THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

We all know the signs of imminent danger between two dogs right? Immobile stiff bodies, direct eye contact, round eyes. Except when dogs are playing and then the exact same postures and expressions are nothing but pauses between frolics. That is a perfect example of what’s called meta-communication, or communication about communication.

Here’s a video of Willie and his new friend, Leo–the new pup of Katie Martz here at the office–illustrating meta-communication as well as any two dogs could. I look forward to your comments about it.

First, some background: Yesterday they met for the first time, and it went beautifully. Katie stood 40 feet from the door with Leo as I let Willie out and asked him “Where’s the Dog?” We played tug when he looked at Leo and then back at me. After 2 subsequent “autowatches” in which Willie looked at Leo and looked back at me without prompting (and was reinforced with a tug game for it), I released Willie to go meet Leo. He immediately ran over to Leo, who pilo-erected the fur on a dorsal line from neck to tail a little bit, but stood his ground and allowed Willie to sniff him. After a few short seconds Leo relaxed as Willie sniffed him, and both Katie and I felt sure (we discovered later as we talked about it) that he was about to put his forepaws onto Willie’s back. I wasn’t sure how that would go over with Willie so I said “Go to the barn!” to keep their first greeting positive. It all happened so fast I was acting on gut feeling as much as anything else, having learned with Willie and hundreds of client’s dog to avoid extended greetings between dogs. So Willie dashed off toward the barn and their first encounter went well.

Quickly we moved into a fenced 3 acre pasture, and both dogs got to run together off leash. They played beautifully together, although Leo is too young and small to keep up with grown-up, long-legged Willie. There’s a lot going on in this short video, but first watch how Leo’s long play bows correlate with both dogs standing stock still and staring directly at each other. Those signals, normally signs of trouble are not a problem however, because as meta-communication, play bows signal the other dog that stiff bodies and direct stares are just in fun. Just as a football jersey means a tackle isn’t true aggression (okay, maybe American football is a bad example?!), play bows signal other dogs that any behavior to follow is meant as play. That’s why you see them most often between unfamiliar dogs as they begin to play together.

Watch as Leo does beautiful, clear play bows at second 8, 20 (behind my legs), 118, 126, 148 while he and Willie stand stock-still. I love how both dogs stay still until one does what’s called “start-stop,” that quick little lunge that elicits a reaction. (I do it myself to see what will happen at second 40.) (By the way, YouTube changed its settings–surprise, sigh–so you may see another video after the end of this one. Just ignore until we figure out how to change things around!)

Watch too how Leo runs to me and sits beside my legs at second 30. My interpretation of this behavior is that it’s done by dogs who are a bit intimidated by another. There is a great interaction between the dogs right after that, with Leo doing what looks like an abbreviated muzzle punch at second 33 and then licking Willie’s muzzle.

If you watch the video to the end you’ll see Leo squat and pee, and then turn and look back toward Katie. He’s learned if he pees outside he gets a treat, and boy did he learn that lesson well!

There’s lots going on in this video, I’d love to hear any of your comments about what else you might have observed. If you’d like to read more about play, you might want to go the section in the Reading Room on Play, or check out the Dog Play DVD or Play Together,  Stay Together about play between people and dogs. I’ll look forward to reading your comments, and not to mention welcoming Leo back to play with Willie.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: What a treat for it to be winter! If it’s going to be dark at night darn it, at least it can be crisp and pretty. And it is. I am loving the snow on the ground, although it is not much and melting fast. But it’s sunny and lovely and fresh and your boots crunch on the snow while the Chickadees call CHICKA-DEE-DEE-DEE from the woods. Time to take Willie boy and Tootsie girl on a walk. I hope you have some weather you can enjoy too.

Last week I posted a blog about giving our dogs more autonomy, and asked for comments about ideas on how to do so outside of working dogs on sheep. Many of the comments sent in response to that post are extremely helpful, and I encourage you to read through them. However, I know that time is short for many of us, so I’ve summarized some of the best ideas and some of my own this week.

First, as a preface, it is important to note that just like people, dogs vary tremendously in their desire for autonomy. Some dogs are extremely independent and others find too many choices burdensome. That’s why Willie stays in a crate when I’m gone. I am 100% sure that he is more comfortable in his ‘bedroom’ than being left loose in the house. When left loose he’s been a wreck when I returned home; no chewing or defecating, but wild-eyed and panicky. I believe that he perceives himself as “off-duty” in the crate, rather than responsible for alerting the household to noises and unexpected visitors. And who is to respond to his alerts if I am gone?  However… his is just the kind of personality that can gain confidence from having autonomy in other contexts. So, suggestion Number One: know your dog.

In addition, there are some contexts in which some dogs simply can’t be given free choice, whether it’s because they’d never coming back if running off leash in open areas, or you’re walking beside on a busy highway. Bottom line again: Know your dog.

With those caveats, here are some suggestions, especially for people whose dogs can never be off of a leash or line, for ways to give your dogs more choice.

1) Do ask: Ask yourself how often you can change from telling your dog what to do to, into asking your dog questions. Granted, there are plenty of times when we really do require our dogs to do what we say. (Thus, the title, “Do Ask, Do Tell.”) Example: I am not requesting Willie to respond when I say “Stand” (still). Sometimes it doesn’t matter if he listens to this cue, but other times it matters greatly (ie, several 150 pound battering rams (also known as sheep) about to run you over… it happens, believe me), so I need him to stop and stand still every time I say it. How would he know the difference between “you must” and “please” when only I know the context? I can’t imagine how you could mix and match the same cue to sometimes mean “you must” and other times mean “only if you feel like it.”

Job One then is to decide beforehand which cues you use that are not negotiable, and only use those when you expect a response. However, other cues aren’t necessarily that essential.

Here’s an example: When Willie and I play “Find It!” with his frisbee outside, after he’s had a good romp with it in his mouth, shaking and flipping it around. After a few minutes, I ask him to drop it so I can hide it for our Find It game. Although he’ll drop it on cue in other contexts, if we’re outside on the lawn he clearly wants me to throw it for him (I can’t cuz of his shoulder) rather than play Find It. So we’ve had a bit of a struggle when I say Drop It and he doesn’t. Actually, he’ll drop it, but when I reach for it he snatches it up in his mouth again. I’ve countered that by giving it right back to him when he does drop it, knowing that the best reinforcement for giving up the frisbee is getting it back again. I’ve also said “Okay, game over” in a cheerful voice and walked away if he won’t release the frisbee. That has helped, but not completely.

