The Dog Listener

by Jan Fennell

  Like so many of my clients, Steve and Debbie were genuinely determined to address the problem and agreed to go ahead as I explained. Meg, of course, was agitated in the extreme. Her eyes were glaring at me, almost out on stalks. She was pacing up and down, letting out this low grumble; she was perceptibly trembling. When she had calmed down a little, I then got Steve and Debbie to begin calling Meg to them, using small pieces of dried liver to reward her compliance. Within an hour, her owners were sitting alongside a dog that was tangibly less stressed than she had ever been before. Most importantly of all the glowering eyes had been replaced by what I like to call ‘soft eyes’. In the years I have been using my method, I have come to recognise soft eyes as the clearest signal that a connection has been made, that I have communicated with the dog. As soon as I saw Meg’s eyes, I knew a corner had been turned.

  I continued working with Steve and Debbie for two weeks, making sure they kept asserting their leadership during this time. They grasped the principles of Amichien Bonding well. They would ignore Meg whenever she approached them uninvited. All attempts by her to establish contact were disregarded. Whenever she made a positive response she was rewarded with a morsel of food.

  At the same time, I concentrated on teaching them to react differently whenever Meg became agitated. If she barked at the postman one of the family would acknowledge the bark with a simple ‘thank you’. The message was that Meg had done her job, passed on the information to the newly elected leader.

  Old habits die hard in dogs as well as humans. For a while she continued to growl at visitors when they came into the sitting room. Whenever this happened I asked Steve and Debbie to get up and walk out of the room. This simple action made two powerful points clear to Meg. Firstly, there were consequences to her actions. Secondly, it was no longer her role to decide who was and was not welcome in the home. Her days as leader were over.

  Finally during this period I got the whole family to gesture eat. Each of them would make a point of eating a cracker or a biscuit in full view of the dog. Only when each of them had finished was the dog’s bowl put down on the floor. Her owners were signalling: ‘Right, we’ve finished, you have what’s left.’ It was, as I have explained earlier, another important way of underlining the pecking order and relieving the dog of its responsibility for a job it was not equipped to do.

  Within a few weeks Meg’s personality – and the atmosphere within the entire family – had been transformed. The arrival of the morning post was no longer a cause for consternation. If Meg showed any signs of agitation, a few simple reassuring words from her owners calmed her down. The days of the headlong dash to the doormat were over. Visitors were also free to come and go without being molested or intimidated.

  The idea behind the television programme was that viewers would see the dog ‘before and after’ a period applying my method. With the cameras still running, Steve and Debbie confessed they were overwhelmed by the transformation that had occurred. They could not hide their emotions as they cuddled Meg in a way they had never imagined possible. Debbie cried openly. Moments like these make what I do worthwhile. Sitting there in the room with them I found it impossible not to shed a tear or two myself.

  Chapter 9

  Peacemaking: Dogs that Bite

  The most dangerous, disturbing and difficult problem I have to deal with is undoubtedly biting. I only have to cast my mind back to my own Purdey to recall the chilling awfulness that comes with the realisation that your dog is capable of attacking a human. To most people, as it did to my father, biting represents the crossing of a line, a step into a form of behaviour that is simply unacceptable. I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked to intervene in cases where dogs have been given their last chance to reform or face being destroyed. I have been lucky enough to save most of them.

  In dealing with this subject, we have first of all to be realistic. The plain truth of the matter is, of course, that dogs cannot unlearn what they have been programmed instinctively to do. Their right to self-defence is as deeply ingrained as ours. Placed in a threatening situation they face the three options – to flee, freeze or fight. Make no mistake, if necessary they will exercise the latter, and will take up their right to defend themselves. It is as simple as that.

  As with all areas of my work, no two biting dogs are alike. The root causes underlying their behaviour may be the same, but the manner in which their aggression shows itself is, by nature, unique in every case. This was certainly true in the cases of three very different dogs I have been asked to treat since developing my method.

  Years of experience have taught me to recognise certain types of dogs without even casting eyes on them. Such a dog was Spike, a white German shepherd, owned by two brothers, Steve and Paul, living in a suburb of Manchester. The brothers had called me in the hope I could cure Spike’s habit of attacking and biting visitors to their house. Spike’s attacks had become increasingly forceful. He had, for instance, begun attacking anyone who tried to leave the house. The moment anyone, the brothers included, placed their hand on the front door handle, Spike would jump up and deliver a nasty nip. Family members had become so fearful of the situation, they no longer visited. Steve and Paul were seriously worried they would have to let Spike go if the situation did not improve.

  I didn’t even need to enter their home to realise Spike was a formidable creature. From the depth, tone and power of the bark and the furious speed in which it was delivered as I walked up the path towards the brothers’ front door, I could tell this was a dog that was supremely confident in itself and its status within its pack.

  It was an impression that was confirmed as soon as I was inside the house. Within the safety of his own den, Spike simply oozed authority. There was an almost tangible aura around the dog. As he strutted around, his body language was unmistakable. He was a well built animal and was aware of his power. He was the Alpha male in this home and was determined that everyone would know it. As I walked in he eyeballed me, barking and threatening about three feet away from me.

