Read Online Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know by Alexandra Horowitz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alexandra Horowitz
Tags: General, science, Psychology, Pets, Dogs, Breeds, Life Sciences, Cognitive Psychology, Dogs - Psychology, Zoology
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dogs, the motion is not only noticed, it is directly connected to another tendency: to pursue prey that moves in just that way. And, of course, one must have birds or birdlike things around for this tendency to lead to bird chasing.
Similarly, a sheepdog who will spend his life herding sheep is one who has a certain set of specific tendencies: to notice and keep track of individuals of a group, to detect the errant motion of a sheep moving away from the herd, and to have a drive to keep the herd together. The end result is a herding dog, but his behavior is made up of piecemeal tendencies that shepherds direct toward controlling their sheep. The dog must also be exposed to sheep early in his life, or these propensities wind up being applied not to sheep, but in a disorganized way to young children, to people jogging in the park, or to the squirrels in your yard.
A dog breed that is called aggressive, then, is one that might have a lower threshold to perceive and react to a threatening motion. If the threshold is too low, then even neutral motion—approaching the dog—may be perceived as threatening. But if the dog is not encouraged to follow through on this tendency, it is quite likely that he will never exhibit the aggression that his breed is notorious for.
Knowing the breed of a dog gives us a first-pass entry into understanding something about the dog before we have even met the dog. But it is a mistake to think that knowing a breed guarantees that it will behave as advertised—only that it has certain tendencies. What you get with a mixed-breed dog is a softening of the hard edges seen in breeds. Temperaments are more complex: averaged versions of their bred forebears. In any event, naming a dog's breed is only the beginning of a true understanding of the dog's umwelt, not an endpoint: it doesn't get to what the dog's life is about to the dog.
ANIMALS WITH AN ASTERISK
It's snowing and dawn is breaking, which means we have about three minutes for me to get dressed and get us into the park to play before the snow is trammeled by other merrymakers. Outside, well bundled, I plow clumsily through the deep snow, and Pump hurtles herself through it with great bounds, leaving the footprints of a giant bunny. I plop down to make a snow angel, and Pump throws herself down beside me and seems to be making a snow-dog angel, twisting to and fro on her back. I look to her with complete joy at our shared play. Then I smell a horrible odor coming from her direction. The realization is quick: Pump's not making a snow-dog angel; she's rolling in the decaying carcass of a small animal.
There is a tension between those who consider dogs wild animals at their core and those who consider dogs creatures of our own making. The first group tends to turn to wolf behavior to explain dog behavior. The recently popular dog trainers are admired for their full embrace of the wolf side of dogs. They are often seen mocking the second group, which treats their dogs as quadrupedal, slobbery people. Neither has got it right. The answer is plumb in the middle of these approaches. Dogs are animals, of course, with atavistic tendencies, but to stop here is to have a blinkered view of the natural history of the dog. They have been retooled. Now they are animals with an asterisk.
The inclination to look at dogs as animals rather than creations of our psychology is essentially right. To avoid anthropomorphizing, some turn to what might be called unsympathetic biology: a biology free of subjectivity or such messy considerations as consciousness, preferences, sentiment, or personal experiences. A dog is but an animal, they say, and animals are but biological systems whose behavior and physiology can be explained with simpler, general-purpose terminology. Recently I saw a woman leaving the pet store with her terrier, who himself was newly shod in four tiny shoes—to prevent his bringing the street filth into her house, she explained, as she pulled him
Similarly, a sheepdog who will spend his life herding sheep is one who has a certain set of specific tendencies: to notice and keep track of individuals of a group, to detect the errant motion of a sheep moving away from the herd, and to have a drive to keep the herd together. The end result is a herding dog, but his behavior is made up of piecemeal tendencies that shepherds direct toward controlling their sheep. The dog must also be exposed to sheep early in his life, or these propensities wind up being applied not to sheep, but in a disorganized way to young children, to people jogging in the park, or to the squirrels in your yard.
A dog breed that is called aggressive, then, is one that might have a lower threshold to perceive and react to a threatening motion. If the threshold is too low, then even neutral motion—approaching the dog—may be perceived as threatening. But if the dog is not encouraged to follow through on this tendency, it is quite likely that he will never exhibit the aggression that his breed is notorious for.
Knowing the breed of a dog gives us a first-pass entry into understanding something about the dog before we have even met the dog. But it is a mistake to think that knowing a breed guarantees that it will behave as advertised—only that it has certain tendencies. What you get with a mixed-breed dog is a softening of the hard edges seen in breeds. Temperaments are more complex: averaged versions of their bred forebears. In any event, naming a dog's breed is only the beginning of a true understanding of the dog's umwelt, not an endpoint: it doesn't get to what the dog's life is about to the dog.
ANIMALS WITH AN ASTERISK
It's snowing and dawn is breaking, which means we have about three minutes for me to get dressed and get us into the park to play before the snow is trammeled by other merrymakers. Outside, well bundled, I plow clumsily through the deep snow, and Pump hurtles herself through it with great bounds, leaving the footprints of a giant bunny. I plop down to make a snow angel, and Pump throws herself down beside me and seems to be making a snow-dog angel, twisting to and fro on her back. I look to her with complete joy at our shared play. Then I smell a horrible odor coming from her direction. The realization is quick: Pump's not making a snow-dog angel; she's rolling in the decaying carcass of a small animal.
There is a tension between those who consider dogs wild animals at their core and those who consider dogs creatures of our own making. The first group tends to turn to wolf behavior to explain dog behavior. The recently popular dog trainers are admired for their full embrace of the wolf side of dogs. They are often seen mocking the second group, which treats their dogs as quadrupedal, slobbery people. Neither has got it right. The answer is plumb in the middle of these approaches. Dogs are animals, of course, with atavistic tendencies, but to stop here is to have a blinkered view of the natural history of the dog. They have been retooled. Now they are animals with an asterisk.
The inclination to look at dogs as animals rather than creations of our psychology is essentially right. To avoid anthropomorphizing, some turn to what might be called unsympathetic biology: a biology free of subjectivity or such messy considerations as consciousness, preferences, sentiment, or personal experiences. A dog is but an animal, they say, and animals are but biological systems whose behavior and physiology can be explained with simpler, general-purpose terminology. Recently I saw a woman leaving the pet store with her terrier, who himself was newly shod in four tiny shoes—to prevent his bringing the street filth into her house, she explained, as she pulled him
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