Bones Would Rain from the Sky

by Suzanne Clothier

  THE BEIGE RUG SYNDROME

  Try this sometime: Rush into a crowded room and announce that no one, and you mean no one, is to touch the jellied calves’ brains on the kitchen counter. (Humans only—dogs will be dashing off to check it out.) What you’ll get is happy agreement that yes indeed, the calves’ brains are safe. Tell the same crowd that there are thousand-dollar bills, the keys to new cars and also a lot of Belgian chocolate all stacked knee-deep in the kitchen, and you may find they require a bit more convincing to leave it all untouched. Why? Because cash and cars and chocolate probably matter to them, and jellied calves’ brains probably do not.

  Tell a dog to sit in the middle of the kitchen on a quiet afternoon, and you’ll most likely get compliance. Ask that same dog to sit while cats dash past or other dogs are playing or when there’s a knock at the door, and you may find it’s quite a different story. If we cannot control the dog in situations of great importance to him, we may find ourselves in deep trouble when the food-crazy dog mugs the neighbor’s toddler for a graham cracker or chases a bicyclist or attacks a visitor. Despite Buddy’s love of food, we need to be able to tell the dog to leave the toddler’s snack alone. No matter how thrilling the chase may be, Giselle needs to watch quietly (though perhaps with wagging tail and a gleam in her eye) as the Tour de France zooms past. And regardless of what Fluffy thinks of Uncle Dominick’s aftershave, the dog needs to take his cues as to who is and is not a welcome guest from you. The more important something is to the dog, the more important it may be that we have the dog’s respect, that we have earned the right to control the dog’s behavior or impulses. If something is important to the dog, he’s going to be willing to push for it; it’s easy to control anyone’s behavior if they don’t care about something.

  Unfortunately, we sometimes respond to and attempt to direct only the behaviors that infringe on what we consider important or just important at that moment. We might ignore a dog who jumps on us when we are wearing old jeans and a T-shirt, but suddenly consider that behavior worthy of our full attention if we are wearing an expensive suit. We forget that the dog is carefully taking notes on our response to what he considers important as well as noting what appears (based on our behavior) to be important to us. This can lead to some interesting situations. Dog trainers the world over are familiar with (although sometimes helpless in the face of) the Beige Rug Syndrome.

  Those dog owners suffering from this particular syndrome inevitably have (a) an expensive, and usually fairly new, beige rug; and (b) a dog that they cannot control in many settings. Despite their inability to walk the dog down the street without incident or control him when guests appear, there is one guarantee—the dog has been taught to never, ever, for any reason, set foot on the beige rug. Students would earnestly assure me that their dog unfailingly abided by this rule, but I didn’t believe that anyone with so little ability to direct a dog’s behavior could actually have achieved this. One day, visiting a student for an in-home consultation, I watched in amazement as we strolled into the living room (where the beige rug was) and the dog stopped dead in his tracks as if an invisible force field barred him from the room. Bemused, since the woman’s chief complaint was that she didn’t seem to be able to control her dog, I asked how she had managed to teach her dog to stay off the rug.

  “Oh that?” She airily waved her hand. “It was easy. First I blocked him from even getting in there, and then I’d leave the gate open only when I was around to watch him. After a while, I could sit in here and we’d practice having him stay out there. Every time he even thought about it, I just warned him to get out. I’ve saved up a long time for this rug, and while I love my dog, he’s got the rest of the house to be with us. I don’t want his muddy feet or dog hair in this room.” It really mattered to her that the rug stay clean, and so she was willing to work diligently, ever alert to even a vague hint that the dog was headed that way. I asked if she waited till he was actually on the rug before she acted. “Oh, no. I could see if he was just thinking about it, and that’s when I’d remind him or tell him no.”

