Dog Sense

by John Bradshaw

  Although some pit bulls are unarguably dangerous, many are not. Granted, in 1986, pit bulls were responsible for seven out of eleven fatal dog attacks in the United States, making this breed at least thirty times more likely to have bitten than any other breed. However, none of these seven were breed-club-registered animals, so it was impossible to quantify the effect of their ancestry on their aggression. Furthermore, it is likely that the way their owners had treated them, and especially the way they had trained them, had made the major contribution to their extreme aggression. Despite their fearsome reputation, the vast majority of the 1–2 million pit bulls in the United States at that time had probably never bitten anyone.

  The connection between breed/personality and actual biting incidents is imprecise at best, even if one accepts that some breeds are genetically predisposed to be more likely to be aggressive than others or that there is such a thing as an aggressive personality trait in dogs. Even within so-called aggressive breeds, the dogs who actually attack are extreme outliers. Moreover, the reasons for their extreme behavior are rarely investigated thoroughly—most of these dogs are simply destroyed.

  In short, there is no direct evidence that breed differences in aggression have much to do with genetics. On the one hand, a very high percentage of individual dogs in any breed, including those held to be the most “dangerous,” are not involved in attacks (see Table 10.1); on the other hand, the circumstances under which dogs express aggression are highly modifiable by each individual dog’s experiences, including but not limited to training. Indeed, none of the statistics on dog attacks distinguish between the “genetic” hypothesis on which the legislation is based, and the possibility that some breeds are much more likely to be kept by irresponsible owners.

  By contrast, genetic factors are much more evident in the inherent aggressiveness of wolf hybrids, or “wolfdogs.” Potentially more dangerous to their owners and the public than pit bulls and other fighting dogs, these hybrids between wolves and dogs have achieved cult status over the past quarter-century—especially in the United States, where there may be as many as half a million of them. Wolves and dogs are adapted to such different environments that such extreme outbreeding was certain to produce animals that fit neither the wild niche nor the domestic one—and, indeed, wolfdogs are renowned for the unpredictability of their behavior.

  TABLE 10.1 Numbers of Dogs Involved in Attacks on People and Dogs in New South Wales, Australia, in 2004–200516

  Breed Number (as registered) Percent of breed

  German shepherd 63 0.2

  Rottweiler 58 0.2

  Australian cattle dog (“Kelpie”) 59 0.2

  Staffordshire bull terrier 41 0.1

  American pit bull terrier 33 1.0

  Others 619

  Wolfdogs have been held responsible for a disproportionate number of attacks on humans; for example, in the United States between 1989 and 1994 they were believed to be accountable for more human fatalities (twelve) than pit bulls (ten). There appear to be two distinct motivations behind such attacks. Some seem to stem from challenges over resources, as when a person tries to remove a wolfdog’s food. Other attacks seem to stem from the wolfdogs’ perception of humans (especially children) as potential prey items, at which point they appear to express their full range of predatory behavior right through to the kill. Accordingly, the Humane Society of the United States, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the Ottawa Humane Society, the Dogs Trust, and the Wolf Specialist Group of the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Species Survival Commission all consider wolfdogs to be wild animals and therefore unsuitable as pets. Although the way that a wolfdog is kept will undoubtedly affect whether it is dangerous or not, the wolf-type genes that it carries are undoubtedly the major influence on its behavior.

  But apart from these hybrids, the lack of any firm genetic basis for much “dangerous dogs” legislation makes it unfair to dogs. On top of this, the slow-grinding machinery of the legal system can mean that enforcement of such legislation will make a bad situation considerably worse for dogs “arrested” for biting. Most of these dogs are housed in kennels for months or even years while they wait for the courts to decide their fate, making retraining and rehabilitation all the more difficult or even impossible.

  Aggressive dogs are clearly an issue of public importance, yet paradoxically they may not be the greatest threat to dog welfare that has been posed by selective breeding. Whenever dogs are selected for special aspects of behavior, there is a risk, as yet only dimly perceived, that they might suffer. This is because the choices that animals frequently have to make between one response to a situation and another are often driven by emotion. Natural selection keeps these connections functional. A wolf that is hyper-anxious or fearful or angry—or in puppyhood was overattached to its mother—would be handicapped in its relationships with other wolves and thus unlikely to become the breeder in a pack. Breeding dogs for specific behaviors has the potential to distort such checks and balances inherited from their wild ancestors. How do collies feel when they’re unable to chase something? Wolves would not be bothered, because they feel an acute need to chase only when they are hungry. But in the collies the connections between chasing, hunting, and hunger must have been broken; otherwise, we could not get them to work safely with sheep. Since these connections have been broken, can we be sure that collies do not perpetually feel a need to chase something? The ease with which they become frustrated when not allowed to work, to the point of displaying stereotypical repetitive behavior, suggests that this is entirely possible. Equally, it is plausible that protection dogs, bred and trained to have heightened sensitivity to challenges, feel anxious and/or angry much of the time, without necessarily displaying any outward signs of these emotions. If such distortions of dogs’ natural checks and balances are widespread, and the breed-specificity of many behavioral disorders suggests they are, then all breeders, not just show breeders, need to examine what they are doing.

