Bones Would Rain from the Sky: Deepening Our Relationships with Dogs (35 page)

in the guise of "for your own good!
we have not excluded possible cruelty but
practically assured its inclusion.
We have two basic choices when trying to resolve
any conflict within a relationship: persuasion or
coercion. Persuasion is possible only where
freedom exists. If I am willing to accept
whatever
choice you may make, I am able to use persuasion
and nothing more in my attempt to get you to do what I'd
like you to do. Persuasion contains no elements of
cruelty-by its very nature, persuasion contains the
freedoms of both involved, and within that freedom
lies profound respect even if disagreement
exists. If the dog is truly free to say
"No, thanks" and we are truly willing to accept
that answer, then we are engaged in persuasion. Often
while out walking, I'll tell Bee, "Gimme
that!" Whatever her response-giving me the toy so
I can throw it or keeping it herself-is fine with me;
she is truly free to do as she likes in that
situation. "Gimme that" is not a command but a
suggestion, an attempt to persuade her to let me
have the toy. I have to be very clear in my own mind what
is a suggestion and what is a command and maintain
absolute consistence on the distinction.
But persuasion has limits, and especially within the

context of our role as guardians and
caretakers, persuasion may fail. In some
situations, compulsion or coercion may be
justified, especially if the consequences of a
failure to respond or act in a certain way can
be dangerous or even deadly. Few of us would
choose persuasion to deal with a child about to stick a fork
into an electrical outlet or walk into traffic;
most of us would simply forcefully compel the child to stop.
The moment we begin to limit the dog's options, when
"no" is not an acceptable response, we are no
longer persuading but coercing.
Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary
defines
coerce
as
1.ffrestrain or dominate by nullifying
individual will
2.!-pel to an act or choice
3.ffenforce or bring about by force or threat
Coercion covers the full gamut from mild
restraint (physical or psychological]
to outright physical assault, but it always involves
denying another complete freedom in some way. Though
coercion contains the
I thought about this a long time and realized that
no matter how modest or unimportant the goal,
the moment I have something I want, an outcome I
desire more than other possible outcomes, there
arises the possibility for anger, and further along
that spectrum, the possibility of cruelty if I
am willing to pursue my goal at any cost, even
at the expense of another living being. We may not
take the achievement of a goal to Machiavellian
extremes. But simply shaping a goal and focusing
on it has the additional effect of narrowing our
perspective; aimed at our goal, we may forget
the dog beside us.
I
essential and nonessential
Despite an unpleasantly substantial knowledge of
how animals are abused in the name of training, I
remain fascinated with what is possible between a
human and an animal. I know what it is to set
off in pursuit of a goal with an animal as my
partner, and I know how easy it is to gaze in
desirous unblinking thrall at the goal and lose
sight of the very real animal at my side. And yet,
the pursuit of excellence is a good and noble
cause, one that asks, What might be? What is

possible? How far can we go?
When we ask these questions of ourselves, we are bound only
by the effects of our actions on those around us and are
relatively free to push ourselves quite hard in
pursuit of a goal. But a far more problematic question
arises when we select an animal as our partner.
How far can we ask animals to go with us without
crossing the line into inhumane? After all, what is
it that allows an animal to shine, bringing his utmost
to a task, displaying his talents with confidence and joy?
In the best of all possible worlds it is simply this:
the relationship between the animal and a human. If within
a healthy and mutually joyful relationship, the
dogsthuman team strives for the highest performance of which
they as a team are capable, then that is gilding on an
already lovely gem.
To the best of my knowledge, no dog has ever leapt on
to his owner's bed with a dog magazine in his teeth and
announced, "You've got to read this! They're now
offering a new title! If I can just learn to do x,
y and z, and do it in less than fifty-three
seconds without any mistakes, then I could be
Champion Oh My Goodness Gracious!" And this
is the little notion that somehow is overlooked at one time
or another by even the best, most loving dog owners:
The dogs aren't volunteers. They are
drafted. I have no problems with "drafting" a dog
to learn new skills and hone his God-given
talents. To a large extent, dogs and other
animals who are highly trained often lead interesting
lives with a degree of stimulation simply not found in
the backyard or pasture. I've seen the eagerness
in the eyes of a dog who is asked to work at that which he
loves best, whether it is herding sheep or hunting
birds or prancing at heel in precise harmony
with his handler or providing gentle, loving company as
a therapy dog. Deprived of the natural stimulation
of life in a pack, dogs
what Timmy never Dm to lassie

