Clever Dog: Understand What Your Dog is Telling You. Sarah WhiteheadЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Case history: Dave, the fearful German Shepherd

      Dogs talk. There’s little doubt about that. However, on the whole, humans are bad at listening. From the owner who complains that their dog looks guilty when they come home to find their sofa chewed, to the person who is shocked that their dog was wagging its tail while barking aggressively at a visitor, miscommunication is rife.

      In order to live with us peacefully, dogs have to learn about the oddities of human behaviour: the fact that we wave our arms about when we speak, that we like to greet each other by hugging (a sexual or threatening gesture to a dog) and that we disregard olfactory communication almost entirely (probably best).

      However, in return, not many humans bother to learn ‘canine’ as a foreign language. This is a shame, because dogs communicate in ways that we can hardly conceive. For example, they can register huge amounts of information from scent – gleaning messages about another dog’s sexual status and health, and how long ago they were in town – in much the same way as we get information from reading a newspaper. While this may be out of our range, watching dogs and reading them is not – and it’s something that’s addictive when you know what you are looking for.

      Just like us, dogs can use both long-distance and intimate communication to express themselves. While we might plaster words on an advertising billboard or make a phone call to get our message across great distances, dogs use scent and big visual signals to communicate over time and space. Ever seen a dog scratch up the area where he has just urinated or defecated? He’s leaving a clear visual marker to emphasise his olfactory point. Ever listened to a dog barking or howling and heard another one reply? He’s just made a long-distance call.

      In common with humans, dogs use subtle facial expressions and body language to communicate close up. Some expressions are remarkably similar to ours, and need little or no interpretation. Despite huge variation in the physical appearance of dogs, no matter what their sizes and shapes, we can all recognise a dog that looks miserable, is sad or in pain. Equally, we can assume that a dog with his ears up, his face rounded and relaxed, and his mouth pulled back into a ‘grin’ is showing happiness – just as we do (although most of us manage without moveable ears).

      Some of the other signals that dogs use to communicate may not be quite so obvious to us. A micro-expression is a brief, involuntary facial expression or body movement, which reveals the emotional state hidden inside. In humans, this is most noticeable when someone is trying to conceal how they are feeling and a tiny, almost imperceptible change of expression gives it away. In dogs, there is no attempt at concealment but they can act and move much faster than us so the change can be a subtle micro-expression: a fleeting second of stillness, a tiny turn of the ear, a slight widening of the gaze or the closing of a muzzle can all give us clues as to how they are feeling.

      Dave was brought to me by his worried owner. At the age of two, he had been re-homed from the local rescue centre where he had been living for some fifteen months. A handsome dog, Dave had been out to a new home and then back to the rescue centre several times. Panting heavily, he sat in my office like a dog on hot coals, watching every move I made. His face was a picture of stress and anxiety, his skinny body hunched and rounded, his tail tucked under. I hate seeing dogs like this. It’s a miserable state to be in, and although we might have to accept it once in a while when the dog is ill or has to undergo veterinary treatment, there is something deeply disturbing about seeing a dog so unhappy most of the time.

      George had now owned Dave for nearly five months. He had kept German Shepherds in the past, and lost his heart to this big dog he had found in the rescue centre where he was a volunteer dog walker. Dave had come into the kennel environment as a nervous but testosterone-charged adolescent. He was big and out of control, with no manners and no training. He jumped at everybody, and wrenched their shoulders out of their sockets when they tried to walk him. Worse, he began to hover in the back of the kennel then launch himself forwards with a volley of barking – enough to send all but the most experienced staff scurrying for safety. He hated being handled, and would put his jaws on anyone who tried. His future didn’t look good.

      Like any other animal, dogs are programmed to ensure their own survival. When faced with an immediate threat, the brain doesn’t take the time to ponder carefully all the possible outcomes of the situation but simply kicks into survival mode and causes the animal to react. This state is one we can all relate to. Nearly all of us have had an incident in our lives when we were scared and simply reacted out of self-preservation. Perhaps you have had a near-miss (or should that be near-hit?) car accident. Perhaps someone has threatened you, or you have been frightened by an animal (albeit a spider in the bath). On these occasions, the basic, most primitive part of your brain – known as the amygdala – simply takes over in order to keep you safe. Instead of information being transmitted to your cortex – the thinking, cognitive bits of your brain that allow you to do Sudoku puzzles and decide what to have for lunch – a message goes directly to your amygdala in what is described as the ‘fast and dirty’ route to reaction. It is your amygdala that makes you leap out of the way of a falling tree branch, swerve to avoid that oncoming car, and swiftly jerk your hand away from the bath plug when you notice the spider.

      The way an animal acts when under pressure will depend on a number of different factors: the species, the type or breed, the individual temperament or personality of the animal, its previous history and emotional state, and the circumstances of the actual event. The coping strategy an animal uses in a moment of crisis is one of what we call the ‘four Fs’. We have all heard of ‘flight’ and ‘fight’ – the strategies of running away or engaging in conflict – but there are two more Fs: ‘freeze’ and ‘flirt’. Freeze is the most common reaction to threat but as it is often fleeting and humans are poor at noticing it, it is frequently overlooked. Flirt is commonly seen too. Just think about a dog that would prefer you didn’t look in its ears; instead of putting up a fight or running off, it runs around manically, brings you a toy or leaps about like a puppy.

      Your amygdala is your greatest friend. It keeps you safe and sometimes saves your life. Unfortunately, it can also become your worst enemy. Watching a scary horror movie might make you jump during the film, but afterwards – when your amygdala is still wired – it can make you leap out of your skin at the imagined sound of a footstep on the stairs. Over-activating the brain and body’s flight or fight responses leads to over-activation of the brain’s recognition of threat signals, and if this situation becomes chronic, it can lead to weight loss, immune deficiencies, stomach disorders and skin problems.