dog books

Your Dog Is Your Mirror

Pam Hogle Barkshelf ,

The marketing and jacket copy for Your Dog Is Your Mirror, by Kevin Behan talk about the human-dog connection and tout the author’s rejection of the dominance-focused training model he learned from his father. They also swoon over the author’s amazing insights. Sadly, the book does not live up to its marketing.

While Behan says he has rejected a dominance-focused force training approach (except for Schutzhund training), he does not propose an alternate method of training or address training methodology much at all. The bulk of the book is given over to a novel and bizarre theory that Behan devised at the age of 23, having (according to him) read and rejected everything that biology and behavioral science — and his father, a leading dog trainer of the time — had to say about dog behavior and training. One morning, as he was letting the dogs his father boarded out of their kennels, he had the epiphany that “None of the dogs were entertaining any intention whatsoever, even though many looked as if they had the specific intent and goal of getting outside, and some appeared to understand what I expected of them … I now knew there was no intention in anything a dog might do.”

Instead, he posits, everything a dog does is a reflection of the owner’s emotions, both present and past, conscious and unconscious, and in fact, could be a reaction to any experience the owner has ever had. He even explains away the idea that a dog could ever feel aggression toward him (or anyone), stating instead that “when a dog went to bite me, I could see that the dog didn’t intend to hurt me, dominate me, or defend himself or his territory … there was something positive about me the dog was attracted to. The dog had no goal: he was simply attracted to me with a force of desire that for some reason was blocked, hence the aggression.” He does not, however, tell readers what he might have been feeling that could have triggered the dog’s behavior.

Behan rejects any notion that a dog can form intentions or even think. In fact, he utterly rejects the idea of dogs as individuals. Therefore, the canine perspective is completely absent from this book; Behan simply denies that it exists. A dog is “not an individuated consciousness, endowed with her own will that’s empowered by personal volition and informed by a self-contained sense of self or ego,” he writes. He adds that no animals can think, claiming instead that their entire consciousness is formed by something he calls a “networked intelligence,” defined as “a higher faculty of intelligence that in animal consciousness completely supersedes the brain.” Bizarrely, that would appear to rule out instinct, too, as a driver of canine behavior. Behan explains any dog’s behavior, no matter how complex, as a function of what its owner is feeling

Despite having worked with, in his own estimation, several thousand dogs, Behan provides few examples to illustrate his theories. The anecdotes he does give are “as told to him” by training clients, not behaviors he personally witnessed. Nonetheless, he feels confident enough in his theories to determine that one client’s dog reportedly habitually left a bit of food in his bowl because the dog’s owner always leaves some food on her plate; the dog is connecting with whatever emotional issue causes the owner to do so. Another client’s dog is aggressive toward children because, Behan discovers, the owner feels lasting pain and guilt over having “not been there” for her daughters when they were young, many years earlier.

Much of the book is a sort of memoir and retelling of his “discoveries” about dog consciousness; there is also considerable psycho-analysis of the humans who own the dogs he trains. The book does not address multiple-dog households where each dog has a very different personality and behaviors, nor does it explain how to apply Behan’s theory to dogs who live and interact with multiple humans. There is no index and no references, making it hard to find specific information.

While I agree with the author that emotion is a primary driver of dog (as well as human) behavior, I strongly disagree that it is the dog owner’s emotion that is solely responsible for the dog’s behavior. I also completely reject any notion of dogs that denies their considerable cognitive abilities, including thinking and planning and, yes, forming intentions. Dogs are separate beings from us, not merely empty vessels that reflect the worst of our emotional pasts back to us. They are brilliant and intuitive beings who deserve to be loved and valued for the individuals they are. Regarding them as our “mirrors” — as extensions of ourselves — is arrogant and egocentric and a terrible disservice to all dogs.

Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know

Pam Hogle Barkshelf ,

A longtime New York Times bestseller, Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz clearly has mainstream appeal; it is thoroughly enough referenced and indexed to appeal to canine professionals as well. The author, a psychologist and animal behaviorist, is no stranger to scientific research, and is a lifelong dog owner and dog lover.