After I wrote the post on autonomy, I found myself watching him grab up the frisbee as I reached for it one morning and thought “Why not switch this around and give Willie the choice? It is a game for him after all.” So this time, rather than saying “Drop It,” I asked him if he was ready for me to take it. “Ready?” I said, and reached toward the disc. Nope, he wasn’t. He dipped his head and took the frisbee back in his mouth. “Okay, I said, no problem.” I stood in the same place, smiling and enjoying the sun shining through the clouds, and then said “Ready?” again. It was a sincere question. He was. When I reached for the toy this time, he watched me with shiny eyes, and stayed in place while I walked to the other side of the house and hid it for him to find. I can’t tell you if it made any difference to him, but it did to me, and that matters too. [Note: I can imagine a context in which Willie would have to drop an item for his own safety, say he picks up something poisonous. In this case I would say NO, which I use to mean absolutely cease and desist whatever you are doing this exact instant. I use it very rarely, and only when I really, really need it.]

2) Autonomy on Leash Walks: This is tricky, because no dog on a line can be truly autonomous. However, you can give him or her some choices:

- Several people noted that they let their dog set the pace. This is a great idea: who said that walking a dog meant keeping it from smelling interesting things? My favorite leash walk combines a) periods of brisk walking during which I get good exercise and Willie/Tootsie trots by my side ignoring all smells and b) the dogs setting the pace (and direction if possible) while I basically follow behind. If I’m getting antsy and Willie is still sniffing, I might say “Ready?” and as often as not he’ll stop sniffing and move forward. If he doesn’t, well then, he’s not ready. What’s important here is to be clear about which is which. Have a clear signal that means he’s following your lead, and a clear signal that means he’s in charge. Dogs learn the difference very fast.

- Explore the world with your dog by picking up things and asking your dog to sniff them. Try sniffing them yourself. I’ve seen dogs stop in their tracks and look you right in the eye as if surprised when you do this. “You? Smelling something? Really???? I didn’t know you could!” Of course, you know I don’t have a clue what your dog is thinking, but it’s fun to guess and even more fun to try to share their world a little bit. You can also hide treats in tree bark and later show your dog where they are. I learned this from Clarissa von Reinhardt’s book Chase, an excellent source of information regarding keeping a dog with you when off leash.

- Extra long leads or Flexi-lead-like leashes can also give your dog more choices. Like many trainers, I’m not a fan of flex-leashes in many contexts (training classes, vet visits, etc.) and don’t like that they teach the dog to habituate to a constant, although minor pulling sensation. That said, life just can’t always be perfect, and these kind of leashes can give lots of dogs some freedom when they would never have it otherwise.

3) Choices in the House: One commenter (thanks!) related this issue to environmental enrichment for wild animals in captivity. Several of the ideas mentioned included give your dog choices about the basics: two water bowls, several sleeping places, a range of toys, etc. You can also swap out toys: Willie must have 50 toys (sigh), but I only keep a limited number out at one time. That way they stay more interesting. Other variants of choices are asking your dog how they’d like to play. One reader has a dog who loves walks and ball play. She holds the leash in one hand and the ball in the other and does whatever he dog indicates with his nose. Great idea!

4) Fun with Food: Besides all the interactive toys that dogs can manipulate to get food, you can use the cheap, easy and always-enthralling method that I use every day with Tootsie. Because she would rather eat cat poop hidden like min-treasure chests in mulch, pine needles and straw, I let her come to the barn with us when I feed the sheep and cats. So I have taken to giving her a twice daily “treasure hunt” in a small fenced area that I call the “play pen.” I take a handful of kibble from her daily quota, and throw it as if I was scattering seeds. She then spends 10-15 minutes finding it, piece by piece, while Willie and I do the barn chores. She has a great time, her mouth doesn’t smell like cat poop, nor does she ingest heaven knows what. You may not have a fenced area, but you can do this inside too.

5) Honor your dog’s bark: This is a great reader comment that I completely support. Although we do have to be careful to not inadvertently reinforce barking, many dogs bark less if you acknowledge their alert signals and respond in some way to them. Willie could be a horrific barker, and I won’t pretend that there aren’t times he barks when I wish he wouldn’t, but like many of my client’s dogs, he calms down fastest if I acknowledge his barking. Just last night he lept up and began barking wild-eyed at the door to the garage. I went to him, asked him what was wrong and investigated. Sure enough, a side door was banging in the wind. I closed it, said “Hey, Willie, we’re fine,” and then took him into the living room. This won’t help with all dogs, but I envision lots of dogs screaming in frustration that their pack member is oblivious to their warnings or requests for assistance. Bottom line here: Barking isn’t always bad. (See more on this in Turid Rugaas’s book, Barking -  The Sound of a Language.)

5) Problem Solving: Some interactive food toys are in this category, but we can also ask our dogs to use their heads and solve other kinds of problems. Ask your dog to come to you with a barrier in between and help them learn to go around the side. Think of the world as an obstacle course and start asking your dog to go through, over and under objects both inside and outside of the house (with obvious concerns for safety). Some problem solving turns out to be a dog creating a new way of doing something. Here’s a great example: Finna’s owner wanted to teach her to  use a treadmill, but when Finna came up with a new way to do so, she was encouraged. Another reader has taught her dog the cue “Figure it out!” meaning: figure out yourself how to open this door, box, or get the food out of something. Problem solving at its best and too wonderful!

Another reader wrote about the body awareness work she is doing, in which a dog is asked to “Get on This” with all 4 paws, but ‘this’ is highly variable in terms of size, shape and surface. It’s the dog’s job to figure out how to get on and stay on. I love this kind of thinking… isn’t this what dogs who live freer lives would be doing all the time? Learning where one’s back paws are, learning body awareness of any area surely is as good for dogs as it is for people. Susan Garrett has a video on this, worth checking out.

6)  And finally, back to the nose: Engage your dog’s nose whenever you can, it truly seems to make them happy. I see people work so hard to keep their dogs from smelling things (“Don’t sniff that poop. Don’t sniff the garbage. Don’t Don’t Don’t…”) But it must be difficult for them to be restricted from using their best sense so often. We can turn that around easily. I often let the dogs sniff things that I bring home from the market, or anywhere else. They seem to enjoy it immensely. The easiest cue in the world, as a matter of fact, is “Sniff, sniff.” Just hold something out toward your dog and as he moves his head forward to investigate, say “Sniff, sniff.” It has broadened my sense of the world, and it feels (we all know I’m only guessing) like the dogs appreciate it. Several people who commented mentioned this too, so join the pack and give it a try!

That’s a start anyway, more ideas always welcome. By the way, one reader asked for a discussion about autonomy versus NILIF. Great question, and definitely worth discussing, but it deserves its own blog….

And here, just for fun, is one of my favorite comments about this topic: My dogs would probably say that one of their favorite autonomous times is deciding which dog bed in the sunny window or which forbidden couch to sleep on when we are at work. And how about the cat that insisted on being allowed to solve problems for himself? The perfect reminder that many of our companion animals still need dignity and choice in their life.

Thanks to all of you who added your smarts and experience to the requests of others for ideas. You came through, as usual, brilliantly.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. Thank you all so much for your good wishes about the wedding. Jim and I are still floating on oxytocin, although in a buzz for the Texas Two-Step Tour coming up. (I’m writing this on Wednesday the 7th, but I’ll post on Friday as usual when I’ll actually be speaking in Texas.)

