Friend or Faux?
Posted By Randy on February 16, 2015
“Humans, like metals, are malleable, and you can deform a sheet of metal with hammer-blows and then tap it out flat again. But any metallurgist will assure you that the whole sheet has changed, and only melting it down and rolling it again will undo it.” ~ Freedom & Necessity, Steven Brust & Emma Bull
In this era of quick fixes and humans know best, what I’ve quoted above could just as easily be applied to the “training” of Dogs. In its reference to malleability, the words of the eloquent Ms. Bull and Mr. Brust also posit that forceful methods of modification come hand in hand with an intrinsic change from the Natural state of the raw material. A condition that can be reversed to its original and undeformed condition, but at what cost?
Everyone recognizes the term “Dog training”, but evidence garnered from my own observations leads me to the conclusion that little in the form of a standardized understanding exists in society. For clarity then, let us begin today by defining it. Quite simply, the concept giving birth to the term arises from the need for Humans and Dogs to live and function together in harmony and for mutual benefit, therefore necessitating a set of guidelines that are both understood and understandable by all parties. Keep that in mind as we go forward.
As most of you know, Mrs. LFM and I have Dogs in our family that would have been dead, or otherwise condemned to life in an animal shelter, if not for having met us. For each of them, the genesis of becoming a treasured part of our family was a combination of the serendipitous involvement of some very fine people, and human misunderstanding. Ham handed cluelessness. Even the base malice of the bully against a perceived weaker target. I don’t say this with any intention to wrap our Clan in a mantle of nobility, but simply to point out that not a one of these Dogs was branded a failure by society through any fault of their own, and none carried any genetic or temperamental predisposition to destructive outbursts. As with all Natural things, they simply needed to belong to an understandable world, and in the condition they each arrived in, that world needed to be patient and unhurried. They needed to find Respect, both given and received, in a spirit of what the Esteemed Silvia Jay refers to as “Mindful Leadership”.
Mindfulness, Goode Reader, is a language we speak here, and that you are well advised to pursue to whatever level of fluency your own Nature permits. I’ve written of it more than a few times. It’s at the root of the Way of the Wild, and governs every encounter between creatures of Nature, whether those involved be species of like or unlike kind.
Every living thing in Nature, flora or fauna, has a Way that defines its ideal state of being. That balanced equation of form and function forged by generations of evolution against the anvil of environmental reality. This ideal state of being is, for each species, its own unique expression of the greater, all encompassing Way – the Way of the Wild – the Way from which all others spring. ~ Worldly Wisdom Wednesday – The Way of the Wild
The making and raising of Mindful Leaders, of Humans worthy of being defined as such by the Way of the Wild, has motivated us LFMs to do the most Natural thing there is – conceive, birth, and raise up a kid or three. In this pursuit, we have taken a step back from our professional hands-on outpatient activities as heretofore offered by Golden Mountain Dog Solutions, and this hiatus has offered a perfect opportunity for reflection on the Dogs, Humans, and situations we’ve met over the years. The successes and failures, measured against the Truths, “truths”, half-truths, and overt lies we’ve heard spoken, although never by the Dogs involved.
“There’s facts about dogs, and then there’s opinions about them. The dogs have the facts, and the humans have the opinions. If you want the facts about the dog, always get them straight from the dog. If you want opinions, get them from humans.” ~ J. Allen Boone
The road so far has led us to a number of conclusions that I will no doubt expand on in the future, but today I will focus on one deplorable parasitic industry that owes its success to people who for one reason or another are “too busy”, or otherwise (though always self-excusingly) unwilling to be truly present in their relationship with a Dog. These people would be dead, maimed, unhappily married or (probably repeatedly) divorced, jailed, or (hopefully) have their children seized if they brought the same mindset to their interpersonal relationships with other Humans, and yet society accepts the methods they embrace in Dog “training” without a blink of an eye.
I’ve written before of a related industry now generically referred to as “invisible fence“, but today I speak in the broadest of strokes on the application of shock collar based aversive training methods, and its general acceptance as THE WAY to that perfect relationship between you and your Dog … or rather dog, because I only capitalize the name of a thing when the reference is to the thing in its entirety, and that is not what those who follow this path are looking for.
Early in the present century, while Mrs. LFM was finishing her last year of University, we rented an apartment in Halifax near the Dalhousie campus. In the neighbourhood lived a woman who was regularly encountered walking her Dog, off lead, on sidewalks that lay adjacent to busy city streets. The Dog never strayed from being in a perfect on the left, shoulders even with handler’s legs, position, and never looked right or left. Neither did it make any kind of eye contact with the woman, and nothing that happened around it was ever seen to break the spell. It was an automaton that just looked like a Dog, and while the woman appeared content, there was no detectable joy in the relationship for either of them.
