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

by Suzanne Clothier

  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 them 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. The conflict between human and dog occurs when we don't realize that what we consider loving acts of

  caretaking may be interpreted by the dog as deference to him and our agreement that he is the one in control of resources. We intend to send the message "You are loved and cared for, your needs will be met." The dog may hear "Your wish is my command." It takes no imagination or even an understanding of dogs to see how quickly this can become a serious problem. A message that twists in the space between speaker and listener is always problematic, particularly when we do not take care to note whether the message that lands is shaped precisely as it was when it left our lips. As we discussed all this, Mary Anne was surprised to learn how different Opal's canine perspective was from her own. She understood how Opal might have come to the wrong conclusion, but frowning, she said, "What I don't understand is this. All my life, I've had dogs, many of them dogs I rescued from the local shelter, and I've treated all of them just like I've treated Opal. None of them ever growled at me or seemed to think they were in charge. I see your point, but it doesn't make sense when I look at all the dogs I've had." Mary Anne's conclusion was understandable and quite common. A woman I dealt with at a seminar had a similar response based on her experience. She'd had Cocker Spaniels her entire life, had treated them all with the same approach and had never had anything but compliant, well-mannered dogs who were a delight-until her last dog, a hotshot puppy she had chosen specifically as her next competition dog because of his gung ho attitude and athletic ability. This dog had both delighted her with his lightning-fast mind and dismayed her with his often- problematic behavior. When I pointed out that Mr. HotShot needed a more crisply defined leadership, she found that hard to swallow-her particular style of leadership had been very successful for a long time with many other dogs.

  What Mary Anne and the Cocker Spaniel lover were overlooking is that while a dog is a dog is a dog, every dog is a different dog. Anyone who has raised more than one child or had more than one meaningful friendship understands that successful relationships of any kind require that we adapt our particular style to the needs and responses of the other. To stand rigidly in our preferred patterns and insist that all others bend to suit us is hardly an

  effective approach in any relationship. To then blame the other when conflicts arise is selfishness of a very high order, and denies the importance of the other's needs. Within a loving relationship, even when we are in a leadership role (perhaps especially in that case), we must always consider what the other's behavior tells us about our own. The bottom line for the Cocker's owner was that the approach that had worked beautifully with a twenty-year lineup of Cocker Spaniels was evidently not sufficient leadership for a particularly bold, confident pup. Mary Anne's previous dogs may not have been as assured as Opal, and possibly not even interested in being a high- ranking dog. Contrary to popular belief, not all dogs are alpha wannabes just waiting for the humans to slip up so they can take over the household if not the country and perhaps the world. What all dogs are willing to do is shape their world as best they can to suit them. The Cocker lover's previous dogs may have thought their world was just dandy, so going with the flow was pleasant and easy. If life is good, why rock the boat? (as politicians know, a well-fed and entertained citizenry rarely causes problems.) For whatever reason-different experience or personalities- Mary Anne's other dogs evidently had been happy to go along with her gentle style. Opal, on the other hand saw the world differently and was comfortable in a high-status role. Her particular personality was actually quite strong and assured-rude dogs she encountered received little more than a haughty stare, and people she did not care for she dismissed by looking through and not at them, as if they did not even exist. It's fair to say that her personality was one that was more sensitive and alert to nuances of leadership. From Opal's point of view, Mary Anne's attentive care to her every need had shown that Mary Anne was very trainable and compliant; in other words, lower-status. This has nothing to do with love-Opal clearly
loved Mary Anne and vice versa. But love and leadership are two different issues in a dog's mind, and loving though she was, Opal was setting rules about the couch. Resolving the problem required that Mary Anne establish in Opal's mind that she was worthy of the hound's respect. "Am I going to have to yell at her or jerk her around? Because I'm not going to do that,"

