Well,
there really isn’t any nice way to say it.
The chances are extremely good that—oh, no, it’s true! Your dog has no respect for you at all. If it’s any consolation, I’m fairly persuaded
my dog Tinker hasn’t got a shred of respect for me--zero, zip, none. My cats almost certainly don’t, at least not
in any way that I can tell. I can’t be
entirely positive, of course, but I’d lay good money on it. Depending, of course, on what we mean by respect.
When
I Google the word, this is the sort of definition that pops up (heavily edited
for brevity): re·spect
(rəˈspekt/noun): a feeling
of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities,
qualities, or achievements. verb: admire (someone or
something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements. This sounds innocuous enough, I
reckon, suggesting that our pups and dogs ought to be looking up to us for our
hopefully amazing abilities, qualities or achievements. Except… Let’s assume that we as pet owners
actually have those amazing
abilities, qualities or achievements to look up to—we’ll just grant us that for
the sake of argument. That still leaves
us with two sticky wickets. First, our dogs have to have a feeling of “deep admiration.” Second, that feeling presumably leads to behaviors
that are different or better than the behaviors they would have if they didn’t have “deep admiration” for
us. Hmmm. Here’s where being a “science-based” trainer
becomes an entertaining exercise in critical thinking. It’s okay to assert something, but then there’s got to be testing. And evidence.
And proof. If we are making an
assertion that dogs have a feeling of
“deep admiration” (or anything else), then by golly, let’s get into dem brains
and find out where that feeling of
“deep admiration” occurs (which part of the brain), the neurotransmitters and
chemicals involved, the physiological changes and processes that take
place. Feelings of deep admiration (or anything else) are not based on
air, or smoke and mirrors. If some dogs
have “respect” and some dogs don’t, we need to be able to tell the
difference. A real difference. Because “feelings”—or more properly, emotions—are very much not
smoke-and-mirrors. As the work of Jaak Panksepp and
many other neurobiologists have shown in both human and non-animals, emotions
aren’t ephemeral “thought processes,” but very real and specific (though
complex) physiological responses that occur in very real and specific parts of
the brain—parts shared in common by many animals. Fear is a good example: we can evoke a strong fear response in a critter
by tweaking an electrode inserted in one part of the brain and get zero fear
response in animals if those parts of the brain are damaged or blocked by
drugs. It’s anatomical. It’s chemical. It’s not conceptual. What’s tricky here is remembering
that we—human beings—do have a
concept of respect. We have in our
brains giganto prefrontal cortexes that support exceptional capacities for
conceptual thinking. The concepts are
conceptual, but the actual physical brain anatomy that allows us to form them
is very, very real. Our dogs don’t share that anatomy. If a concept of “respect” dwells in that
highly developed portion of our brains, that’s not a portion of the brain found
in our dogs. In that case, we can’t get
no respect because the dogs ain’t got no anatomy to produce it. And this isn’t theoretical. In the age of amazing advances in
neuroscience, it’s testable. So here’s my first nifty tip for
training success (and good critical thinking.)
Behavior and anatomy are inextricably linked. If someone wants to make a claim about a
biological process (feeling, emotion, behavior, etc.)—show me the anatomy, baby.
No anatomy, no can do. Tinker
cannot fly without wings; my cats cannot breathe underwater without gills; I
cannot see ultraviolet light with unassisted human eyes. Anatomy rules and limits behavior
possibilities, including what we can think and how we can feel. If respect is an emotion
found in parts of the brain that we and dogs share, and not a concept formed in parts of the brain
that only we have, we should be able to locate the physiological processes in
the shared brain areas. We should see
these processes in “respectful” animals and not see them in “unrespectful”
animals. There should be
neurotransmitters, hormones, proteins in action, parts of the brain lighting up
during fMRI scans. In short, we should
be able to find “respect circuits” in a dog’s brain, just like we find “fear
circuits,” “joy circuits” and “rage
circuits.” Anatomy and anatomical
processes don’t have to be a subject for debate, opinion or someone’s appealing
marketing meme. We really do have livers
and leg bones and we can find and measure them.
If dogs have “deep feelings of admiration,” let’s find and measure the
anatomy that generates them. Until then… This isn’t a trivial point—far
from. The recent advances in
neuroscience and the rise of dogs as a sexy research subject has, in the last
decade, resulted in an explosion of studies, dog cognition groups, working dog
centers. Lots of extremely talented
researchers and scientists are at work exploring all kinds of thrilling
questions. We’re now reaching the point
where we really can start having interesting and intelligent conversations
about what’s going on inside the head of a dog—how they process information,
how they view their world, what lights their brains up. In casual terms, we can begin to have
sensible, evidence-based discussions about how they “think” and “feel.” This is a huge step forward in the field of
animal behavior, not just for the fascinating things we are learning, but for
the implications it will have in making us more effective as pet owners and trainers. It also has profound implications for animal
welfare, allowing us to become much better guardians and advocates because we
have real facts—real data—to base our efforts on. Very exciting stuff that deserves our close
and careful attention. But it’s hard to give it our close
and careful attention if we cling to old ideas, or lump the old (utterly
untested and probably wrong) ideas in with the new. We’re human, though, so very human, which
means when we make stunning discoveries that change our world-view—that the
earth is round, tiny microbes can cause disease and antibiotics can cure
them—we still have to go through several years of transition. New ideas don’t always sit well with old
sailors warning us about falling off the edge of the earth or encountering
dragons, or with crusty village apothecaries wanting to treat us with leaches
and bloodletting. Which leads me to our second sticky
wicket—if dogs do have some (yet unresearched) brain process that we could call
“respect,” it presumably will lead to respectful behaviors. Most especially,
such respect should lead to good
behaviors, the kinds of behaviors we like. The logic seems to be, “If your dog respects
you, he will DO or NOT DO behaviors x, y and z.” Automatically. All out of “respect.” And here I must make a confession about
something I find both peculiar and very telling. In over ten years of behavior
consulting with the public at the shelter, and in my private practice, the
number of folks who have had complaints about their dogs’ “respect” or lack
thereof have been very few indeed. Pet
owners with dog behavior problems do have real concerns, but they use a
different, more direct language. In all,
the vast majority of their concerns lump into three broad categories. 1. Their dog doesn’t listen to
them. (Doesn’t do behaviors they want
them to do, like come when called, or stop doing unwanted behaviors, like
jumping up.) 2. Their dog is “hyper.” (Has more energy than they expected or
appreciate, or issues with impulsiveness or attention-seeking.) 3. Their dog is “Alpha” or “dominant.” (Which usually means not getting along with
other dogs, and almost always, the dog is fearful.) The word “respect” doesn’t come out
of their mouths. So where oh where does this entirely unsupported, unproven and untested
notion of “respect” come from? In Part
Two, we’ll find out! |