The cycle of life at the farm continues. All the lambs have been taken to market, never an easy day for us. But it helped that we just brought King Charles over to Redstart from his c0-owner’s farm to begin the cycle again. (He is named after KC Spaniels, because he seemed so tiny when he first arrived.) I’m happy to say the King Charles is doing is work with enthusiasm.

To keep it simple, we loaded King Charles with the help of the buck goat he had been living with. Buck boy was happy to walk on a halter up to the trailer and King Charles was happy to follow him. Loading was relatively easy because of the way cool trailer Jim built this summer that is easy in/easy out for the sheep. After loading it was only a few miles drive to the farm, and then Willie brought the ewes out to the front lawn as a magnet for King Charles. Much easier than backing the trailer through the mud into the sheep pen.

King Charles went to work right away, sniffing each ewe in turn. Here he is checking out Lady Godiva, who was far more interested in the grass than the new guy in town. (Notice the red color on his chest: It’s called marking paint and it allows us to know when each ewe has been bred, because it rubs off on their butts as he mounts them.)

Spot attracted much more than a quick sniff. He tried to mount her right away on the front lawn, but she wouldn’t stand still for him until later when they were back in the barn pen. Perhaps she just wanted a little privacy? I checked the pen an hour later, and both Spot and Buttercup had clearly been bred. Good boy KC, good boy.

Recently I asked the question, “Can Dogs Tell Stories?” I didn’t mean stories in the sense of fictions we tell children to help them go to sleep at night, or novels about sexy spies, but stories as internal narratives that describe the “who, what and where” of an event in the past. In other words, can a dog have thoughts like “The last time I came to this dog park a big, dark dog ran up to me and play bowed and we had so much fun running around together.”

Readers, as usual, had some truly thoughtful answers to the question, and if you haven’t read them I encourage you to do so. It turns out that many others have been pondering this question for quite a while, and I thought you’d be interested in what they have to say.

Not surprisingly, given the complexity of this issue, there is not a definitive yes or no answer, based on the research that’s been done. Scientists don’t agree by any means, but… we are getting closer to an answer.

The technical term for an internal narrative of a past event is “episodic memory,” or an autobiographical event that is remembered as happening to one’s self. It has been argued (primarily by Tulvig, for those of you who would like to pursue this), that three things are required to be able to have episodic memories: 1) “Conscious recollection,” (titled “autonoetic awareness” — hey, don’t blame me for some of these terms) or an awareness of remembering a past event, 2) a subjective sense of time and 3) a sense of self (as in, these things happened to me). Tulvig and others argue that animals are not capable of episodic memory, that the ability to construct mental sequences of events is uniquely human, requiring self awareness and language at the very least. However, for a long time it was argued that animals had no capacity for long term memory, a belief long disproved by innumerable studies on a variety of animals from Bonobos to Blue Jays.

Some neuroscientists are questioning the arguments of others than animals are incapable of recalling, in journalistic fashion, the who, what and when of an event. The challenge is to investigate if animals have episodic memory without the luxury of being able to ask them. To summarize a coma-inducing stack of research reports[1], Neurobiologist Richard Morris suggests that there are at several reasons to suggest that some animals might posses an “episodic-like memory system.”  First, several studies have shown that rats, mice and some species of monkeys are able to solve tasks that suggest the existence of episodic memory. In addition, both similar brain structures (especially the hippocampus) and similar physiologies related to the storage, retention and recall of memory are found in non-human mammals, suggesting that both structure and function could lead to similar abilities.

A review article by E. Dere et. al. (2006, Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews 30) also argues that evidence suggests that animals can create mental narratives. In one study cited in the paper (Menzel 1999), a language-trained chimpanzee observed a caretaker hiding a food beyond the fence of the enclosure, out of reach of the chimp. Sixteen hours later, the chimp recruited a different caretaker, who did not know where the food had been hidden, indicated the kind of food hidden and directed the caretaker to the food itself.

In another study on Scrub Jays (a highly social bird that lives in the southeastern US), the birds were given both preferred and non-preferred food to cache somewhere in their enclosure (this species commonly stores nuts in tree bark for the winter months, much like squirrels bury acorns in the ground in fall). They had learned that after 28 hours, the preferred food spoiled if left where they’d put it but the non-preferred food did not. The question was: when allowed back into the enclosure with the hidden food, which food would they go to? Sure enough, the jays choose to first retrieve the preferred food if allowed back less than 28 hours after it had been hidden, but the non-preferred (and still palatable) food if more time had gone by.

Some argue that this is indeed good evidence for episodic memory, showing that the jays recalled “what, when and where,” and used this informative to guide their future behavior. However, not all animals have proven equally adept at solving the same problem. Rats, given the same choices, did not respond in the same way, and appeared unable to modify their foraging behavior based on past experience of whether food had had time to degrade or not. Other studies have found that mammals are often not particular adept at performing in ways that suggest episodic memory, so it is important not to cherry pick through the data to confirm what one wants to believe. If you’d like to read about more studies that flirt with answers about how close animals can get to a human-like narrative description of the past, read the review article by Dere et al that I mentioned earlier. It’s not bedtime reading–I had to read it in two sessions because half way through my mind began to smoke–but it you’re interested it’s a great resource. (Thanks to Julie Hecht for directing me to it!)

Here’s one more set of facts that might shed light on the topic: The importance of the hippocampus in episodic memory. All mammals have a hippocampus, the structure in the brain most responsible not just for memory, but in humans, for episodic memory. We know that people who have had damage to their hippocampus’s can remember many facts, but can’t remember narratives. In other words, they lose the ability to remember events as a series of related ‘who, what and where’s.’ In some experiments, rodents with a damaged hippocampus do not perform well on tasks that require a memory of past events, although they are able to use their “short term” memories to solve problems.

Dere and co-authors conclude that the evidence is strong that “animals” (which ones?) “are endowed with episodic memory.” They argue that current research suggests the ability to form mental narratives is yet another example of an ability with an evolutionary history, and that perhaps we should be not be asking  “yes/no” questions, but rather looking at cognitive continuities. I find this approach most reasonable, so here’s my best guess at an answer: Dogs can’t “tell stories” as richly as humans, given their restricted cognitive abilities and lack of language, but they can probably think about the ‘who, what and where” of past events in a way that is at least somewhat similar than not to human narratives. And that’ll just have to do until we have more information, or someone teaches their dog to talk.

[1] Here’s a representative quote from Morris’s 2001 paper: Put together (see Figure 5), the input specificity of transient or lasting synaptic change is determined by the pattern of glutamatergic synaptic activation that, in addition to causing transient potentiation, also sets synaptic tags.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: I came home from Denver to a massive thunderstorm and cloudburst, and another amazing inch of rain fell just yesterday. It was good to be home, although my trip to the Institute of Human Animal Connection at Denver University was an absolute joy. More about that in another post, because it deserves a lot of attention.