  Mary Anne warned me. She was relieved to know that the most effective techniques were also humane, nonpunitive and nonconfrontational. As Opal had already demonstrated, in situations where respect for a person is limited, any confrontation or use of force may be perceived by the dog as an attack by a subordinate and may result in a completely canine response. Earning a dog's respect can be accomplished by making it clear that the valued resources come through you-and only after a doggy "please" has been heard. When a dog walks directly to us and places his ball or toy in our lap, he is saying "Play with me." And he's not including any form of "please." Envision your dog as a rude child who walks up, slams a board game down in front of us and demands that you play with them- now. We would find such behavior unacceptable, and to remind the child that there are more appropriate and respectful ways of interacting with others, we might set conditions: "I'll play with you after you've taken out the garbage." Or, "You may leave the room, and come back and try asking me again, but this time in a nice way, with "please" and "thank you" included." Even young children can learn not to just point at something and expect it to be handed to them; wise parents teach children to say "please" as a condition for cooperating with their requests. Person or pup, politeness counts. For example, a low-status dog who wishes to engage a higher-status dog in play needs to offer deferential behaviors while shaping the request to come play. Play bows, licking at the mouth, lowered body posture, groveling-all these are gestures of great respect and deference, and to the canine mind, part and parcel of a polite conversation. If we fail to keep our end of the bargain by acting like a high-status animal who will insist on politeness, then the dog may interpret our response to his request as proof that his status is greater than ours. And we really don't have a right to be shocked if our dogs tell us that we've been acting like lowly puppies unworthy of their respect.

  Mary Anne had already taught Opal to sit and lie down on command, so these basics were going to be the dog's way of saying "please." At mealtimes or

  when giving out a treat, Mary Anne would ask Opal to sit or lie down (both of which she already knew how to do), giving the dog perhaps three seconds to comply. If Opal ignored her, Mary Anne would put the bowl back on the counter and turn away for five or ten seconds, then try again. If after three requests the dog was still ignoring her, Mary Anne would put the food in a cabinet or the refrigerator and leave the kitchen without saying a word, and go read a book or stare out the window for a few minutes. Then she'd try again. Only when Opal sat or lay down within the desired time frame would Mary Anne deliver the food. A similar routine was instituted for going outside. Opal would have to sit or lie down before the door was opened. Petting, no matter how winningly solicited, would happen only after Opal sat or lay down as requested, and was to be kept quite brief Mary Anne was quick to point out that this was going to be very difficult, as it is for many owners. She was relieved to know that once she had earned Opal's respect and shifted die balance of power in the house, such restricted petting might no longer be necessary. But it was critical to helping Opal see Mary Anne in a new light. As time went on, Mary Anne would gradually begin to expect Opal to respond promptly to the first request and do more than just sit in order to earn attention. The second part of the program was teaching Opal to get on and off furniture on request. Armed with some tasty treats, we began working on this in my living room. I offered Opal a treat or two to be sure she knew what delicious goodies I had to offer. Stepping away from the couch where Opal had curled up beside me while Mary Anne and I talked, I called the dog to me, rewarding her with several treats and praise. I stepped back to the couch and, patting the cushions, invited Opal to "get comfy" (a phrase chosen by Mary Anne.) Opal hopped up, and giving her a treat, I told her with enthusiasm what a genius she was. Showing her a treat, I tossed it on the floor, and as she prepared to get off the couch, I told her, "Off." Back and forth we went, practicing what "get comfy" and "off" meant. Opal found this a very agreeable game, and soon was hopping off at a quiet request in anticipation of a reward. After a brief rest for Opal and a review of the technique for Mary Anne, it

