Are Dogs in a New Phase of Evolution?

 

Michael Baugh CDBC

You may have seen the headline: “Dogs are Entering a New Phase of Evolution.” The hoopla is over the discovery that some dogs have a genetic variant that makes their oxytocin receptors more sensitive. Linköping University in Sweden did the study. Dogs given a nasal spray of the hormone oxytocin were more likely to seek help from their owners in solving a puzzle. Oxytocin facilitates social bonding, among other things. It’s often misnamed “the love hormone.” The implication: dogs with enhanced oxytocin receptors seek help from their humans, suggesting an evolutionary shift towards dog-human bonding. I can see how folks might make that connection. But it’s a small, preliminary study. Calling this a new phase of evolution might be a stretch. We will see.

One thing we know for sure. Human expectations of dogs have changed. We changed the playing field for dogs a lot.

As recently as the 1990s, most dogs in America lived outside. They caught rats and scared off potential intruders (and neighbor kids and postal carriers). Rural dogs guarded and herded livestock. If a dog slept in your bed, you’d likely wake up with fleas and ticks on you.

When Dr. Ian Dunbar founded the Association of Pet Dog Trainers in 1993, he called pet dog training a specialty. (APDT later re-named itself The Association of Professional Dog Trainers). Dunbar was ahead of the curve. So was John Katz when he wrote his prescient book, The New Work of Dogs, in 2004. “Dog training was little known and little needed, since most dogs merely wandered their neighborhoods and were seldom walked on leashes.” Katz predicted the shift in how dogs would soon fit into the human condition. It had already begun, in fact. Leave the rats and the sheep outside. Invite the dogs in. They were family. Emotional surrogates. Our friends, counselors and confidants.

Katz’s worst predictions also came true. The world changed quickly, and it’s still changing. Human psychology researchers suspect (I think rightly) that we’ve changed technology and social pressures faster than we can keep up. Humans have outpaced our own evolution. We’ve become divisive and isolated. The resulting pressure on our dogs was inevitable. Our powerful hunters and herders now wear clothes. Dogs who retrieved fowl and repelled interlopers are our emotional caregivers. They used to be in the background, outside. Now they are the center of our worlds. It might be too much for them. The evolutionary shift isn’t coming fast enough – for them or us.

An old mentor once said dog breeders could put aggressive dog trainers like me out of business if they started selecting for temperament instead of looks. It’s true. After all, we bred dogs for hunting and herding and guarding. Plus fear, the fuel of aggressive behavior, is heritable in dogs. Why not breed for nicer dogs who can fit into our families better? Fair enough. Breeders have been doing their part. We may not be in a new era of dog evolution. It’s likely we are seeing the results of selective breeding for calmer, more biddable dogs. That is good news, no matter what you call it.

But breeding is not enough.

I started my dog training career in 1999. For well over two decades, my work has been about helping dogs and people understand each other better. It’s been less about militaristic obedience and more about cooperation. Let’s be honest. We are living in a stressful time. The human condition is beautiful but also hard. Teaching a dog how to thrive in our complicated human world can be equally beautiful, and also hard.

We have a long history, we humans and dogs. Fossil records show we have co-evolved for the past 14,000 years. We’ve been in this together. We still are. Oxytocin plays a role and probably has for a long time. If you and your dog spent a few minutes looking lovingly at each other (I recommend it), you would both have increased levels of oxytocin in your bloodstream compared to the baseline levels before you started ogling. And if some dogs are developing better receptors, so be it.

But more oxytocin alone may not be the magic formula. Oxytocin does many things in human bodies. It assists with uterine contractions (the childbirth kind and the monthly kind). It’s also responsible for lactation in new mothers. Oxytocin shows up in men too, enhancing connections with mates and offspring. Like most good things, though, there are side effects. Oxytocin apparently causes in-group bias and increased agitation and aggression toward out-group members. What does that mean? People (and presumably dogs) juiced up on oxytocin may groove on their family and friends, but may also be more likely to shun or attack those who are outside their primary group. Trust me, your dog trainer who specializes in aggression is not excited about that part.

What do we do with all this information? My Latin teacher in high school would say, “jot it down in your gee whiz notebook.” It’s fun stuff, but it won’t show up on any test. Hormones and other neurochemicals are a fascinating, ever-changing soup. We know a little about it. And there is so much more to learn. They definitely play a role in behavior change and a good board certified veterinary behaviorist can help. Genetics plays a role too. Genes are not written in indelible ink. We are learning more about that every day. The environment activates many genes and leaves others quiet. There’s so much more to learn about the genetics of behavior. We’ll uncover that information in time, I’m sure.

Evolution is the slow and steady work of genes. The really good variations get passed on when the organism reproduces. Adaptation results from trial and success. So does learning. It’s the result of trial and success. And, oh my, are our dogs exceptionally developed learners. Learning: dogs have that one nailed.

That’s the true work of dogs. Isn’t it? Learning new skills, new variations on a theme, new ways to live with us. (Oh, we are so unpredicable, we humans). And what about us? What’s the new work of humans? Breathe. Stay present. Be kind to ourselves and others. Those come to mind. Then, ogle at your dog and show him how to be a champ at life with you and the crazy world around him.

 

Michael Baugh specializes in Aggressive Dog Training in Sedona, Arizona and Houston, Texas.

Jealousy and Dog on Dog Aggression

Michael Baugh CDBC

Jealousy is a complex cluster of emotions: anger, fear, uncertainty, and insecurity. If you ask a jealous person what they are feeling, they might have a hard time telling you because they aren’t sure themselves. There’s too much to unpack.

So, what about our dogs? Well, they can’t talk at all. Most of us can tell when a dog is angry. We can see fearful behavior. There are even visible signs of uncertainly and insecurity. Is that jealousy? I think the label is a hard fit for dogs. And I’m not a fan of labels in the first place.