  She was amazed when I pointed out that she had proven herself to be a very good dog trainer by (a) dealing with intent and not the actual action whenever possible; (b) setting rules that she absolutely reinforced no matter how much the dog wanted to be in the living room and no matter what else she was doing; (c) creating a situation where the dog could not make a mistake (putting up a gate) when she could not supervise him; and (d) deliberately training him while she could and would keep a close eye on him. I pointed out that if she applied those same successful techniques to everything else she tried to teach him, she’d probably do very well indeed. “You mean, treat everything he does like it’s really important that he learn it, like staying off the rug?” I nodded and she grew thoughtful. “Well, that makes a lot of sense!” She and her dog went on to have a very nice relationship.

  Unfortunately for our dogs, they often receive mixed or inadvertent messages about their own status, and ours relative to them. How then do you know if your dog is simply well loved and indulged but not dangerously misinformed about his status? A quick gauge of how the dog may be interpreting your behavior can be had in the answer to one simple question: When there’s a conflict (either between you and the dog or something external to the relationship), will your dog accept your direction and control of his behavior? It doesn’t matter how beautifully the dog responds to commands or behaves in peaceful moments. What counts is the dog’s willingness to accept direction from you when he sees the situation as important—in other words, when canine protocol says that a high-status family member should be the one to make the decisions.

  If you make a list of the situations in which you find your dog’s behavior frustrating, embarrassing or uncontrollable, you will also have created the list of situations the dog finds very important to him. This does not always mean that such situations are ones the dog finds pleasurable, but rather that in those settings, the dog is highly aroused, whether that’s feeling protective, angry, irritated, excited, anxious, afraid, defensive, predatory, ecstatic or in pain. At these “important” times, the dog most desperately needs clear leadership and guidance, just as the people you love need you most not in the easy and peaceful times but when the currents of complex, perhaps overwhelming emotions make it difficult to keep their heads clear. But the level of trust in a relationship that allows us to step in and provide guidance and support and direction must preexist the moment of crisis. If you’ve not established this relationship in various and sundry ways in everyday life and in less critical circumstances, chances are better than good the dog will disregard your attempts to control or direct his behavior.

  PUT DOWN THAT PICKLED OKRA!

  Much training advice deals with controlling the dog’s resources as a way of establishing leadership. At its core, this is sound advice. Among dogs, the privilege of high status is evidenced in access to and control of resources. What exactly is a resource? Ask me, and I might say pickled okra. The mere thought of the stuff makes most folks gag, but there are those among us who love it. I’m one of the few, the strange, the okra lovers. When a Southern friend sent me a case of pickled okra, I opened it with glee and then snarled at my husband, “This is mine.” Throwing up his hands and backing away from the box, John was quick to assure me that if I fell off the face of the Earth that night, he’d not touch my pickled okra. It’s not a matter of how deeply he respects me, or how much he wishes to avoid any confrontation—after all, nothing short of absolute blissful harmony is the key to our marriage. (Yep, just like the flying green pigs that are the hallmark of our farm.) His assurance was based on this little fact: He hates pickled okra. While I view it as a valuable resource to be guarded, he has no interest in it at all.

  Obvious resources are food, toys, bones, chews (pig ears, cow hooves, rawhides, etc.), treats, even water—or the expectation of any of these. A dog may guard an empty food bowl not because he’s hallucinating that it’s filled with foo
d, but because the bowl represents an expectation of food. Visitors to our house who don’t know that a certain cabinet contains dog treats are startled to find many large dogs jostling each other for position when that cabinet is opened. To the dogs, the cabinet represents an expectation of treats. Although it also contains the potatoes and onions and other nondog items that the guest was actually seeking, the dogs know that each time that cabinet is opened, there is the potential for treats. Thus, being nearest the cabinet and the person opening it serves as a resource for our dogs, just as an empty food bowl may be viewed by other dogs as a valuable resource. Less-obvious resources may be attention, access in or out of the home or certain rooms, sleeping areas (whether dog beds or the human bed), freedom, solitude, perches (either in laps or on furniture) or viewpoints (such as a window or door), specific furniture, proximity to a person or activity, a particular position near a door, fence or gate.