  was Mary Anne's turn to work with her dog. To her delight, Opal was as responsive and eager to cooperate as she had been with me. "Why does this work so well?" she asked as she and Opal settled down for a break. "Is it just because she knows this isn't her couch?" The difference was not the particular couch, but the dog's emotional state. In my living room, Opal was relaxed, did not feel threatened and was thus in a pleasant state of mind. When Mary Anne had stepped into the living room at home, the dog had warned her to back off. At that point, a possible confrontation was brewing in Opal's mind. Mary Anne's initial attempt to simply force Opal off the couch, however gently, had just increased the dog's arousal. Believing herself to be the top- ranking dog, Opal had viewed Mary Anne's action as one of insubordination and had dealt with this in a very canine way: more dramatic growling and a warning snap. In my living room, nothing had happened to shift Opal from a relaxed state of mind. If I had felt the need to show Opal who was boss by forcibly removing her from the couch, the situation could have changed very quickly. From Opal's point of view, she was not getting off the couch because I was "making" her; she was voluntarily moving in order to get to the treat I had tossed on the floor. In any training situation (in fact, in any relationship) gaining voluntary cooperation neatly sidesteps challenges to status. If the queen of England agrees to play checkers with you, her agreement makes status unimportant. But if you're going to try to force the queen of England to play with you, you'd best be someone she takes directives from with a smile. The underlying problem that created the whole couch incident was one of leadership and status; challenging a dog's status does not resolve the underlying problem, which needs to be addressed more universally. No threat perceived, no confrontation brewing, no challenges to her status, so Opal remained calm, cooperative and enjoyed the interaction. Opal was relaxed and interested in this "game," not defending a valuable resource. At home, Mary Anne would not wait until Opal was on the couch and already in a defensive, confrontational mood, but deliberately take the dog into the living room to play the "get comfystoff" game, and do this quite a few times each day. Finding ways to carefully and gently

  revisit areas where emotions can run high is far more pro ductive than a head-on confrontation during moments of great intensity. Identifying what the problem is allows us to step back and find a more loving, compassionate approach to working toward a resolution that suits all involved without hurt feelings or wounded pride. Like many dogs, Opal was not being a bad dog. She was simply being a dog, responding to what she believed to be the rules and power structure in the household. Changing the rules and shifting the balance of power to a more appropriate one where Mary Anne and all other humans had higher status than Opal was going to take some time. But Mary Anne was willing to do what was necessary, and she welcomed a chance to work in nonconfrontational ways that would keep her safe while also earning Opal's respect. In the weeks that followed, faced with new rules, Opal found herself in some disconcerting situations. The first time Opal flatly ignored a third request to lie down before getting her meal, Mary Anne put her food bowl in the refrigerator and walked away. Opal was dumbfounded. She walked after Mary Anne, nudging her as if to say, "Excuse me? Did you forget something?" As planned, Mary Anne calmly ignored Opal for a few minutes before giving her another chance. This time, Mary Anne's request was met with a prompt response and a distinct look of relief when Opal was given her food. After a month of persistently and consistently applied new rules, Opal and Mary Anne had rebalanced their relationship in a more appropriate way, with Mary An
ne acting much more like someone worthy of a dog's respect. Though still the luxury loving hound, Opal no longer viewed the couch as hers, and at a quiet request, would leave when anyone asked. Opal and Mary Anne had work to do before they could find a comfortable balance in their relationship. There was a period of discomfort, one that is typical of relationships where problem areas have been highlighted and are the focus of attention and energy. Mary Anne reported that initially a great deal of what she did with Opal felt artificial. Although her previous approach had felt more "natural" to Mary Anne, Opal's behavior had pointed unmistakably to the fact that it was not an approach that worked for the dog. I

  encouraged Mary Anne to think of her feelings of awkwardness as akin to learning a new dance-at first, the steps feel strange, unfamiliar and moving smoothly is not possible. But with time and practice, your feet learn just where to go without the need for forced attention to the steps; then the joy of the dance returns. Despite feeling faintly false, Mary Anne persisted, encouraged by how much better she felt about Opal and their relationship. Beyond her own growing satisfaction with the connection that this approach made possible, she also watched Opal for confirmation that this new approach was working for the dog as well. After all, no matter what a trainer or a book or a veterinarian or any other source of advice might say, the final arbiters of whether or not an approach is working have to be the two involved in the relationship.