are highly intelligent beings who welcome the
opportunity to use their minds in new ways. So,
in theory, educating an animal is a good thing. In
practice, however, something else often happens.
There are many approaches to training, all promising
to help you turn your dog into a well-mannered
canine citizen, a goal that at first blush seems
laudable indeed. Though the end result may be a good
thing, not all ways of getting to that end are; not all of
them are fair and humane. Though the goal of a

well-mannered canine citizen is a good
one, we must be careful about what we are willing to do
in order to achieve that goal. We need to make the
distinction between essential life skills and
nonessential life skills. Such a distinction
helps us to clearly define the relative
importance of what is being taught. Without such a
distinction, how do we choose what might be most
appropriate for our dogs, our lifestyles, the
kind of relationships we hope to have?
The emphasis we place on the importance of
teaching a dog x, y or z says a great deal
about us, and about the relationship between us and our dogs.
Care should be taken that we are clear in our own minds
about what we consider important enough to achieve at
almost any cost and what we will not do. It's far too
easy to get caught up in niceties that have nothing
to do with cooperation and good manners from the dog. Common
sense would tell us that when essential life skills
are involved, there may be some convincing rationale for
working persistently to make sure the skills are
mastered, regardless of whether a dog or person
actually enjoys the process, though I think we have
an ethical obligation to do our level best to make
learning as pleasant as possible.
Humane training is possible when we are
very clear about what we are trying to teach, and how we
are going to teach it, and also
why
we are convinced that it is important that our dog know
a particular something. The importance we assign
any particular goal will dictate our willingness
to accept even distasteful ways of achieving that goal.
Whenever we forget that we are dealing with draftees and
not volunteers, when we mistake willingness and
enthusiasm for informed consent, we begin a dangerous
movement away from the dog as our friend, our partner and
toward the dog as an object to be shaped-however
necessary-to suit our needs and expectations.
Essential life skills are the skills and
behaviors that a dog needs to
learn so that he has maximum freedom and minimal
risk and stress in his world.
For each dog, this means something different. There is
no book that will outline behaviors and neatly
assign them a category: essential or

nonessential. It's not even possible
to pick a single behavior and say it is essential
for all dogs. The set of life skills that each
dog needs to have varies tremendously from dog to dog
and is uniquely shaped by his life.
For example, I could ask my dogs to heel
precisely on the way to the barn, but I don't
need them to do that. Since we live far from any
road, there is a lot of flexibility in how we and
our dogs move together through the farm. In their life,
precise heeling does not constitute an essential
life skill. What I do consider an essential
life skill is a willingness to lie down quickly when
asked, and to stay where dropped until released. Such
action may save their lives or keep them from
harm's way, and so I do insist on a fairly high
degree of precision on this score. Because I
consider this an essential life skill for my
dogs, I am willing to use some degree of force
to assure their compliance.
But I have to be critically honest about my
expectations and a dog's understanding. To the extent that I
bring my time, attention and investment of myself to the
practice of this essential skill, they comply
largely without need for anything but the mildest
compulsion-a mildly scolding "ehVery or a
light hand of reminder on a neck. When I let
quick drops and steady stays slip,
they
let it slip as well not because they are lazy or
resistant dogs but
because it does not matter to them.
It only matters to me, and thus it is my
responsibility to maintain a high level of
awareness about this, and my obligation to remain invested in
maintenance of the behavior. If I am unaware of
my responsibility and blame the dogs, who do not
understand the importance of the behavior as one way
to keep them safe in their world, then I might slip
over the edge and justify using force, placing the
blame on the dogs and not on myself where it belongs.
when the answer Is No
It would be nice if a checklist existed that neatly
pointed us to what was naughty and what was nice in
terms of our response to a particular sit-
were
i
uation or behavior. But nothing is as clear-cut as
we might like, and within the context of a relationship, we
have to do the work of making choices for our own behavior

