Dancing With Dogs and The Necessary Art Of Leading. by Jude Acosta
A while back the director of an animal control agency of a major city had received a call from a television station asking about a little girl who had been bitten and if they could do a story on dangerous dogs. As they collected some information, they discovered that the dog responsible for the attack was a smaller Cocker Spaniel mix and not the Rottweiler, Pit Bull, German Sheperd they expected or wanted. They effectively hung up the phone because the story didn't have any ratings potential.
What do we expect from dogs? We certainly seem to want them, even need them around. In New York City, there are 8 million people and almost 3 million dogs. We have trained them to be warriors. They fought alongside us from the time the Roman Legions used the Mastiff. We have bred them to love us and seek our laps for comfort, to hunt with us, dig for rats, chase down foxes, and protect our herds from wolves.
We leave our babies in their vigilant care, work with them to sniff out drugs in airports, soothe the elderly in nursing homes, and pull our rescue sleds. They are our best friends, our guardians, our playmates, and our healers.
Yet, we abuse them, vivisect them for experiments, or foolishly treat them as if they were stuffed dolls. We expect them to be as perfect as they are in Disney films, but they're just dogs. They're as messy, fidgety, needy, loud, and persistent as they are loving. And each one is an individual with its own genetic legacy, its own temperament and its own particular preferences.
I am walking my two 85-pound mixes, both rescues, down the street. Both are on lead, in heel position, one to the right, one to the left. Out of nowhere a beautiful chocolate Lab, easily 100 pounds of muscle and kinetic energy, comes lumbering out of his human's front yard. His tail is wagging, but when you know the language of dogs, you know instantly it is not play time. His chest is thrust forward, his eyes glaring and fixed on us.
I am caught off-guard and startled. I move to corral my dogs and get them across the street quickly without getting hit by a car. A woman, on the phone, comes after him, Oh, come here, boy, come, come. He doesn't listen to her. Why am I not surprised? My dogs react aggressively. They were as scared by his approach as I was. They bark, whine, try to lunge. I have them firmly, but every muscle in my arms, back, and shoulders is straining.
Frustrated, angry, we run across the street. The Lab is still and satisfied now, but my dogs are barking and agitated. Adrenaline still courses through my body. "Some dog you got there!" she yells across the street. Her dog charged us, her dog was off lead on a busy street, and she was angry that my dogs reacted.
I have only within the last several years had the joy and responsibility of living and working with dogs, but I am amazed at what I did not know and continually surprised by what other dog owners still do not know. Her dog didn't do anything wrong. He's just a dog and he was marking his protectorate. She let him off lead in an unfenced yard when his obedience to her was questionable.
Dogs are dogs. True, they are not wolves and do not have the knowledge to survive in the wild that wolves and coyotes do. But while they may be domesticated, they are still dogs. Their instincts are strong and, depending on the breed, may be more or less inclined to run after squirrels, be wary of children and strangers, or take aggressive stances against other dogs. When I first got involved with dogs and was truly ignorant, I thought all dogs liked all dogs. Lassie did. And that-along with the reputation of Golden Retrievers-was all I knew. When one of the dogs showed signs of dog aggression, one woman commented to me, "Figures you'd get the ONE dog that doesn't like other dogs." After spending a long time wondering what I was doing wrong, I discovered how misinformed she was. While many dogs are more tolerant of other dogs, many are not, unless they are socialized from infancy.
Some breeds were unfortunately singled out for warfare and protection. Chow-Chows were bred to guard the imperial family and later, were bred (God forgive us) for food. Only through radical intervention was the breed saved. Mastiffs, American and English Pit Bull Terriers and Bulldogs were bred for fighting. Bulldogs were so aggressive in Roman times, the emperor decreed that they were to be kept off the streets. Malamutes are naturally suspicious of strange dogs and will tend towards a dominant position. Akitas are highly territorial and devoted to only one master. But even the most timid breeds can take aggressive stances to protect their territories and their packs. Two delightfully social Papillons I know have decidedly varied tastes in other dogs and make their predilections quite clear.
That beautiful chocolate Lab was only doing what dogs are supposed to do. Even Labrador Retrievers have the instinct to stake out their territory, investigate intruders, and let the newcomers know who's boss. People think that Labs and Golden Retrievers are harmless. That is a mistake. In one survey, Retrievers were listed as the number one biter. In another survey, it was Cocker Spaniels.
Dogs are dogs. They don't fail us. We fail them. We fail in our expectations, which are largely unrealistic. We fail in our inconsistency and neglect, leaving them alone for hours and hours at a time, when they are highly social creatures. We fail by forgetting to train them, leaving them off lead, then getting angry when they don't come to us on command.
When people let their dogs off lead in a public place, I sometimes wonder out loud, Do you love your dog? They inevitably answer, Oh, but he's friendly. And then I have to say, But did you know whether my dog was friendly?
As it turns out, many dogs are not friendly. One woman who owned an Akita described what it was like to walk her dog in Brooklyn Heights. There was this French couple who refused to put their poodle on a leash. I used to beg them, argue with them, threaten them. It didn't matter. They felt their dog should be "free." Well, it was certainly free when it ran up to my dog, surprising her, and then wound up in her jaws. I was able to get her out, thankfully, but that poor dog should never have been put in that position.
Worse were the glares and recriminations she received as if her dog (or she) had done something wrong. What did they expect from a female Akita?
J. Acosta is a writer and practicing clinical psychotherapist. She has written two books: THE WORST IS OVER (2002, Jodere) and THE NEXT OSAMA (2006). Her third is due to come out some time next year and she is currently in the middle of her fourth.
She has her practice in New Mexico with her canine therapeutic assistants. She has worked with anxiety and fear in patients for twenty years. She has watched it, felt it, wrote about it, and helped heal people from it. As a result, she has learned a few things about fear, particularly that growing epidemic she calls VIRAL FEAR.