  Indeed, if dogs are to continue to remain popular as pets, they need some focused selection for the specific qualities that make them rewarding companions; it is no longer enough to put these in third place, after external appearance and behavioral traits that reflect the original working role. Selection for such traits may be complex, but is achievable, as evidenced by the many dogs who (perhaps more by accident than design) comfortably fit into this niche today.

  Prospective owners, however, often select dogs more by appearance than by personality. Perhaps if dogs were not so variable in appearance, thereby offering owners so much choice on the “outside,” more emphasis might be placed on the “inside.” Breed often determines how active a dog needs to be and, hence, whether that type of dog will suit the owner’s lifestyle. But personality and the likelihood that a lasting bond with the owner will develop are much less influenced by genetics than by environment, so owners would do well to focus on whether the environments in which the dogs were raised have given them the best possible start for life as pets.

  CHAPTER 11

  Dogs and the Future

  Dogs have been man’s best friend for thousands of years, and maybe that’s why we take them so much for granted. They have shown themselves to be supremely versatile, carrying out a vast range of tasks in addition to being rewarding social companions. But do they have the capacity to continue reinventing themselves, as human society changes ever more rapidly? Yes, but they’ll most likely need help along the way—help that canine science is ready to provide. Dogs and humans have gotten along pretty well so far without either completely understanding the other. As I see it, we humans—as the senior partners in this arrangement—must take primary responsibility for ensuring that the relationship continues effectively into the future. Indeed, we should be working to improve the understanding between humans and dogs, using the most up-to-date science, so that dogs can continue to live harmoniously alongside us.

  Dogs provide mankind with many benefits.
Not only do they continue to work for us in the old, traditional ways, but we are continually finding new roles for them—tasks for which their agility, intelligence, and ability to interact with the world are superior to our own. They also bring us the psychological benefits of companionship, providing relationships that complement those we have with members of our own species. Moreover, if we understand them properly, they can provide us with a fascinating glimpse into a different world, physically the same but perceived through different senses.

  Canine science has brought us rich new insights into dog’s uniqueness. Until about a hundred years ago, man’s understanding of dogs was no more than a branch of folk psychology, a tradition built up over thousands of years of trial and error. Science began to intrude toward the end of the nineteenth century, on two fronts: Several of the early comparative psychologists, Thorndike and Pavlov among them, used dogs as convenient experimental animals, while Victorian naturalists and zookeepers provided the first comparisons with the wolf. A further burst of activity in the mid-twentieth century—an exchange of ideas among wolf biologists, canine geneticists, and the first veterinarians to take an interest in behavior—led to the first systematic understanding of the socialization process, yet also contributed a misinterpretation of wolf behavior that has dogged canine biology ever since.

  Now, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, a new opportunity has arisen to integrate concepts pertaining to wolf and dog behavior, modern animal welfare science, and new knowledge about learning and cognition, thereby allowing us to update our understanding of dogs and how they would like us to care for them. As is always the case with science, this understanding will need constant revision in the light of new information; nevertheless, we know vastly more now than we did a hundred years ago about how to treat our canine companions. For one thing, dogs are canids but don’t behave much like wolves. Superficial comparisons between any wild animal and the dog, which is perhaps the ultimate domesticated animal, are rarely helpful. Secondly, dogs have a unique capacity to form attachments to humans, and it is to people that their primary allegiances are directed. But it is only the capacity to form such attachments that is inborn: These have to be nurtured, primarily during the first three to four months of the dog’s life. Thirdly, dogs’ sense of smell is much more sensitive than ours and should be respected as such, not simply exploited.

  These ideas are no-brainers; they are notions that any dog lover should find straightforward to accept, provided they have respect for the science that created them. As the scientific research becomes more widely disseminated through both academia and the mainstream media, they will be incorporated increasingly into the folk-psychology of dog-keeping.

  Dog training is one area in which the new canine science has met with strong resistance, to the point where some trainers and self-proclaimed “behavior experts” have openly and deliberately attacked the credentials of those trying to disseminate reliable, science-based information. The idea that the majority of dogs are continually trying to take over control of the households in which they live is proving very slow to die. So indeed is the use of physical punishment: Shock collars, already widely available in the United States, are catching on in some quarters in the United Kingdom.