  Blanket statements about what constitutes a resource ignore the importance of understanding each dog as an individual. What one dog finds valuable may be of no interest whatsoever to another dog or to a person. Like beauty, a resource is only a resource in the eyes of the beholder. I once sold a puppy named Ellie to a woman who had a beautifully appointed home full of fine antiques and collectibles. As is my habit, I tucked in something familiar and comfortable from home alongside the food, toys and papers that accompany any puppy. In this case, I grabbed an old mattress cover that the puppies had been sleeping on. Though torn and stained, it was clean, and perfect puppy bedding, soft and warm but only a few uses away from a one-way trip to the dump. It would, I figured, ease Ellie’s transition from our home to her new life. Unfortunately, Ellie’s owner and I underestimated how attached the puppy would become to her “blankie.”

  At first, her owner didn’t mind, keeping the mattress cover in the puppy’s crate, thinking that eventually she’d discard it and replace it with something more attractive. One night, she dragged the tattered cover out and replaced it with an expensive, thick pad. Ellie considered this with interest, and then, picking up her beloved puppyhood blankie, dragged it onto the beautiful new pad. Every time her owner tried to discard the weary mattress cover, Ellie fretted and paced and hunted down the garbage bag or can where it had been tossed, and, relenting, her owner would return Ellie’s treasured blankie to her. It became an embarrassment when she was entertaining guests. At a certain point in the party, her lovely dog would trot upstairs and reappear, proudly dragging behind her for presentation to the bemused guests her most beloved treasure: the sad skeleton of a very elderly mattress pad. In the end, the woman found a way to make both herself and her dog happy with a splendid bed custom-made for Ellie. Though beautiful on the outside, it suited Ellie just fine—tucked inside it was her beloved blankie.

  I now send puppies home with items that offer a more timeless appeal than a grubby mattress pad, but when I think of what may constitute a valuable resource for any dog, I remember Ellie and her blankie. To understand our dogs, we need to step into their world and understand what they consider valuable and important resources. If the balance of power has gone askew between human and dog, an understanding of what constitutes valuable resources for the dog enables us to wisely use their value to help us earn the dog’s respect and restore a healthier balance to the relationship.

  The problem with dogs and resources is not how much access the dog has to things he finds enjoyable or pleasant. Sleeping in bed, hopping up on the furniture, having a wealth of toys and bones and chewies, being petted, and so on—none of these resources cause a dog to lose his mind or become a canine Napoleon. Like so much of dog training, we’re looking at the wrong end of the leash. (Maybe what the world needs is a bumper sticker that reminds us “Toys don’t spoil puppies. People spoil puppies.”) The important question is this: Do you have access, free and uncontested, to anything that the dog considers a resource? When a dog begins to set rules about resources, this is an unmistakable sign that your leadership may be lacking in some way. And it is a sign that should be taken very, very seriously, because having set rules, a dog will enforce them in very canine ways, just as he would with another dog: with growls, snarls, snaps and even bites.

  MINE, ALL MINE

  My friend Kathryn called one night to pick my brain about a brewing problem between her two dogs. Though they lived quite peacefully together most of the time, Meiske, an elderly but still feisty mixed breed, had begun snarling at Flink, a younger, very active Kelpie, an Australian herding breed. When Kathryn was cooking, Meiske stationed herself between the kitchen door and Kathryn’s work area. Kathryn’s house is quite small, so from that position, Meiske was no farther than five feet from Kathryn or the door, allowing her to keep an eye on any tidbits that might be tossed her way and to effectively block Flink from entering the room. Initially, Meiske had simply crowded near Kathryn, growling at Flink only if he tried to move closer. As time went on, Meiske began making new rules, eventually insisting that Flink not even set foot in the kitchen. Flink was torn between his respect for Meiske and his desire to be near Kathryn and the food, but Meiske’s persistence and consistency paid off; he waited in the next room.