The book is informative and entertaining, and it offers insights that will promote greater human understanding of dogs. It concludes with a strong chapter that suggests ways humans can relate better to the dogs in their households. The book also does an outstanding job of describing dogs’ sensory experience of the world, devoting nearly 100 pages to the subject.

But in its claim to present the canine perspective, the book gets a mixed review. Horowitz does decode some situations according to a canine point of view — her discussion of doggy raincoats and the way that their tight embrace might make dogs feel “subdued” rather than protected is an amusing example. But in other examples, a strong anthropomorphic bias comes through. For instance, after lengthy and well-done sections describing dogs’ vision and how it differs from humans’ and explaining that smell is dogs’ primary source of information, Horowitz attributes her dog’s hesitance to enter an elevator to age-related deterioration of her vision or difficulty adjusting to low light after being outside. These are both reasons a human might hesitate. Possible reasons that consider dogs’ experience of the world — that the crevice between the floor and the elevator harbors many strange smells or an unpleasant memory of the moving floor (though this is unlikely in the case of Horowitz’s apartment-dwelling dog) — are not mentioned.

Horowitz displays her scientist roots in her reliance on research studies to draw conclusions, even when the studies are poorly designed, and even when real-life experience points to different conclusions. A study of dogs’ reactions to “emergency” situations is a prime example. In this study, humans set up a highly contrived scenario, first having owners introduce their dogs to a “friendly stranger” and then having the owners feign an emergency — a heart attack, for example. None of the dogs who were tested did what the humans wanted them to do (seek help from the “stranger”). Calling this a “clever” experiment, Horowitz draws the conclusion that dogs “simply do not naturally recognize or react to an emergency situation.” A more obvious conclusion, and one that gives more credit to the dogs’ intelligence, is that the dogs could tell that the people were faking — none of the scents and signals that indicate true alarm or physical dysfunction would have been present in the “actors.” Some dogs do, in fact, react to emergency situations, even when they have not been specifically trained to do so.

Horowitz relies exclusively on some studies that dogs “failed,” such as the mirror test for self-awareness and a test of whether dogs felt “guilt” if they “stole” a treat, in arriving at her limited conclusions about doggy consciousness and self-awareness. She fails to acknowledge (or notice?) that the tests cited are anthropocentric in design — that is, they test things that are relevant to people but not to dogs — and were conducted in unfamiliar, highly controlled environments where the dogs’ behavior would be far from natural. Other research showing strong evidence of dog self-awareness is not mentioned. Finally, and despite a section at the beginning of the book chiding scientists’ tendency to see one animal as representative of a species, she makes many broad statements about dog behavior that seem to be based on her observations of her one dog.

Overall, the book provides an excellent description of dogs’ sensory perceptions of the world and a wonderful guide to improving our treatment of dogs, but I think that its conclusions about dog behavior, consciousness, and self-awareness are questionable.

How the Dog Became the Dog

Pam Hogle Barkshelf , , ,

I am torn about recommending this book. On the one hand, there is a lot of information in this book, much of it firmly backed up with the latest scientific research. On the other hand, it is poorly organized and the editors seem to have been asleep at the keyboard. The same facts, anecdotes, and theories appear over and over again, making the book hard to follow and repetitive. Having been a student of Mark Derr’s in a graduate-level class on the history of dog breeds, I know that he has a lot of knowledge but is often disorganized in presenting it. This book reflects all of that.

What I like most about Derr’s presentation of the history of the dog’s evolution is the way he juxtaposes the various theories and points out where they overlap, where they contradict, and where they must obviously be incorrect. He does say that the theories are only scientists’ best guesses based on the archaeological and anthropological evidence available at the time they were generated — and offers his own interpretations and conjectures as to what might have happened.

