I can’t remember where I read this, a tidbit in one of those dozens of dog books I devoured, but it was a line to the effect that “poodles, more than other breeds, have a sense of humor.” It’s one of those entirely unprovable statements that I have decided to take as truth. I’m thinking it was probably Stanley Coren, because it sounds like the kind of thing he’d say, but the point was that poodles enjoyed practical jokes and liked playing tricks on their humans. Who can even say if this is even remotely true, but I like believing it, and I have harbored a fondness for poodles (especially standard poodles) ever since.
We flew from London to Boston this past weekend and were kindly provided housing for a night in the charming town of Hingham. Louie, a miniature poodle, was one of our hosts.
Louie, at his human mother’s admission, is a very sensitive dog. She says that unlike their previous dogs—labs and golden retrievers, who preferred lying around with dazed expressions—Louie gets up from his throne and sits near his people and seems to be listening to their conversations. He watches his human’s face with deep concentration, and I dare say, anthropomorphically, he had such a human expression on his little fluffy face.
My husband agreed, saying that our dogs look so much like dogs (i.e., wolves). Their happy faces are dog-happy faces, and their intense faces are dog-intense faces. But Louie? His happy face seemed to be a human-happy face.
I know this is all crazy-pants, but these are the kinds of things that run through my head when I am with dogs.
Do you think that certain breeds approximate human emotions more than others?
I think Patricia McConnell is my hero. This is only the second book of hers that I have read, but I loved it just as much as The Other End of the Leash and would recommend For the Love of a Dog heartily to all dog owners.
For the Love of a Dog focuses intently on the exchange of emotions between humans and their dogs. It is less of a training book and more of a emotional manual for navigating the feelings of dogs. And I found it to be an indispensable guide to the sentiments and desires of our canine companions.
In my months of reading dog books, one of the big warnings that often comes from trainers is the danger of applying “human” emotions to dogs. While I do think there is a danger in treating our dogs like humans, or believing that they think like humans, the dangers of anthropomorphism are often more subtle than we are cultured to expect. McConnell writes well about this injunction of anthropomorphizing our animals. She points out that we are often quick to assign base emotions to our dogs–feelings like anger, rage, and possessiveness–but we are reluctant to say that dogs can have finer feelings, like devotion, grief, and joy. This is a great loss, McConnell says, and it undermines our emotional intelligence with our dogs.
McConnell demonstrates the fine balance between interpreting canine emotion and falsely applying human feelings. Her expertise as a dog trainer and animal behaviorist is applied to teach her readers how to know the difference. I feel like I have a much deeper appreciation of the emotional complexities of dogs and I am more reluctant to underestimate them after having read this book.
As I’ve mentioned before, McConnell is a great writer and I always enjoy reading her generous stories about the dogs she’s worked with and life with her own dogs on her Wisconsin farm. I think this book should be required reading for anyone who shares their life with a dog and wants to know more about what is going on inside. McConnell’s wisdom and advice have the potential to transform the ways that we interact with our dogs. For the Love of a Dog provides a strong reminder that, when we are interacting with our dogs, rigid training regimens and stubborn mindsets are far less valuable than humility and insight.
I recognized Elizabeth Marshall Thomas’s name from the many book blurbs she wrote for the other dog books I was reading. I’d heard The Hidden Life of Dogs mentioned as a “much-loved” text, one woman’s insight into the “mysterious” lives of canines. It was short and so I thought, what the heck, I’ll read it.
The book is written in a memoir-like style and covers Thomas’s years of life with a large pack of Siberian huskies and one dingo (where this dingo came from, I don’t know, since Thomas lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and made no mention of ever visiting the Australian bush). Thomas spent time on Baffin Island observing wolves and her admiration for wolves comes through in her interactions with her dogs. Throughout the book, she constantly uses “wolf language” to describe how her dogs interact: They’re operating in a pack, there’s a hierarchy, there’s general suspicion toward humans, etc. Even her attraction to the husky breed indicates this desire of hers to keep wolves as pets.
Early on, we are introduced to the stud-bolt husky Misha. Misha is the celebrated wandering warrior, the Aragorn, if you will, of this story. Misha comes to live with Thomas and quickly makes it clear that he doesn’t want to stay in her fence. He nimbly scales the 6-foot wall and disappears. He escapes and wanders for hours and is often gone for days. Thomas says she would get calls from people six miles away saying they’d found her husky.
Though she lived in busy, urban Cambridge, Thomas made no efforts to curtail Misha’s adventures and instead decided to follow him on his treks. What she discovered was that Misha had an unusually excellent internal GPS system. He could always find his way home. He never got lost. He navigated Cambridge traffic like a seasoned pro and was never hit by a car (which seems a miracle in itself). Her time tracking Misha led her to bring other huskies into her home and within a few years, she had a veritable pack on her hands.