This weekend is supposed to be mostly sunny but chilly, so hopefully I can get in more work in the garden. Willie and I can’t wait to work sheep again, the clinic we attended last weekend was great for both of us. (More on that in a later post too. And a then there’s that case study I want to talk to you about, and another video… so much to talk about, so little time!)

Next week I’ll be in Milwaukee for an evening speech, the first time I’ve given Lost in Translation as an evening talk versus a full day seminar. (FYI, I’m hoping to be doing the full-day version in Chicago next August, details to come soon.) The week after I’ll be doing the Texas Tango, one night in Austin (sorry, it’s full at 300 but I think there is a waiting list…) and San Antonio on Nov. 14th (still room!).

Here’s a favorite recent photo of Mr. Willie boy, happy and relaxed after his lesson at the Shannahan clinic. He’d just had his lesson and is watching the next dog work sheep. You can’t see the other dog working very well, but part of what I love about the photo is watching a dog, completely off leash, lie down quietly and watch other dogs work. So very grown up of them. I posted this photo on Facebook but just couldn’t resist posting it here too…

And here’s a fall color photo I took a few weeks ago, just to keep all those luscious hues fresh in my mind:

Of course! It seems like a simple question, but as is often the case, our big, complicated brains allow us to add nuance to the answer. I’ve gone on record as arguing that yes indeed, mammals like dogs and horses can be happy, how could they not be? Feeling good is a way for the body to tell the brain (as if they were separate, forgive me for this simplistic duality) that it is in an environment that is safe and healthy. The neuro-hormones associated with happiness, like dopamine and oxytocin are shared by all mammals, and expressive mammals like dogs have the same facial expressions as we do when we are happy ourselves. I write about this in the book For the Love of a Dog and show examples in the DVD of the same name.

However, I was reminded that the question has more depth than “can a dog feel happy?” while reading  the book Mental Health and Well-being in Animals, edited by Frank McMillan. It is an excellent book for anyone interested in the mental life of animals, with chapters by Pam Reid, Marian Dawkins (on suffering, always an extremely thoughtful writer), Mark Bekoff, Suzanne Hetts, Temple Grandin, Jaak Panskepp, Bernie Rolland, and on and on. A truly impressive collection of knowledgeable, thoughtful people.

McMillan himself wrote the chapter titled “Do Animals Experience True Happiness?” In it, he reminds us that the concept of “happy” has two meanings: 1) a temporary mood or short term experience (joy, enthusiasm, pleasure) and 2) a long-term state associated with, in his words, “one’s evaluative overview of life.” In other words, there is a difference between being happy the moment you discovered you won a prize, and whether you’d describe your life as a happy one. “We just want you to be happy, dear,” coming from your parents isn’t asking that you have a few seconds of pleasure from a chocolate chip cookie, but rather enjoy a long-term state of satisfaction and contentment with life overall.

McMillan suggests that we use the term “happy” for the short-term state and “happiness” for the long-term one. It’s the “happy life” aspect of happiness that causes people to question whether animals can experience happiness. All biologists I know agree that mammals can experience short term pleasure, but some argue that animals like dogs are not able to evaluate and make judgements about their lives. McMillan writes an extremely thoughtful and thought-provoking article about this issue, arguing in part that animals exhibit many of the same needs that people have in order to achieve long-term happiness (such as control over their environment, a sense of achievement, and comparisons with others).

These are important and interesting arguments, and McMillan ends the article with an anecdote of a Beagle named Billy, whose relentless enthusiasm makes it impossible not to describe him as an animal who experiences happiness. Billy’s case brings us the concept of “set point,” or the well recognized tendency of individuals to have a base level of happiness (or lack thereof) that may be influenced by short term events, but not for long. I’d add that given what we now know about neurobiology and behavior, much of a person’s emotional approach to life is a question of how their brains function, based both on genetics and experience. Thus, it seems to me that “happiness” is not just a matter of cognitive judgements about one’s life, but also about one’s brain function and physiology. Our dogs may not make the same kind of judgements about their lives as we do (Oh, if only I’d…. when I was younger!), but it does seem reasonable that individual mammals have the same set of biological factors that influence whether we are generally cheerful or not as we go through out days. I’ve known so many dogs I’d call truly happy, others I’d categorize as experiencing “happy” times but not true happiness.  You?  Willie, by the way, seems to tilt between extreme joy and extreme anxiety on a daily basis.  What about your dogs? (And you… would you describe yourself as a “happy person?” Do you think that influences your dog(s)?)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Holy moly, there is a lot going on. The wolf controversy continues to take lots of my time (about to do an interview on it now, testifying next week at the NRB in Eau Claire) and I have lots of evening talks to prepare for. In addition, fall in the country is wonderful and, well …, full. There are apples to pick & process for my annual apple/wild plum butter sauce, tons of gardening to do (just ordered a few tons of mulch, oh my), barns to clean out, windows to wash, garages to clean, trees to trim, thistles to kill, and on and on. And now, cats to get final vaccinations for . . .

Introducing the next, and hopefully VERY long, chapter in life on the farm. As many of you know, after a feral cat had kittens in my barn I had hopes of taming her and keeping one her kittens as barn cats. She had other plans, being a truly wild animal, and after I had her spayed, she attempted to lure her kitten away from the barn and into the woods. One can hardly blame her; after all, from her perspective, I stole her kittens (probably ate them for all she knew), trapped and tortured her and then expected her to stay? I wish I knew where she was, but am glad that she is spayed and won’t be having more litters.

That left me with no cats on the farm at all, and when the cats away…. Yup, the mice will play. Worse, the rats were not just increasing, they were beginning to hold conventions. I expected to walk into the barn and find them holding little cell phones and video cameras. I could write an entire article on rats, and how much I adore domestic ones as pets, and how much I dislike having to rid the barn of them. I’ll summarize by saying that the last time I pretended there were no rats in the barn they ended up in my house. It’s one thing to have a pet rat. It’s another altogether to see a wild one run across your kitchen floor and discover the gaping holes they’d chewed in your cabinets. (And to hear your friends suggest that they might never visit again.)

As often happens, the  universe provided: Right after Xena the feral cat disappeared and Calico had found a wonderful new home, I learned that neighbors had a momma cat who showed up in their shed half dead, starved and pregnant. She eventually had 7 healthy kittens, thanks to the care and concern my friends showered upon her. Momma was clearly raised around people, she was super friendly and sought out people to rub against. When I contacted them they had one kitten left and also needed to find a home for momma. And so, here they are, momma Nellie (bottom) and kitten Polly, who are now settled into Redstart Farm, I hope for many, many years to come. They came with horrific diarrhea but I think we have that turned around. Nellie continues to gain weight and Polly is growing like a weed. Polly (both cats are polydactyl) is all white but her eyes are green and she does not appear to be deaf. She might have some health challenges in the future (all white cats are more susceptible to skin cancer) but I’ll give her the absolute best life I can. And how many barn cats have a cat tree in the hay mow?