  However, the situation is not simply one of punishment to prevent dominance versus rewards to encourage attachment. Indeed, some trainers decry the use of any kind of physical punishment, others see it only as a last resort, and still others consider it an essential and everyday part of the trainer’s armory. Disagreements over methods have sometimes spilled over into personal attacks. Those who decry physical punishment portray it as unnecessarily cruel, sometimes going so far as to suggest baser motives in those who use such techniques, accusing them of cruelty for cruelty’s sake.1 On the other side, some trainers accuse their opponents of actively promoting bad behavior in dogs.2

  All this polarization and recrimination may obscure the fact that there are still several humane methods for training dogs, though their relative effectiveness has yet to be evaluated. Although there are probably as many ways of conceiving how to train a dog as there are dog trainers, there appear to be four specific facets of dogs about which trainers and behavior experts disagree most vehemently.

  The first is whether or not to portray dogs as “pack animals.” Those supporting the “pack” notion often appear to use it as a wake-up call for owners who over-anthropomorphize their dogs, who treat them as little people. Since dogs are not little people and, indeed, can suffer if treated so, such reminders may be salutary if applied in moderation rather than to justify physical punishment.

  The second is an ethical and philosophical dimension related to welfare and well-being. Some trainers place no emphasis on the question of whether physical punishment will cause suffering, rationalizing it as an experience that the dog, as a barely reconstructed wolf, will expect to receive as part of its upbringing. At the opposite extreme are those trainers who abhor all forms of punishment, on the grounds that it will—by definition—cause suffering for the dog. Still others adopt a more moderate approach, maintaining that a certain amount of suffering can be balanced against the longer-term benefits that will accrue to the dog if it corrects its behavior. They regard physical punishment as a last-resort technique, justified only when the dog’s long-term well-being would otherwise be threatened.3 For example, some justify the use of shock collars to punish livestock-chasing, on the grounds that if dogs continued to engage in this behavior they would run the risk of being shot by a farmer, or euthanized. (Bear in mind that it is virtually impossible in any training regime to avoid all negative feelings in dogs; even just ignoring them when they’re performing an unwanted type of attention-seeking is likely to make them anxious.) Where these trainers may disagree is in how to balance the trade-off: suffering now versus benefit later.

  Thirdly, trainers make very different assumptions about dogs’ cognitive abilities. Paradoxically, perhaps, trainers who work within the dominance framework have to presume an almost Machiavellian level of canine intelligence: The dog needs to be very smart indeed, smart enough to hoodwink its owner and thereby attain “dominant” status in the household. In the other camp, reward-based pet dog trainers rely on quite straightforward associative learning, both because it works and because it’s easy for owners to understand how to implement it. Their methods tap into some of the most primitive parts of the dog’s brain; they essentially sidestep the issue of how smart dogs may or may not be, relying on learning methods that evolved many millions of years ago. The point here is not that reward-based trainers think dogs are dumb but, rather, that simple training methods are easier to teach to owners than complex ones are. Guide-dog training, for example, while reward-based, makes much fuller use of dogs’ cognitive abilities.4 But, ideally, all training could take advantage of these abilities—including, for example, the dogs’ capacity for social learning, which canine science is still in the process of revealing. Exploring such possibilities should be more profitable in the long run than pursuing ideas for which science has found no supporting evidence.

  Fourthly, some trainers—especially those who train gundogs, sheepdogs, and guard dogs—come from a tradition that portrays dogs primarily as tools. One method they advocate is to keep the dog in a kennel, away from what they view as excessive human influence. Others see the dog’s natural place as an integral part of human society and insist that training should serve, above all, to reinforce that bond, even if the dog also fulfills a function. For example, security services in the UK are currently divided over whether patrol dogs can be kept at the handler’s home or must be confined to kennels when off-duty. Given that such dogs need to be acutely attuned to people when they are working, it seems unlikely that this ability would be refined by long periods of isolation; moreover, no evidence has yet emerged that the kennel-housed dog is actually the more effective worker.

  The differences between various schools of dog training are thus much more complex
than the question of whether punishment is cruel or not, or whether or not trainers conceive of dogs as wolves. Their underlying philosophies and ethical standpoints are also different, so it is perhaps not surprising that they so often misunderstand, even misrepresent, one another. This is not helpful at a time when society expects dogs to be under the control of their owners to a greater extent than perhaps ever before.

  Discipline in the sense of control, not discipline in the sense of punishment, is what is needed. Clearly a dog is not going to learn how to behave well simply and solely because it is loved, even though I suspect that is what many owners would like to happen—and may even expect to happen. Today, as I went jogging in the park near my house on the first sunny day of the year, I encountered nine dogs being walked off-leash by their owners. Only one out of the nine responded immediately when their owners wanted to recall them. The others all caused mild embarrassment for their owners, bouncing up at children, chasing cyclists, getting in the way of walkers, trying to scrounge food from picnickers, and so on. Assuming this unrepresentative sample is typical, such behavior must contribute to giving dogs a bad name.