  As I have mentioned before, respect is absolutely central to all relationships with dogs. If you demonstrate it to them, they will reciprocate by showing it to you too. In the case of Spike I knew that it would be especially important. As ever, my first job was to convince Spike that I too was an Alpha. In this case I also had to persuade him that I was a non-threatening one. I began by immediately ignoring the dog in the usual way. On this occasion, however, I was also careful to avoid any sudden movements that would be likely to cause Spike anxiety. Again, experience has taught me that even the most innocuous movement, crossing our legs for instance, can provoke a response in a strong-natured and aggressive dog like this. It was a thin line to walk in many ways: I could not be seen to be weak, but at the same time I could not throw out signs of hostility. At the back of my mind, as always, was the model of the wolf pack. My aim was to create a situation in which we respected each other’s mutual space.

  The brothers had asked the advice of many people before turning to me. I was appalled at some of the things they had been told. They had been advised, for instance, that the dog needed a good thrashing. ‘Knock some respect into it,’ the so-called expert had told them. Another person had – to my horror – recommended that they simply ‘stare out’ the dog. Short of physically attacking the dog, I can think of nothing more certain to cause a confrontation. This constitutes a direct challenge to the dog and in the case of dogs like Spike, they will invariably defend themselves. Fortunately the brothers were too sensible to undertake either course of action. I shuddered to think what the consequences might have been if they had not been so wise.

  As soon as I began explaining the situation that existed, Steve and Paul began to see hope at last. Spike clearly saw both the brothers and the house as his responsibility. His aggressive behaviour at the door in particular was clearly to do with his protecting the den. He could not rationalise what lay outside the door but he was certain that he was respo
nsible for guarding his pack from whatever dangers lay out there. Talking to the brothers in more detail, I learned that Spike’s reaction was in fact a nip rather than a bite, which did not surprise me. Very few dogs bite to cause damage. What they are doing is delivering a warning shot. If a dog, especially a German shepherd like Spike, really meant to bite you then it would; the carnage it would cause does not bear thinking about.

  Spike’s protectiveness was, in truth, typical of dogs in the pastoral group, like collies and shelties. They have been bred by man to do the job of caring, and that is what they do to the best of their ability in an environment they don’t understand. As I got to know Spike and his owners better, it became clear that his increasingly aggressive behaviour was being made worse by the fact that everyone deferred totally to him within that home. As his leadership had remained unchallenged, so his power base had grown. This situation had to be reversed, the owners had to exercise what I call ‘power management’.

  My aim was to allow the brothers to establish a first foothold of their own within the power structure of their pack. To do this, I had to help them create as calm and non-threatening an environment as possible. Fortunately I found a hugely helpful ally in the unlikely shape of their housekeeper. Some people undoubtedly have a greater confidence with dogs than others. Sometimes I wonder whether these people are somehow in closer contact with the ancient language that has been lost. Equally, however, there are others who are awfully nervous around dogs. We all know people who tiptoe around, almost creeping along the walls it seems, whenever they come into contact with a dog. Their nervousness is, of course, picked up instantly by the dog. The fact is, however, that no one need harbour fear of any kind. Treated correctly, almost all dogs are perfectly safe and will cause no harm to anyone.

  There was no doubt into which category the brothers’ housekeeper fitted. She had been present in the house throughout my session quietly getting on with her cleaning, washing and polishing duties. She barely paid the dog any attention whatsoever. In return Spike treated her with the utmost respect. At one point he even jumped out of the way when she appeared with her cleaning trolley.

  I was able to use her as a means of explaining what the brothers needed to do. They could see that there was nothing intimidating about the lady at all. Yet by instinctively refusing to pay homage to the dog she had persuaded Spike that she was his superior. If there was a model of the behaviour they should be aiming for, she represented it perfectly.

  I knew the challenge that lay ahead of the brothers was immense. I told them that on a scale of one to ten in terms of aggression, Spike was easily an eight: way above the average mark of four or five that I was used to dealing with. I warned them that they might need to keep up the silent pressure for months rather than the usual weeks. Fortunately again they were willing students and they adopted my methods enthusiastically. They called me occasionally over the following fortnight, usually to check on dealing with specific situations. In most cases they were doing exactly the right things, they had grasped my ideas perfectly.

  Four months after I had visited them, I got a phone call from a relative asking me to help with a problem he was encountering with his dog. He told me that Spike’s behaviour had improved enormously. The brothers were now able to control any situation that occurred within the home. Their family had begun visiting them again.

  Not all dogs exude the same blend of confidence and power as Spike, of course. It does not make their aggression any less dangerous, however. In November 1996, I began a BBC radio phone-in programme offering help with problem dogs. One of my earliest callers was a couple called Jen and Steve from the town of Driffield, a forty-mile drive away from me. They had taken on a little three-year-old cocker spaniel called Jazzie six months earlier. He had a reputation for bad behaviour but, as previous dog owners, they had been confident they could improve his temperament. Their efforts had, however, failed. Even worse, Jazzie had begun biting both of them whenever he disapproved of what they were asking him to do.