Here’s one of fall’s most reliable predictors: the wild sunflowers in bloom in front of the barn. It is always bittersweet to see them.

But it is cool (yeah!) and raining today (even better) and we get to be home this weekend. Willie and I will work sheep a little, but I’m afraid his shoulder is regressing. He was visibly limping last week, so we’re back to exercise restrictions and lots of PT exercises. I  honestly don’t know if he’s going to be able to do the physical work to be able to compete in trials–driving a big course takes lots of ‘short stopping’ and stress on his injured ligaments. (His tendon was surgically repaired, but no such possibility for the medial ligaments that were torn.) We’ll see, I’m taking a long term, philosophic approach, and remind myself every day that Willie still can work sheep at the farm, and that’s more important to him than anything else. He’s entered in one more trial and a sheepdog clinic in mid October, we’ll see how he’s doing. He doesn’t know about any of this and is happy it’s cool and that Jim and I are home and he gets to work sheep a little bit. Life is good.

Lots of you liked the idea of doing some case studies, as well as reviewing and discussing photos and videos. I think it’s a great idea, so here goes our first one:

Here’s Sleeves on the left, and Patch on the right. I’m sad to report that Patch died just last week and her sister Michaela died only a month ago. All three of them, “Boonie” dogs–or mixed-breed dogs as they are called on Guam where they were born, were raised together and were litter mates. The litter lost their mother at 4 weeks, and owner Cin bottle fed them and raised them together.

Brother Sleeve appears to be devastated at the lost of both of his litter mates in such a short period of time (not to mention poor Cin, the owner).

Sleeve appears to be grieving, and is described as “so sad” by Cin. Usually this means that the dog is atypically quiet, inactive, and has what we think of as a sad expression on its face.  I don’t know if he’s eating well, but I’ve had several cases where dogs lost their appetite after the death of a buddy. I have no doubt that Sleeve is indeed struggling with this profound change in his life. Cin has told me she has tried to do her crying away from Sleeve, but is sure he is aware that she is grieving terribly herself. It is, of course, hard to know how much of Sleeve’s behavior is a response to Cin’s grief and how much is his own directly, but the latter seems to be key, given how bonded he was to the other two dogs.

Cin describes Patch as a “determined and confident spirit” who “took care of everyone.” When Michaela died Patch stayed with Sleeve and refused to leave him, not in the sense that she needed him, but that he needed her. She was always in charge, always active, smart and funny. Without her Sleeve appears to be lost. (Cin admits to feeling the same way: Patch was her “heart dog.” Poor Cin, my own heart goes out to her.)

Here is Cin’s question and my question to you: What can she do to help Sleeve? How does any of us help a “lost” and grieving dog? I’ll add my answers to your comments on Monday, but will start by saying there is some advice that is generic to all situations, and some that requires more information from an owner. If you agree, what more would you want to know from Cin? You can ask her in the comment section.

I’ve chosen this as a case study because it is a relatively common question that we get here at the office. Besides helping Cin (who graciously agreed for me to use her dogs as a case study), we can help many other dog owners too.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Hot and dry again, in spite of some of the recent rain, we’re still classified as in a severe drought, and you can see it easily in the crops and pastures. It’s time to start watering in the yard. Argh.  Even the trees look stressed, and it’s terrible for them to go into winter in bad condition. The pasture was coming back a bit, but it looks rough again and I am keeping the sheep off of it for now. Back to feeding hay.

Willie and I had a heavenly time at a friend’s on Tuesday night working sheep in a huge, perfect field, with a backdrop of woods, fields and a break-your-heart sunset. We’re getting ready for our first “big” trial coming up, where the outrun will be a 200-300 yards and the drive panels a dauntingly long way away. The fact is we truly aren’t competitive at this level yet, but I think Willie is far enough along that that the trial won’t set him back. I may have to crawl away from the post because of bad handling, using rapid fire whistles to keep the sheep straight on a cross drive is truly beyond my skill set right now. My ability to handle a dog on a cross-drive is, uh, low and there’s just so much practicing I can do. My friends said it didn’t look as bad as it felt…seemed to me that the sheep zig zagged around the course like drunken monkeys. But it’ll be harder in a real competition. I’ll ask Jim to tape us when we run if you promise to laugh at us quietly and gently.

Tootsie is in heaven because the wild plum trees are dropping fruit. The ones lower in the valley have little fruit because of the warm spell and subsequent deep freeze, but one tree higher behind the house is prolific. Tootsie thinks finding little squishy plums in the grass is like manna raining from heaven. Obviously, there’s just so many I allow her to eat, but for brief moments of gobbling she thinks she’s gone to heaven.

Here’s heaven for me: Our CSA allows members to come pick 10 lbs of Roma tomatoes which we and guests did on a cool, sweet Saturday morning. I sliced them in half, drizzled on olive oil, sprinkled them with fresh Basil and cooked them at 325 F for about 2 hours. They condensed down into a sweet, intense tomato-ness that is amazing in pasta, quiches or even as a side dish all by themselves. I freeze them in layers and take them out all winter when needed. They go a long way toward brightening up a cold, bleak winter’s day!

Here’s what they look like before they go in the oven:

Here’s what they look like when I take them out. They are super sweet, intensely flavored and add a wonderful kick to just about anything, except maybe a chocolate bar. You can’t really tell from the photo, but they are now very thin and flat, probably have lost about 2/3 of their mass, mostly from moisture no doubt.

On Friday I asked you what you thought was going on here, at least as best one could tell from a still photograph. I’m the first to agree it’s hard to say much from one brief moment in time, but it’s a great exercise nonetheless. It helps us all focus our attention and generate hypothesis about what might happen next. It would be perfectly reasonable to suggest several different scenarios…

Here’s the story in this case: These two dogs are great friends and play together often. The yellow dog is a 4 yr old GR/Husky cross, Tucker, who has a tendency to nip faces when he plays. The white dog in the red coat is Lily, a 2.5 yr old spayed female Dogo Argentino, owned by Katie Martz  here at McC Publishing.

Lily was responding to what appeared to be an inappropriate play action from Tucker (getting into her face in a way both Katie and I would call “rude.”). Katie’s interpretation of the event is that Lily, the Dogo, was irritated by the yellow dog’s behavior and was correcting him.

Immediately after this photo was taken both dogs paused, sniffed the ground and then resumed chasing and playing after a break. I take this as yet more evidence of the importance of pauses in healthy dog play… a chance to take break, take a breath, and decrease arousal levels.