in every situation. In a situation where I am
going to compel, not persuade, I do my level best
to use the absolute minimum of compulsion that will be
effective. This is an ongoing challenge, because there
is no set limit of what is or is not
effective with any particular dog at any
particular moment. The situation, the respective
moods of the dog and myself, the weather, what happened a
moment before or a week before, what we had for
breakfast or lunch-because all this combines to create a
unique moment, there's not a way to predict or
recommend the level of compulsion that constitutes an
effective communication in that moment. Fine points
must be considered and taken into account.
If, for example, I say that a dog refused
to lie down on command, that is insufficient information on
which any humane trainer could make a recommendation
as to how this should be handled. "My dog will not lie down
on command" is nothing more than the first line in a
possible lengthy discussion and examination of why this
might be so and therefore what is to be done. To the
extent that we are willing to thoroughly engage ourselves
in this discussion, sincerely interested in the possibly
answer, we are working in a humane and loving way.
When we are no longer curious, when we no longer
care what the explanation might be, we have
opened the door to cruelty. There is nothing humane
or fair in a refusal to acknowledge another being's
legitimate reason for doing something other than what
we wanted or expected.
Why didn't the dog lie down? The simplest
answer-the one we allow for in our human
relationships but rarely in our relationships with
animals comis that the answer is no for whatever
reason. Far too often when communicating with dogs,
we are not really interested in communication or a
dialogue; we are interested in finding ways to tell
the dog what we want him to do (or not do). And this
is where communication ceases to exist, and
dictatorship, no matter how benevolent, begins.
If someone we loved or at least deeply
respected said no to us, a healthy and respectful
response would be "why not?"-asked with the sincere
intention to understand the other's point of view. If we
can get past the flare of annoyance or even anger
at their refusal, if we are sincerely interested
and open ourselves to listening, we can

learn perhaps that while they might like
to respond to us, they can't for any variety of
reasons. Before we can choose a humane and fair
response, we need to hear the full message that the
dog is sending. Is the dog saying "No, I
don't understand how to do that" or "No, I'm confused"
or something else? Perhaps they are physically unable,
or they find the act frightening (never ask my mother
to hold a horse, even briefly!) or they have
something else they'd rather do. They may be bored or
uninterested. We may have hurt them or confused them,
making them reluctant to work with us again. They may have
other priorities. They may have no respect for
us-this is a possibility that should be carefully
examined when we have gone past the point of friendly
conversation and request and are now in the demandst-mand
stage of insisting. If we love them, if the
relationship is important to us, we will listen for the
rationale behind the refusal or resistance, and our
hearts will be guided by the trust that even if it cannot be
fully understood or articulated, they have a good
reason for saying no.
This does not mean when a dog or anyone says no
we simply give up and wander off in search of someone
more compliant. It is possible to honor the reason
behind a dog's refusal and still decide how
you will insist on compliance. My experience is that very
often, an animal needs an acknowledgment of the
motivation behind his resistance more than he needs us
to simply withdraw our request. Though it sounds
terribly simple, I am endlessly amazed by what
happens when I assure an animal that I do
understand why he finds something unpleasant or scary,
and I believe that like all people I know, animals also
need to be heard. It may be only that the animals
are responding to the shift in me when I work with them in
such moments, offering my sympathy, which in turn
shapes and informs my very actions. But this limited
explanation does not explain the look I have seen in
the eyes of creatures too many and too varied
to list-a look of gratitude for having been
acknowledged. Whatever the truth behind this phenomenon
may be, I don't care; it is enough for me to know
what can happen when I respectfully acknowledge
another being's resistance as something as fully
justified and real as my insistence on another path.
If you understand what lies behind
no,if you understand why you