  Once more, a clear idea of the dog I was about to deal with was forming even before I met Jazzie. Walking up to their front door, I heard furious barking, but this time of a kind much different from that of the super-confident Spike. This was a very staccato, almost panicky, bark. My suspicions were confirmed as I stepped inside. As I was greeted by Jen and Steve, Jazzie pushed himself forward barking more aggressively now. His body language was as confrontational as it could have been but the crucial difference was in his position. Unlike Spike who had been ‘in my face’, Jazzie was standing at least six feet away from me. To me it was clear in an instant that this was a dog that was even more terrified of the situation than the humans with which it was coming into contact. It was clearly a reluctant Alpha, a dog that had been given the job of leadership but was completely unsuited to the role. Once more, we had to strip him of his responsibility.

  As I have explained, all dogs react to the signals I present to them at their own pace and in their own way. Some dogs, like Spike, are particularly reluctant to give up their responsibility, their self-belief is such that they cannot face the prospect of losing their top dog status. We see this in our politicians, of course. Look at how people like Margaret Thatcher cling to the idea that they remain in power even when they have little left. Other dogs, however, are utterly relieved to have the load lifted off their shoulders. Jazzie was an example of the latter.

  I began working with Jen and Steve in the normal way, explaining my method and getting them to put it into practice immediately. Throughout the time we talked Jazzie stood in the same room, again keeping his distance slightly but maintaining an almost continuous stream of barks and growls. I, of course, am immune to such interruptions but, as so often happens, the owners reached breaking point and asked whether they should remove him. I told them to try to ignore it, which they did. Within half an hour their persistence paid off. Suddenly Jazzie stopped making a noise, turned away from us and headed towards a staircase in the middle of the open-plan room. In full view of us, he walked to the top of the stairs where he promptly plonked himself down and sat with his back to us. If it had been a child, we would have concluded that he had gone off in a sulk.

  In all situations, it is vital that the dog is allowed the flight option, that it is free to walk away from the situation. The worst possible thing we can do is to put a dog in a corner. That way the next two options – to freeze or to fight – are brought into play. And that is where the real problems begin. For this reason we let Jazzie sit there. Jen and Steve wondered whether we should pick him up but I reassured them that Jazzie was doing exactly what was required of him. It was as clear an example as I had seen of a dog dealing with the new situation and making a judgement about its future. I advised that Jen and Steve should not in the future go up to Jazzie but should invite the dog to come to them; this is vital with reformed biters, such dogs must not be put into a position where the only defence is attack.

  Jazzie sat on the stairs for at least half an hour. Then suddenly he picked himself up again, trotted back down the stairs and came to lie on the carpet. Soon he was stretching out on the carpet in front of us. I recall the sunshine pouring into the living room. And I couldn’t help thinking that the shadows were lifting from Jen and Steve’s life too. The balance of power had shifted perceptibly in that one hour. Suddenly it was as if Jazzie didn’t have a care in the world. He no longer felt responsible for anyone in the room. Instead he was now waiting for the opportunity to pay homage to his new leaders. Jen and Steve could begin to enjoy a new and fulfilling life with him. It was only later that I realised Jazzie had been within a few days of being destroyed. My intervention had been the final throw of the dice. The sense of job satisfaction was enormous.

  As a footnote to this, I should mention that two years later I got a call from Jen. She and Steve had become concerned at the fact that Jazzie had begun growling and barking at visitors once more. He had also nipped them when they had tried to take objects
away from him. When I asked her whether they were still adhering to the five-minute rule she admitted they were not. Jazzie’s behaviour had improved so much that they had, if the truth be known, become a little bit blasé about it all.

  I told Jen what I tell all the owners I come into contact with. My method is a way of life, not a quick fix. It must be adhered to at all times, and must become second nature. What was particularly pleasing in this instance, however, was the speed with which Jen and Steve were able to rectify the situation. I advised them to go back to the beginning, to ‘shut down’ on Jazzie again, as they had done at the beginning of the process two years earlier. I always form an interest in the families I help. So I rang Jen the next day to find out how things were. She simply laughed. Jazzie was back to his best behaviour once more, she told me. It had taken four hours applying the method to iron out all his problems.

  Of course whenever I treat a case involving a biting dog, I cannot help but think of Purdey. Each time my mind goes back to the awful events of almost thirty years ago.

  Purdey’s behaviour, I now know, was typical of so many dogs. She was no different from Jazzie and Spike, she was merely trying to do the job she believed she was supposed to. It was not her fault that she was completely unequipped to fulfil that task. When Purdey had jumped up and barked at my son Tony, she had been treating him as a subordinate pack member. He had been inadvertently challenging her leadership, and she had dealt with him in the manner she believed was right. It was her misfortune that when she did so, he was standing in such a dangerous position.