  Kathryn could not understand what was happening between these two dogs who had lived peacefully together since Flink’s arrival as a pup several years before. Was there some shift in the pack order? she wondered. Was this a dominance issue? Was Flink somehow challenging Meiske in ways Kathryn could not detect? Of considerable concern was the age and size difference. Though she found it hard to believe that the problem could escalate to a serious fight and injuries, Kathryn knew that if Meiske attacked Flink, the younger, stronger dog was easily capable of hurting the old girl or maybe even killing her.

  Hoping for some insight from me into these dog-to-dog interactions, she was quite surprised when my answer was that instead of examining her dogs’ behavior, she needed to look to her own. Specifically, she needed to start acting like a leader. As a leader, she needed to remind Meiske that while being in the kitchen was a valuable resource, it wasn’t a resource that was Meiske’s to defend. (A human parallel might be two children squabbling over their dad’s wallet. It doesn’t matter which kid sets the rules or what they are: “You can’t hold it, you can only touch it.” The real story comes clear when Dad walks in and claims his wallet. Neither child has the right to control that particular asset.) This was something that Kathryn, as the high-status family member, controlled; access to resources was strictly at her discretion, not the dogs’. The solution was quite simple. Anytime Meiske acted in ways that indicated she was the one who controlled a particular resource, Kathryn was to gently but unmistakably show the dog that she was not the one entitled to make those rules.

  When Meiske growled at Flink in the kitchen, she was quietly escorted from the kitchen. Naturally, Meiske viewed this as a temporary blip in Kathryn’s mind and tried to reenter the kitchen many times. Each time, Kathryn made it clear that she was not welcome. A bit disgruntled and bewildered by these new rules, Meiske eventually got the message and lay quietly watching from the doorway. In this subtle, nonconfrontational way, Kathryn could clearly communicate in a way that Meiske could understand: “My kitchen. Not yours. Dogs enter here because I say they can.” Though not thrilled with this new development, Meiske watched from outside as Flink made himself comfortable in the kitchen. After a few minutes of this, Kathryn called Meiske into the kitchen, asking her to sit, which the dog happily did. She gave each dog a treat, patted them briefly and turned to her cooking. For a few minutes, peace reigned, but then, as Flink moved to settle himself nearer to Kathryn, a growl was heard. Calmly, Kathryn escorted Meiske from the room, and the whole cycle began again.

  In just one evening of consistency from Kathryn, Meiske understood that as much as she valued being in the kitchen with Kathryn, she was not the one who set the rules about this resource. In fact, if she acted in anything but tolerant ways that included Flink, the resource she valued so much was unavailabl
e to her. Without raising her voice, without having to use any physical force, Kathryn made her point in a way that made perfect sense to the dog. And Meiske demonstrated that this was understood and valid for her. (Had it not made sense, Meiske’s behavior would not have shifted and might even have gotten worse, a common canine response to being confused by unclear or invalid messages.) The message was clear: Not yours. Mine. And importantly, mine to share with you if you act in ways I find acceptable. Sharing a resource with a lower-status animal is typical only of very high ranking animals.

  While initially Kathryn felt like many owners—uncomfortable with such an approach, feeling that it smacked of dictatorship and perhaps even an ugly level of control—she learned to let the dogs tell her whether or not this approach was one that made sense to them. When we let our emotional interpretations of our actions override the reality of what the dog’s behavior tells us is working (or not working) for him, we have stepped out of a relationship and into something that exists only in our own minds. Most of us, at one time or another, have been in human relationships where another person refused to see or understand our behavior and instead assigned their own interpretation or value system to the situation. It is maddening at best, and at some level is an act of self-centeredness that neatly excludes us and shapes the world according to the other’s beliefs.

  LET’S MAKE A TRADE!

  While high status is revealed in the control or access to resources and in leadership activities, guarding food or other possessions is a slightly different story. Here an understanding of canine culture and “dog law” is important to keep us from making mistakes we do not intend to make.