indulge in our own worst fears, or it can be an important signal and an opportunity for greater understanding. We have to be willing to accept that not all of our dog’s communications will be happy and pleasant messages; a dog may need to tell us he is afraid or hurting or angry. If we turn a deaf ear to all but what we want to hear, we are going to miss opportunities to help our dogs resolve or learn to handle whatever it is that has frightened, hurt, irritated or angered him. If, as is far too common, we actually punish the dog for these communications, we will seriously undermine the relationship. No relationship can thrive when communication is blocked.
LISTENING
When we seek understanding of a dog’s behavior—and particularly what we consider to be aggressive behavior—we cannot lose sight of the fact that behavior is communication, and communication does not occur in a vacuum. It is aimed at someone for some reason, and the full story is unimportant to our understanding and to our ultimate decision of how best to respond.
Understanding that aggression is a form of communication does not mean that the behavior is acceptable, no more than a child slugging his brother out of frustration or an adult yelling at the bank clerk because a check was bounced is acceptable behavior. It does mean that we make the effort to look for the message behind the behavior. A dog who growls at a veterinarian trying to examine painfully infected ears is quite different from the dog who growls at someone for making eye contact with him. A dog who attacks and kills a rabbit is in a different category from the dog who attacks and maims a child. A dog who bites a burglar who has broken into our home is quite different from the dog who bites visiting Aunt Tillie when she stands up to totter off to the powder room. A dog who acts aggressively on our behalf, scaring off a would-be attacker or thief is considered a hero; biting the hand that feeds you is the act of a scoundrel.
When we understand the motivation behind the behavior, when we can see what the dog was trying to communicate, when we can see the situation from the dog’s perspective, we are better able to intelligently assess and humanely correct the problem.
Whether with another human or with an animal, relationships can reach new levels of understanding and intimacy only when we learn to listen for the real message behind the behavior rather than simply reacting to it ourselves. If your closest friend suddenly began yelling and punching you, how would you respond? I’d be shocked, and would definitely take care to keep myself safe. Depending on my experience with yelling and screaming people and this person in particular, I might wisely choose to leave, fearing that I will be hurt. If I don’t have trust in my friend and believe she must have good reason for acting this way, I might take her behavior very personally and react emotionally, yelling back and maybe taking a swing or two myself. My reaction does nothing to resolve the situation—reactions rarely resolve anything but can keep us alive in a threatening moment, which is precisely what they were designed to do. When she installed the fight-or-flight response, Mother Nature did not intend this as a mechanism by which deep, intimate relationships might be developed; she was just making sure that we’d live long enough to enjoy such connections. It’s a good basic rule that if you’re reacting, you’re not connecting.
My reaction does not arise from a compassionate interest in understanding why my friend might be acting this way; it is simply based on the fear or anger her behavior has now generated within me. This creates a vicious circle of reaction: yelling and punching (prompted by a yet-undetermined internal state in my friend), met by my reaction (prompted by my fear, which leads me to yell and punch), which is in turn met by yet another reaction (my friend is now reacting to my yelling and punching as well as the original, underlying cause). This vicious cycle is characteristic of immature human relationships, but sadly typical of animal/human relationships as well. If I am mature enough to understand that not all behavior directed at me is about me, I am then in an even better place to carefully search for the real message
behind the behavior.
This book cannot and does not address specific treatments or resolutions for aggressive behavior. What it intends to do is place aggressive behavior within the context of the dog/human relationship and open the reader’s mind (and heart) to the understanding of aggression as communication. I also intend to raise the caution flag in every reader’s head—any aggressive behavior is a warning that needs to be heeded and given careful consideration. Even in the best of cases where there is no real problem except that we have misinterpreted a dog’s innocent behavior as aggressive, this is a sign that the relationship is not built on deep, intimate understanding; we need to know more so that we can accurately understand what our dogs have to say. Aggressive behavior may be a warning that something is terribly wrong in the relationship, a warning that we need to rebalance the relative status between ourselves and our dogs and provide clear, fair leadership. Aggression may also warn us that something is wrong within the dog, that he is experiencing fear or anxiety or pain and that he needs our help. In a loving relationship, we cannot turn away from such warnings; we must respond, hopefully from a deep desire to resolve whatever troubles the waters, and—at the very least—from a recognition that in taking a dog into our lives, we have accepted the responsibility to answer his needs.
Quite understandably, within the context of our relationships with dogs, we tend to take things rather personally. It’s one thing to read an academic discussion of aggression; it’s something else altogether when our dog growls at us. We are rarely grateful for this communication. “Well, my goodness, Jethro. Thank you for that timely comment on my behavior or gestures, which may have threatened you in some way. I shall examine what I may have done to provoke that and study on how best to resolve this matter. I deeply appreciate your growl, which I understand is your attempt to resolve the perceived conflict between you and me.” When we learn to value the communication behind a dog’s growl or snarl or snap, we move closer to an understanding of that dog and, quite often, an understanding of ourselves.