Many of you were absolutely right on in your guess, good for you! (And to one commenter who bravely made a guess even though she was afraid she’d feel foolish if she was wrong… I love that you said out loud what many of us often feel. Good girl!) This is indeed play, as most of you guessed and Lily is, at least in my and Katie’s opinion, telling Tucker to back off. I think the most important visual signals here are the wrinkling over Lily’s nose and exposed front teeth, forward motion toward Tucker along with ears forward. Thus, I’d say she’s on offense and her wrinkled nose suggests some arousal and potential irritation. Tucker’s head is back and lateral, and his ears are back. He thus looks on defense to me, but note his high tail and hips leaning toward Lily… no shrinking violet here. I agree with some of you that he looks a tad surprised, (I want to say goofy but I suspect that’s not a technical term). It’s interesting that most of the responses on FB said the dogs were playing, but some said Tucker was on offense and some said Lily was. Given that the dogs are both pretty equally matched and that Tucker’s tail was high and he could have been hip slamming her at the time, not a bad guess!

Let me know if you think this is a fun exercise to do every once in a while. We could expand it to video… And I’d like to do some case studies here too. Like the idea?

Here’s an interesting case for you: A good friend has a lab cross, MeMe, who was badly skunked a few nights ago. This appeared to be a direct hit to the eyes, the poor dog was rolling desperately on the ground, gagging repeatedly and batting at her eyes. MeMe got medical care and appears to have recovered, but here’s her owner’s question: When Debby found her, she cringed and cowered, “belly nearly scraping the ground, eyes averted and tail down.” Debby said she looked like she was afraid she was about to be hit, although that has never, ever happened. (Okay, it’s not like I live inside the dog’s collar, but I know Debby, and believe me, she’d no more hit a dog than I would.) Debby was not scolding MeMe in anyway, but MeMe still had her head and tail down in the positions that people inaccurately (not Debby) call “guilty,” and she behaved as if she was afraid to get close to Debby, even when she held out cheese. MeMe eventually crawled into bed with Debby that night (still skunky, what a dedicated dog owner!) but cowered her way into the vet clinic the next morning, when normally she’d dash in all excited to see her friends.

Here’s the question: Why did MeMe behave that way? Was she really afraid of Debby? What did her postures and signals mean? I’d love to hear your speculations. I’ll chime in after a few days with my own ideas. Debby sent me a photo of MeMe the next day, eyes still a bit red, but healing.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: The drought continues, during the day the sheep lie on their sides like dogs, but the evenings now cool down a bit and Willie and I have been able to work the sheep for brief periods of time the last two nights. However, I’m neglecting the dogs a bit because The Kitten Chronicles continue. Here’s an update:

After trapping 4 kittens last week, we successfully live trapped first mom and then her last kitten on Saturday night (with two traps, side by side, cats trained to enter by placing food farther and farther back inside the traps). I was thrilled to find mom in the trap at about 9:30 pm Saturday night (I was feeding her every night at 9) and then the last kitty in the other trap in the morning. Yeah! Just call us Trapper Trisha and Jungle Jim.

Mom, who is now named Xena, was taken first thing Sunday morning to Friends of Ferals for their monthly “Spayathon” and spayed that morning. New Kitty was put in with the gingers, where she hid behind the toilet and hissed at me whenever I entered. Xena returned from spaying on Sunday afternoon, and on an expert’s advice, I let her out of the small trap into a larger dog crate in the barn to heal up for a few days.

Alert: Do not repeat that yourself. Xena darted out of the small trap, hit the back of the dog crate and went crazy. Here she was, having been spayed just a few hours ago, throwing herself against the walls, flipping 360′s off the ceiling while I stood helpless and watching in horror. That’s three times in the last week I’ve seen cats discover themselves in small cages and flip out. Both sets of kittens and Xena, when finding themselves trapped, panicked and threw themselves at the walls repeatedly. Lesson learned. In hindsight I wish I’d kept her in the small cage for longer. [Addendum added a few hours after posting: In case this is relevant someday for you: I should add that it is important to have the cages completely covered. Several people suggested that if the cages had been covered, Xena would have remained calm. Alas, she hadn't read that chapter, the cage was completely covered top and sides, and she still panicked. Not for long, but 15 seconds of extreme panic and activity probably isn't a good thing few hours after surgery.]

Worried, I checked on her often, even though I couldn’t handle her. I thought about capturing her with a rabies pole and taking her to my vet, but decided that would just stress her more. I used a flashlight to look for blood on the towel she lay on, nothing there. She ate the food I left her three times a day–more good signs. I finally opened the crate door Tuesday morning and left the barn. When I returned an hour later she was still lying in the back of the crate as if she hadn’t moved. Uh oh. That had me worried. Back an hour later… still there. Oh dear, not good at all. I decided to give her one more hour, and put food on both sides of the doorway. When I returned a half hour later, she was gone.

But would she ever come back? Was she recovering or not from her surgery? A bit later I heard a plaintive cry from the woods above the barn. Oh damn, I first thought, she’s injured and desperate and I’ll never find her again and what will happen to her now and… But then I remembered that injured or ill cats don’t vocalize, they go silent as stone, as my own injured cat Ayla did so many years ago. Perhaps then, I thought, she was calling for her kittens. That was my hope, but I could only guess and worry.

But that night, Xena did come back and ate the food I left her, and she continues to do so. I saw her several times on Tuesday and Wednesday, always cautious, but clearly not as frightened by me as before. And the news gets better…

Kitten Calico and Momma Xena are now re-united. So far anyway, everything is going as well as I could hope. First, Calico is 100% socialized to people. She seeks out people, rubs against us, loves chin and belly rubs, and plays like a champ. She is physically fearless and already Olympic in her athletic ability. She tamed down much faster than the others, primarily because she was alone and I spent more time with her, but I think she is also a bit of a fearless little sprite.

Once she began to come when I called her, and was clearly enamored of people,  I began carrying her to the barn and feeding her there, letting her play in the hay for a few minutes, and then bringing her back into the house. The first time out she played around the barn like a wild woman while I held my breath I’d be able to get her back. Yesterday afternoon I sat in the haymow and while she played I read A Lawyer’s Journey, a fascinating book by Morris Dees, founder of the Southern Poverty Law Center. I heard a plaintive meow from outside of the barn, and sure enough, it was mom. I stayed quiet and still, and in a few minutes Xena walked in, saw me and trotted out. I stayed a few minutes more, left some chicken for mom, picked up Calico and the two of us went back to the house. After a few hours we went out again, and this time Xena walked into the barn and greeted Calico while I sat, breathless, heart pounding, totally enraptured by mom and kitten re-acquainting. There was no doubt they remembered each other. After several minutes of rubbing, sniffing and vocalizing, Xena moved further into the barn and realized for the first time that I was there. She left again, but this time withdrew only a few feet, sat in the grass and growled at me. Never have I been so happy to hear a cat growl. I was about to pick up Calico and take her back for the night, but my gut said no, better to leave her here with momma so they can complete bonding.

So that’s what I did, walked back to the house taking deep breaths while the night sky turned navy blue and the farm light glowed over the driveway. Not so easy to leave this little bundle of fur to herself and her mom, but I felt it was the right thing to do if Calico and mom were to live together in the barn. This morning I looked out first thing toward the barn, and there Xena sat in the driveway. She didn’t run off when I took the dogs out to pee (another first), and little Calico popped out of her hidey hole like a piece of toast when I called for her when I went to visit. I’ve seen her twice since, bringing food and head rubs and toys to play with. My ultimate hope is that Calico will help Xena learn that not everyone wants to hurt her, and that she can count on me to feed and protect her.