We’ll never know for sure what methods were employed to kill the Spirit of a Dog to the degree necessary to convert it into a piece of walking furniture – although it had the earmarks of electric shock collar aversive “training” written all over it – but the Dog in question had clearly learned that its only hope of happiness lay within very narrow and strictly enforced limits of behaviour. The animal called Dog simply didn’t live there any more, in a manner I find reminds me of what I’ve read describing the assimilation philosophy underlying the Canadian Indian Residential School system – “Kill the Indian in the child.” ~ Worldly Wisdom Wednesday – Nature’s Rules?
Consider this:
“No organism can afford to be conscious of matters with which it could deal at unconscious levels.” ~ Gregory Bateson – Steps to an Ecology of Mind
All Teaching, of whatever sort, must be Mindful of this singular Truth, so that anything learned will mesh with the Way of the Wild as it expresses itself in the Student. Think on this, Goode Reader, and as you do, keep in mind what is left of Dogs at the end of shock collar and other aversive “training” methods, engendering as they do a requirement to be conscious of every motivation lest it end in correction.
Well said .The laws of the wild do not torture. Dogs look to us for direction and approval and love . In my opinion these torture devices and such should be struck off the planet.
May we be worthy of our dogs. I would rather have dogs as leaders than most humans in politics too. And about those god-cursed shock collars – I have a habit of cutting them off when I find a dog wandering the streets who has obviously run out of his yard and can't get back without being shocked. I find them new homes with humans who know how to treat a four legged brother or sister. If anyone doesn't like that, screw them. Good article, btw, and so well stated. We are not their masters; as one picture I posted on FB, you do not OWN a dog, you HAVE a dog and he has you! To me that is a covenant which I take as seriously as any other. For life.
and PS = my very large yard has a four foot chain link fence to protect my four legged family, and my front door has a device I made so that they can come in or go out as they want. Maybe I am like the crazy old cat ladies people joke about but since my beloved wife died, these are my only family and this is their home as much as mine. There is nothing more relaxing to me than having three or four of my babies snuggled up with me in the bed… although it does sometimes get a wee bit crowded… but I love it!
I REMEMBER MS. THATCHER d’BOP
by
Stephen F. Kaufman
Thatcher came into my life when my now passed-on wife got her as a birthday present … way back when. At first, I wasn’t thrilled with having a dog in a New York apartment, especially one that was the runt of the litter, a fragile and frightened puppy at best.
I eventually, (ten minutes after we met) took to her and knew I would probably have my hands full with the standard walking and feeding all day while I was busy working on a book, having to stop work and tend to her while my wife was away at her job.
A cocker spaniel was not exactly what I would have chosen for a canine companion: not exactly a ‘man’s’ dog. How to turn her into a fierce guardian of the throne? Instinctively, I knew that was not her purpose in my life. Certainly not a lap dog, if you will, but I had no problem as she came to be that. With much TLC, Thatcher began to feel secure and I began to teach her the basic, sit, heel, stay, and come commands and definitely not dumb stuff like rollover, play dead, etc. My wife had no problem with undermining all of that and told me that ‘her’ dog was not to be treated with stern discipline. Wife went out of her way to spoil her and to keep peace in the realm; I acquiesced to a degree until I began taking her to Central Park early in the morning to keep me company while I did my workouts.
Thatcher may have sensed something, and I am sure she did, about her and me. She would sit quietly while I exercised, and then gamboled along with me through the woods, never straying more than ten feet. She responded to my commands and I would give her a treat. She would roll around on the grass, sniff flowers, and chase squirrels, being the young pup she was. She grew and developed a sense of self.
Time went on and one day she walked into a wall in the house. She stood there frozen and offered up a slight whimper. She went suddenly blind at the age of nine. I was distraught, but knew that she would be totally dependent on me. By that time my wife had passed. I continued to treat Thatcher as if nothing terrible had happened. She became terrified at the prospect of being taken for a walk and still wanting her companionship with me on my jaunts, I bought a Radio Flyer wagon, fixed it with a soft pad and a bowl of water and took her with me wherever I went. It had to be a strange sight to see a big, bald, 6’3” man walking to the park pulling a dog in a red wagon and carrying a bokken over my shoulder. In the park, she would stay in the wagon and I would put her on the ground so she could continue to play. More time passed and eventually it was time for me to put her down. My emotions at that point were numbed. I had lost my friend and lover. Thatcher and I lived a good life.
I remember Thatcher.