I also enjoy Derr’s attempts to look at domestication from the dog/wolf’s viewpoint. As humans, we tend to look at things in the way that is most beneficial or complimentary to humans, but anyone who’s spent time with dogs knows that dogs are just as good at (or better at) “training” humans to behave in ways that benefit them as humans are at training dogs. Derr points out that domestication was a choice made by both parties and that benefits both — a partnership view of the human-dog relationship that seems more fair and honest than looking only at what humans can and do gain from living and working with the dog.

Much of the information in this book can be found in other books, but this book pulls it together and critically analyzes it in a new and interesting way. I recommend it as a resource for anyone who is seriously interested in studying and understanding dogs.

The Dog Who Danced

Pam Hogle Barkshelf , , ,

I am usually skeptical of books where the author speaks in the dog’s voice, but from its title, The Dog Who Danced, by Susan Wilson already had points in its favor. A book called The Dog That Danced might have languished, unread, on the shelf. And Wilson seems to get it. The dog, Mack / Buddy, is a Sheltie with a strong personality and viewpoint all his own. He’s believable. The  human characters are real, too.

During a cross-country drive, Mack gets separated from Justine, his person. The two have a very strong bond and are talented Canine Freestyle dancers. Their relationship is well-developed, explained well, and rings true. Mack is found by a couple, Alice and Ed, who have never quite gotten over the loss of their teenage daughter. Their initial hesitancy to get attached, and their growing, separate relationships with the dog, whom they call Buddy, also ring true. These are real people. They have all made poor decisions, lived with their mistakes and their regrets, and are trying in their oh-so-human way to move on and do better.

Mack / Buddy helps Ed and Alice work through their grief and anger with one another and move into a new beginning. He helps Justine cope with her dysfunctional family — her estranged son, her cold and selfish stepmother, her dying father. But he remains a real dog, though perhaps a better-behaved dog than most. His doggy thoughts and wants are plausible; he doesn’t have the cloying or idealized character of so many human-voiced dogs.

While there are certainly elements of the story and details that seem contrived, and it is a lightweight read, The Dog Who Danced is enjoyable and fun. I don’t want to give too much away, but I would unhesitatingly recommend this book to dog lovers and “non-dog” people alike.

Dog, Inc.: The Uncanny Inside Story of Cloning Man’s Best Friend

Pam Hogle Barkshelf , , ,

Journalist John Woestendiek’s Dog, Inc. traces the short history of dog cloning. Snuppy, the first “success, ” is not even six years old, after all. Woestendiek chronicles the dreams, heartbreaks, successes and many, many failures along the road to Snuppy’s birth and those of the clones who have followed. He describes the eccentric personalities and recounts the surprise of the first cloned cat, who looked (and behaved) nothing like the donor cat.

But the bigger story, what it takes to clone dogs, is what really makes this an important book: The hundreds of egg-donor dogs and surrogate mother dogs needed for each “success.” The invasive processes they endure — and their miserable lives in Korea’s dog farms and laboratories. The thousands of deformed and miscarried embryos and dead puppies. The 319 donors, 214 surrogates and astonishing 3656 implanted embryos that produced the first 16 cloned dogs and cats. The sad reality of the “extra” clones who, like Snuppy himself, have spent their entire lives in laboratory cages. Woestendiek draws a bleak picture of life for dogs in Korea, mentioning the hundreds of restaurants that offer dog meat on the menu and adding that the dog farms that exist to feed (literally) the demand are also a source of cheap egg  donor and surrogate mother dogs.

While Dog, Inc. gets off track sometimes, the writing is engaging and captures the full range of human foibles. It’s narrative journalism at its best. The story, though, is horrifying. How can anyone who loves dogs — or even anyone who loves his or her own dog beyond all reason — stomach the process of cloning dogs?

Woestendiek effectively debunks the usual rationale — that they’re going to get their beloved dog back. Cloning is reproduction, not resurrection. It creates an identical twin — same genes, different personality and behavior. Scientist Mark Westhusin, comments that “People get attached to their animals, and they want to sometimes see more than is there …”

This attachment is why people have been willing to fork over $150,000 for a clone of their beloved pet. Sometimes they get more (or less) than they bargained for. The owner of Booger, a pit bull who was cloned, ended up with five clones who fought with each other and her other dogs. “All I was trying  to do was have my Booger back … I have to say that cloning ruined my life,” she said to Woestendiek in one teary phone call.