Here’s Calico yesterday sniffing the trap that caught her mother. She was fascinated by it, went back to it over and over again. Not long after that, Xena began to meow from the woods.

And the others? Little “orange and white,” now Amelia, is described as the friendliest, most social cat Scott has ever had. She is flourishing and about as happy as a kitten can be. So are Brave and the other 2. All the kittens (the 4 I still had anyway) went to the vet on Monday for vaccinations and worming, where I discovered that little boy “Not Brave” is actually a little girl.  Whoops. But they all progressed well over the weekend, Brave taking food right off your finger, happily playing with toys with you, while the newbie slowly adapted to taking food from a long spoon. Dan Johnson of Friends of Ferals came to take them on Tuesday, where they will be up for adoption sometime soon. If I thought my farm could handle 3 cats without compromising the wildlife, I would have kept one more in a minute. They are gorgeous and lovely kittens, and I will do my best to follow their adventures in life. I hear that two of them might have found a home already. Here they are lounging on the porch (thanks Dan for the photo!). And I have to go out of my way again to thank Dan, Kelly, Dr. Adam, Dr. Susan and all the wonderful people who volunteer for Friends of Ferals. The world is a better place for your efforts.

It’s been quite a ride, this adventure that began with Sushi leaving and Xena coming. As a zoologist I know that Xena most likely came into the barn because of the vacuum left by Sushi’s absence. That’s no doubt true, but I still want to believe that maybe, just a little bit, the universe knew how much my  heart ached for a cat, and decided to do something about it.

We’re happy to introduce Karen London, Ph.D. as a guest blogger for The Other End of the Leash this week!  Enjoy!

If people go running by your home accompanied by their cats, geckos, ferrets, parrots, or rats, then you live in a very different neighborhood, perhaps even a different world, than I do. It’s just not part of our relationship with those species, however close we may be to them. Yet running is something that many of us share with our dogs, to the point that it’s almost cliché for people to swear that their dog is the best running partner they’ve ever had.

There are so many reasons why people choose to run with their dogs beyond just knowing that their dogs need the exercise. Unlike most human running partners, dogs don’t ever have meetings that go late. They wouldn’t rather sleep in. They are always ready to go, and are generally willing to cruise at any pace with equal ease. They don’t complain that the weather is bad so they’d rather skip today’s workout. The chance to go for a run is greeted with enthusiasm by our canine companions. The truth is that dogs typically like running, which is yet another commonality between dogs and humans.

Okay, perhaps not ALL humans. (Trisha, for example, who is one of my very favorite humans, has described running as abusive though she is very active both on her farm and with long walks and hikes, which are great joys to her. She thinks it’s great that I like to run and that it makes me happy. Still, every time we room together at a conference and she sees me head out for my morning run, I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking, “Hey, better you than me!”)

In the last hundred years or so, people have become more sedentary than at any other time in our evolutionary history, and many of our dogs have joined us on the couch. (A small percentage can’t run because of health issues such as changes in structure that make the high aerobic demands of running problematic, as is the case for the brachycephalic breeds such as the Pug, Pekingese, and Bulldog, but most don’t run simply because we don’t give them the opportunity.) Though most dogs are still generally excited about running, the human species, outside of a small percentage of fanatics of the sport (or weirdos as we are sometimes called), isn’t interested in heading out to run each day anymore. As a result, those good feelings we get from running—the runner’s high—are not felt as often by as many of us. Yet, the potential to activate the chemical reactions that cause the runner’s high still exists within us. The ability to experience that rush of good feelings is shared by both dogs and people, even if we aren’t all dipping into the opportunity with the frequency that our long-ago ancestors did.

The runner’s high is caused by endocannabinoids, which are neurotransmitters in our bodies. These chemicals signal the reward centers of our brains, giving us the message that what we are feeling is pleasure. They lessen both pain and anxiety as well as create feelings of well-being. Running results in higher levels of endocannabinoids in our blood, which makes us respond to running by feeling good.

A recent study by researchers at the University of Arizona investigated the production of endocannabinoids in multiple species, including dogs, as a result of running. There are lots of advantages to running, including to capture prey and to avoid being captured by predators, but endurance running is still not likely to happen if it feels bad. These scientists were interested to know whether it’s possible that species that do a lot of long-distance running evolved to like running via the pathway of reward centers in the brain that respond to chemicals produced while running.

The researchers predicted that there would be a different chemical response to running in species with a history of endurance running compared to species whose natural history does not include running. Specifically, they predicted that running would result in chemical reactions in the brain that are associated with pleasure in endurance running species but not in species that don’t typically run long distances.

To investigate this issue, they compared the effects of running on endocannabinoid levels in three species. Two of the species—dogs and humans—come from long lines of endurance runners over the eons. Running has been an integral part of their evolutionary histories, even if not all of individuals of those species regularly run today. The other species, the ferret, is not a running species. Though ferrets can move pretty quickly over short stretches, running for long distances is not a part of their natural history.

The experiment involved training dogs, people, and ferrets to run and walk on a treadmill and taking blood samples from their subjects before and after they ran or walked. (Not surprisingly, it was way easier to train dogs and people to do this than to train the ferrets!) The blood samples taken after running from dogs and people contained highly elevated levels of one particular endocannabinoid, which is called anandamide. The blood samples from ferrets after running on the treadmill did not show elevated levels of anandamide, or any other cannabinoid. None of the species had elevated levels of any cannabinoid after walking.

This study provides evidence that dogs and humans receive a chemical reward for running but that ferrets do not. When I say that dogs receive a “reward”, it’s hard not to think like the dog trainer I am and compare this change in brain chemistry to a treat, since both provide pleasure. It gives our dogs pleasure to eat steak, which is why steak makes such a great reinforcement for training. Dogs are more likely to perform a behavior if doing so makes pieces of steak available. Having the reward center of the brain activated by the chemicals produced while running is a high-quality reinforcement for running, and one that has been acted on by the forces of evolution to reward people and dogs for running. In species that are endurance runners, the changes in our chemistry as a result of running and those effects on the brain help us enjoy running.

The brains of dogs and humans—both natural runners—are hardwired to enjoy running, which may have provided the evolutionary mechanism necessary for us to develop such skill at it. The quirk of brain chemistry that makes both dogs and humans love running is not universal among mammals. Ferrets, for example, derive no pleasure from running.

Simply put, this study shows that dogs and humans, unlike ferrets, achieve a runner’s high. Of course, it also suggests that Trisha is part ferret. (She said I could write that, in case you were wondering.)

So, consider indulging your dogs the next time they are begging to run. It turns out you are just like them—born to run!

I’d love to hear your views on running and dogs, whether you and your dog participate in this activity or not.