Behavior, in this case dog behavior, is all about verbs. That dog lunged. One dog bit the other. My dog tucked his tail and lowered his head. We observe behavior, identify when it occurs, and then work to change it. Feelings change when behavior changes. We know that for a fact. Is my dog jealous? I don’t know. Regardless, let’s teach him a new pattern of behavior and hope that he feels better.

Most dog fights start over food or food-relate objects. I’ve seen it in street dogs around the world. My dog has guarded treats and bones. Hundreds of clients’ dogs have clashed this way. It’s commonly called resource guarding.

Resource guarding can spread. A dog might aggress toward a housemate dog over a prized sleeping spot, a crate, or a sofa. One’s dog might guard a caregiver and not let another dog approach. Some dogs become sensitive to another dog approaching their own personal space, no matter where they are.

After two dogs have fought a few times, there is a chance they will become so agitated that they fight on sight. The history becomes thick with anger and pain. They simply don’t like each other.

These cases are hard to resolve, not impossible.

Keep the dogs separate unless in a controlled training exposure. We want to protect them from their own unacceptable behavior. When they fight again, they just get better at fighting. It’s up to us to prevent fights at all costs.

Teach calm behavior. A dog who is physically relaxed (example: lying comfortably on a mat) is less likely to behave aggressively.

Safely expose the dogs to each other at a distance while reinforcing relaxed behavior. Progress incrementally.

This is a very abbreviated description of the process. Work with a qualified trainer to do it correctly and to get support along the way. The process is straightforward, but it is certainly not easy. Get help.

Do I think dogs get jealous? Gosh, that’s a hard one. I really focus on the more basic emotions that are linked to observable behavior. Keep it simple.

If using the word jealousy plays a role, maybe it is this. We humans can all relate to feeling threatened. We may fear that another person is going to take what is ours (money, status, a lover). It’s an unsettling feeling. We may become angry. It’s likely we will feel some enmity toward that person. When we share our feelings with a friend, they may say, “You’re jealous.” It’s possible that defining our dog’s behaviors as jealousy opens the door to empathy. We get it. We’ve felt that terror, that confusion, that rage.

Here we stand on common ground with our dog. “You’re having some big complicated feelings, dog. I’ve had those, too. Let me help you.” If a flimsy label (jealousy) leads to empathy, I’m all for it. Stand tall on that common ground. Step up and help you dog, because you know how awful it feels and how unnecessary that behavior is. Who better than you to help? You understand. You’re smart. And you got this.

 

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Arizona and Texas. He specializes in aggressive dog training. 

The Curse of the Mythic Dog

Michael Baugh CDBC

 

Charlie is a perfect dog. That hasn’t changed.

The only thing that’s changed is my perspective. I fell into the trap of thinking Charlie a mythical creature more than a dog. We all do it to some extent. We tell stories to ourselves about our dogs that make them sound like heroes in a Disney film rather than actual thinking, feeling animals.

We make believe they would never growl, never snap, never bite. Sometimes we even ascribe special qualities to them: healing powers, psychic energy, a sixth sense. Magic. We’re human. We make stuff up, even when the truth is already amazing.

What makes the typical dog so exceptional is that he is a typical dog. Dogs are so cool because they want to be with us. Dogs think. They learn. They have emotions. We learn from them. Dogs and humans develop relationships and friendships with each other. Wow! How magical is that?

Dogs also have limits, just like we do. Our dogs get tired, they get sore and achy. Some of our dogs have phobias. Some have survived trauma, physical or mental. Many need our help to navigate the human world (it’s complicated).

If we are being honest, we push our dogs to their limits and put them under pressure. We cast them as mythic dogs, fly them on planes, take them to restaurants, shop and hike and swim with them. We make them our emotional support and forget (sometimes) that they need our support.

I forgot.

After a long day of climbing red rock trails, Charlie snapped at another dog in the dog park. No one was hurt. Four days later, he went after my nephew’s puppy, Lucky. I expected Charlie to bounce back, to re-engage Lucky. He didn’t. Charlie stayed angry. I’d once called Charlie the most behaviorally sound dog I’d ever met. Now, we had a problem.

Lucky is only fourteen-weeks old. She was so cooperative. Charlie, Lucky, and I got to work. We made some progress. Of course, there is more work to do. I have more work to do.

It falls on us humans. This is our responsibility. Charlie was having a hard time. We’d been on a long trip together, flights and days in the car. He’d been to so many places, slept in so many hotels, and now we were at the busy family home in Albuquerque. He was fatigued. I’d pushed him too hard. He was (and is) still a perfect dog. But he wasn’t some Disney character. Perfect dogs need our help. Charlie needs mine.

That’s the way I like to think about it. It’s what I teach my clients. Our dogs aren’t bad. They aren’t defective. Perfect dogs behave in very typical ways, sometimes in ways we don’t like. They need our help. We are presumably the more intelligent species. Who better to help them? We also have the resources to guide them. Again, who better?

Who better, indeed? I do this for a living.

After twenty-two days of travel, we returned home late on a Wednesday Night. Charlie cuddled in close and fell into a deep sleep. Dogs are amazing, so resilient, so willing to learn and bond. I’ll watch out for you, little buddy. We did a lot on this trip. You did great. I’ll do better. It’s up to me to watch out for your needs, food, water, affection. Rest. I got your back, Charlie. I promise.

The Mythic Dog. How wrong I’ve been. My dog. Your dog. They are already more than we could ever imagine. How typical. We miss what’s right before our eyes.

I kiss his forehead. Good night, Charlie.

 

Michael teaches dog training in Arizona and Texas. He specializes in aggressive dog training.