While preying on the emotions of their wealthy clients, the scientists involved also reveal their true motivations: the drive to do something no one else has done, national pride, the potential for a lucrative commercial venture. These scientists are not cloning dogs out of love for dogkind. One produced 19 fluorescent green beagle pups. Why? Because his rival had produced glowing red beagle pups. Creating monster dogs for fun does not justify the pain and suffering these scientists cause.

Dogs, Inc. describes the current state of dog cloning and hints at its future. Will Korea’s commercial cloning venture take off of wither away into deserved failure? Woestendiek doesn’t prophesize, but this reader hopes that people who truly love dogs will see cloning for the travesty that it is and instead devote their time, love, and dollars to the millions of deserving dogs we already have in this country.

Saving Gracie

Pam Hogle Barkshelf , ,

The tiny Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppy with the checkmark “swoosh” on her leg started life like any other puppy — blind, deaf, seeking the warmth and nourishment her mother offered. Like too many other puppies, though, she was born in a puppy mill and was chosen for the worst possible fate — rather than being sold to a puppy broker or a family, she was chosen to be a breeder.

Gracie, as she eventually was named, spent about five years inside of a metal-grate cage, never feeling grass or even a regular floor. She was filthy, constantly hungry, and in pain from an eye problem that would plague her throughout her life.

Author Carol Bradley, an award-winning journalist, weaves Gracie’s story into her thorough and informative tale of American puppy mills. Packed with information, Saving Gracie chronicles the 2006 raid on a large Pennsylvania puppy mill where Gracie was one of 337 dogs removed to new lives. Bradley describes other puppy mill raids, tells the stories of heroic individuals who made these raids possible, and describes the scope of the problem and some of the ways dog lovers in Pennsylvania and nationwide are fighting the large-scale breeders who commit almost unimaginable cruelty in their greedy exploitation of dogs and pet-loving Americans.

Saving Gracie could be a difficult read; Bradley does not sugarcoat anything and the conditions that puppy mill dogs endure are as heart wrenching as they are stomach-turning. Yet, somehow, the book seems hopeful. Gracie finds a home with a loving and incredibly patient single mom, Linda. Once Gracie becomes indisputably Linda’s dog, the family adds two more retired breeding dogs. As awareness of puppy mills grows, the HSUS, ASPCA, and lawmakers in several states are beginning to take action. So much more is needed, but Bradley ends the book with a hopeful epilogue that lists some early successes.

Through her telling of Gracie’s story, and glimpses into the lives of other puppy mill rescues, Bradley explains the problems of puppy mill dogs, which begin with health problems but include lack of socialization, mistrust of humans, difficulty housebreaking, and a slew of behavioral problems that stem from the neglect and abuse the dogs suffered. While young puppies that are removed from the puppy mill escape the worst conditions early in their lives, they, too, suffer from health problems due to the filthy environment and congenital defects due to irresponsible breeding, and they are often poorly socialized.

Bradley does not paint all large-scale breeders as evil, carefully distinguishing between responsible breeders and puppy mills, and explaining the differences. She exposes other horrors, such as puppy auctions, that many readers might not know about. Without being pedantic or preachy, Bradley tells readers how to find puppies from responsible sources and what to look for in deciding where to purchase a dog. One by one, dog lovers can make a difference by refusing to buy puppy mill dogs and by supporting efforts to eradicate puppy mills. Saving Gracie is a heartwarming story of one dog’s rescue and a call to action for all readers.

Do Over Dogs

Pam Hogle Barkshelf , ,

For a relatively compact book (under 200 pages), Do Over Dogs: Giving Your Dog a Second Chance for a First Class Life packs in a wealth of information. Renowned positive trainer and author Pat Miller targets a broad audience of dog parents — and manages to hit the target dead on.

