Bones Would Rain from the Sky: Deepening Our Relationships with Dogs (28 page)

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