The part about following Misha intrigued me, but after those journeys, Thomas’s narrative and observations failed to maintain my interest and my respect. Thomas doesn’t seem to think that her dogs required any training or obedience–she prefers that they live according to their natural instincts. This is a nice idea–if you’re the type of person who can put up with 10 unruly dogs in your house. Thankfully for her sanity, Thomas appears to have been this type of person.
But that’s not even what bothered me the most. What really irked me was Thomas’s lack of care and concern for her dogs’ sexual health. None of her 10 dogs get neutered or spayed, not even the two pugs who lived indoors. So, naturally, puppies happen. Thomas writes about at least four litters that her unsupervised female dogs endure.
The most upsetting story that Thomas includes is an afternoon spent walking the neighborhood with her little dingo, Viva. Viva is only a few months old at the time and had just entered her first heat. Thomas says she was walking slowly with Viva when, out of nowhere, an English springer spaniel comes bounding over the fence and attaches himself to Viva. Viva is scared, Thomas writes, cries through the whole experience and never indicated that she wanted this dog’s amorous attention. “I realized dogs could rape,” Thomas concludes after this little anecdote–as if she was free of blame from the entire incident. On the contrary, Thomas is the only one who should feel guilty here. First, she never spayed her dog. Second, she had the idiocy to take her dog, unleashed, on a walk around the neighborhood while the dog was in her first heat. Third, she just stood there and watched while her dog got raped. The springer, though aggressive, was just doing what dogs do. Thomas, who should have had some foresight as the rational animal in this situation, appears neglectful, irresponsible, and downright stupid.
Viva has her puppies when she is just a puppy herself, just over 8 months old, and suffers through labor, as Thomas depicts it. Viva does not seem to be an instinctively competent mother, something which Thomas pities her for. Another bitch in the house, Koki, gets impregnated by another one of Thomas’s huskies around this same time. Koki is more confident, Thomas asserts, and a higher-ranking female in the household. One day, Thomas comes home and finds the house eerily still. None of the dogs will greet her. She goes upstairs and she finds Koki in Viva’s litter, holding one of Viva’s pups in her mouth. All but one of Viva’s pups are dead. Koki, apparently, is responsible for the deaths of these puppies. This is a horrific incident–and again, one that could have been avoided if Thomas had been a responsible dog owner. Instead, she justifies Koki’s infanticide with Koki’s belief that these lower-ranking puppies had to die so that her own puppies could succeed. I don’t know how I’d characterize Koki’s motives in killing another dog’s puppies, but I feel like this is a stretch without any evidence.
In a related point, my other big issue with this book is Thomas’s gross anthropomorphism of her dogs. I suppose this can only be expected, since Thomas is herself a respected anthropologist. But the motives and emotions she assigns to her dogs are almost always human motives and emotions and impossible to prove. She rarely gives any supporting behavioral or physical evidence that this emotion is, conclusively, what the dog was thinking or planning; rather, she just “knows.” I find this highly suspect.
Toward the end of the book, Thomas and her family move to a spacious property in Virginia where she builds a large, fenced enclosure for her remaining pack to live outdoors. She begins to lose daily contact with her dogs and, unsurprisingly, they become increasingly wild and wolf-like.
Thomas’s conclusion is that dogs don’t want or even necessarily need people in their lives. I think this is a ridiculous notion. The only reason Thomas reached this conclusion is because she was letting her dogs live like wolves by the end of the book. Of course they weren’t acting like dogs; dogs, as we know them, are defined by their dependence upon and relationship with humans. Not so for wolves–or, apparently, for Thomas’s wolf-like pack of huskies. Wolves don’t need people just like Thomas’s dogs didn’t need people. These animals were not acting like dogs. They dug an enormous den and tunnel system for their private use, bred as they pleased, and generally ignored Thomas’s existence.
She turned her dogs back into wolves and then somehow claims to have mystic insight into the lives of dogs. Hardly. The only thing Thomas uncovered was that, if left to their own devices, a pack of 10 huskies will devolve into animals with wolf-like natures and behaviors. They will be barely recognizable as dogs, because, for all intensive purposes, they’re not really dogs anymore.
If it’s not already clear, I have little respect for Thomas as a dog owner and as an observer of canine behavior. I think she ran an interesting experiment with her dogs and drew some misapplied conclusions from that experiment. Were her dogs happy? Yes, I think so. But they weren’t really dogs. For Thomas to claim to have some hidden insight into the lives of dogs is woefully inaccurate. But to have insight into the lives of dogs turned back into wolves? Well, then maybe. If that’s what you’re interested in, then this is the book for you. If you’re actually interested in dogs, save your time.