A Do Over Dog is any dog who has had “issues.” This can be a dog adopted from a shelter, whether the dog was surrendered due to behavior issues or turned in by a family facing financial hardship or by an owner who was relocating and “unable” to take the dog along (Miller points out that many of these owners choose not to take the dog because of a behavior problem). A Do Over Dog can also be a puppy mill rescue or a puppy bred in a puppy mill or elsewhere and simply not socialized adequately. The do-over can even be the dog you have lovingly raised from puppyhood but who has developed a problem behavior.

The dog’s issue might be a major problem, such as dog aggression, that demands years of work and constant management, or it might be something that was a deal-breaker to the dog’s former humans but that doesn’t bother you very much.

In short, since there are no perfect dogs (or owners) out there, whatever your dog’s background and behavior issue — and no matter how much or how little dog experience you have — you are sure to find valuable hints and advice in this book.

Miller does not promise quick or easy solutions to problems. Her emphasis on managing problems while working on resolving them, as well as her sober admission that some problems require lifelong management are strong indicators of her knowledge, experience — and commitment to the dogs. After all, if all she wanted to do was convince readers to adopt dogs, she’d make it all sound easy.

Instead, Miller emphasizes the need for consistency and points out many situations where the only way to address a problem is for the humans to change their behavior. She recommends enlisting a positive trainer for assistance with difficult issues and for some problems, suggests consulting with a behaviorist.

Miller provides clear explanations and training instructions for addressing several common problem behaviors, such as digging and property destruction, offers advice on reducing stress (the dog’s!) and anxiety, and offers her thoughts on medicating dogs to modify their behavior. She effectively explains why positive training methods, besides being the humane choice, are more effective in the long run in teaching dogs the behaviors we want and discouraging the ones we do not want. She presents the science behind different approaches to dog training in easy-to-understand language with examples all readers will relate to. Despite being jam-packed with information and advice, the book is not overwhelming, nor does it drown readers in jargon.

Do Over Dogs succeeds at what many dog books attempt —  presenting advice and information that is helpful and relevant to humans while respecting and explaining the dogs’ viewpoint.

Published by Dogwise Publishing, Wenatchee, Wash., 2010

Dog Walks Man: A Six-Legged Odyssey

Pam Hogle Barkshelf , ,

At first glance, a book about walking the dog might not sound very exciting. But, as a person who has written about dogs extensively and who has blogged about dog walking, I was intrigued. I picked up a copy, started reading, and was entranced.

Dog Walks Man: A Six-Legged Odyssey, by John Zeaman, is delightful! A collection of essays that is part memoir, part philosophy, and part social commentary, it has something to appeal to everyone. Zeaman, an art critic, has a warm writing style and a wry humor that makes a topic as ordinary as dog-walking almost poetic. I found myself nodding in agreement frequently and laughing out loud more than once.

Though he initially regarded the daily walks with his young standard poodle, Pete, as a chore, Zeaman describes the evolution of his attitude toward their nightly outings. I am sure that many dog owners can identify with his descriptions, and, I hope, with his ultimate realization that dog-walking provides access to pleasures that the dog-deprived miss. While there are certainly times that “having to” walk the dog feels burdensome, I find Jana’s and my morning walk-and-greet (I live in a neighborhood with many regular morning walkers, some accompanied by dogs, others there to admire my dog — that’s her take on it, anyhow) a genuine pleasure.

The fact that I agree with Zeaman’s view that dog-walkers should be in the moment, focused on the dog and the walk — not talking on their cell phones, shepherding children, and doing their errands at the same time — naturally added to my enjoyment of the book. But Zeaman’s philosophizing extends beyond a description of the ways that a daily walk enhances his relationship with his dog — he touches on people’s connections with nature, community relations, solitude and friendship, family dynamics, and the joys and responsibilities of dog ownership.

Anyone who has ever walked a dog will find something in this book that evokes a smile and a warm memory. And for readers who don’t have dogs? You’ll find out what you’re missing!