Here I am with one of my best running buddies as we share some water during our post-run happiness:

And here’s elite professional runner and dog trainer Emily Harrison with her dog Super Bee, who I often see running around my neighborhood. Besides the fact that I like both Emily and Super Bee personally, I have to share this picture because it seems just plain wrong to write a post on Trisha’s blog and not include a photo of a Border Collie.

Karen B. London, Ph.D. is a Certified Applied Animal Behaviorist and Certified Pet Dog Trainer who specializes in the evaluation of serious behavior problems, including aggression, in dogs.  She is the behavior columnist for The Bark Magazine, writes The London Zoo column in the Arizona Daily Sun, and is the coordinating editor for that same paper’s weekly running column, “High Country Running.” She runs and trains for races with dogs and people, with her favorite training partners being her husband Rich and her old dog Bugsy, who was half Black Lab and half Handsome Stranger. She has co-authored five books on canine behavior and training with Trisha.

So much to learn, so little time! I recently did a guest appearance on Wisconsin Public Radio and didn’t do a very good job answering a question about a rabbit who pottied on the couch instead of its litter box. Thanks to an alert listener and member of the Wisconsin House Rabbit Society, I’ve learned a lot since. And I have to admit I find it fascinating. You all know I’m an animal behavior addict, whether it’s dogs or donkeys or doodle bugs, and I even had rabbits for a time, so I’m gratified to learn more about them.

I’m not proud of my own efforts at rabbit husbandry. It was a very, very long time ago, before I knew much at all about animals and animal behavior, and the rabbits lived outside in a cage in a building. Granted, it was warm and safe, but one of the most important things I now know about rabbits is that rabbits are like dogs in that they are highly social and inquisitive. Keeping a rabbit in a cage outside with little social interaction  is no life for a rabbit.  (Thank heavens we at least had 2 of them together, and they  got along well.) They need physical and mental exercise just like dogs, and they need relationships with others that are friendly and fun.

On the other hand, rabbits are nothing like dogs. And there’s where I messed up on my radio answer to the rabbit who wasn’t using its litter box. I had cat and dog behavior too much on my mind when I answered, and I didn’t say that rabbits, unlike dogs but exactly like my sheep, potty where they eat. Like dogs, they use urine and feces  to mark territory, but unlike dogs, they take this territory stuff inside the house very, very seriously. So seriously that the national House Rabbit Society (a marvelous resource by the way, as is the Wisconsin chapter) advises you to avoid even putting your hand in their cage. Their cage (with litter box within it) is their territory, and rabbits do better when what’s theirs is theirs and what’s yours is yours.

The House Rabbit Society advises never putting your hand in the rabbit’s cage for any reason if the rabbit is inside. Don’t reach in to pull him or her out (they are prey animals after all), and don’t pick them up and put them back. Herd them back, Border Collie like, so that they make the choice themselves to go inside.

There’s a lesson for all of us here, one I find myself learning over and over again: Every animal has its own ethology, its own umwelt or reality that it lives within, and it is critical for us to understand and respect that. The sheep taught me that the first year I had them, when I spent hours trying to close up and insulate the barn so that they wouldn’t suffer during the brutal Wisconsin winters. . .  and ended up giving them pneumonia because sheep need fresh air to be healthy. I sometimes find them on the coldest of mornings lying in comfortably outside on icy snow, instead of the warm, comfy straw I’ve put in the sheltered barn.

What about you? I’d love to read about what your experiences with any species has taught you. Horses and sheep taught me to think more like a prey animal, my cats have taught me about the need to pause before going outside so that one can look and smell for other cats or danger. What about you: Lessons from gerbils? Here’s what my pet rat taught me?

And oh yeah: One last thing: Rabbit fanciers call rabbit poop “pills.” If that’s not cute I don’t know what is. (I should note that rabbits also have two kinds of poop. Check it out here.)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: It’s gorgeous and sunny but cool with puffy clouds and blue sky and blooming poppies by the front door. I can’t savor much of it now because it’s crunch time at the University, lots of exams to grade and lots of work too on our new website (coming to a computer near you this summer). Here’s some of what I’m soaking up:

If you’ve been following last week’s blog and the comments, you know that there’s been an active discussion about whether dogs can (or can’t) form “true” friendships. This was motivated by an article in Time Magazine by Carl Zimmer that discussed the evidence of friendship in several species of mammals, including dolphins, baboons and horses. In spite of the irony of a cover photo that includes two dogs (and the photographer saying: “I actually had to make sure that the dogs coming in were actually friends.”), the article states “… most scientists think they [relationships between dogs] fall well short of true friendship.” I’m curious who the ‘most’ scientists are…

I suggested to the author that he might want to talk to scientists who study dogs like Barbara Smuts & Camille Ward. Barbara and Camille wrote an article in Bark magazine (Summer 2010) in which they summarize their research that makes it clear that dogs can form friendships. Keep in mind the Barbara Smuts is a well respected scientist whose work on baboons was essential in convincing other scientists that animals can form friendships. She defines friendships as relationships in which individuals choose to spend a lot of time together and engage in friendly, affiliative behaviors. Do we see that in dogs? Of course! So absolutely, I continue to go on record as believing that yes, dogs can form “true friendships.” Here’s some more of my arguments related to that belief.

First, we have to distinguish between intra and interspecific relationships; social relationships between individuals of the same species and those between members of 2 different species. I absolutely agree that, as interspecific relationships, our social bonds with dogs are more complicated than those between dogs. As thoughtfully mentioned in the comments, most of our domestic dogs are completely dependent upon us. We control their food intake, their elimination, who they play with, etc. Thus, the question is a good one as to whether a dog could consider us anything but “keepers” or “guardians,” but not true friends.

Certainly a balance of power does have a profound effect on a relationship, but I would argue that it is still possible to form a friendship with an individual who holds more of the cards than you do. After all, the scientific paper that Zimmer uses to base much of his article on argues that friendship most probably evolved from close relationships between mothers and their young. Even after the young mature, their mothers (in apes, for example), still have more power than their grown young do. But scientists call their close social bonds one of “friendship” nonetheless.

Second, I would argue that, in many cases, dogs may see themselves as having a tremendous amount of power. “Paw her and she’ll pet my head.” “Whine and she’ll give me a treat.” We could argue on and on about who has more power and when, and certainly it’s true that in most cases we control a dog’s access to food, etc, but the power differential isn’t always as black and white as one might think. As mentioned in the comments, our relationship with dogs is an example of a “symbiotic” relationship, but of a specific kind: a “mutualistic” relationship in which both parties receive benefits. (Parasitism is also a symbiotic relationship, but in that case only one member benefits.)

Third, if you look at the paper Zimmer uses as the basis for his article (Seyfarth and Cheney, “The Evolutionary Origins of Friendship.” Annu. Rev. Psychol. 2012. 63:153-177.), the authors define friendship as “enduring social bonds not directly related to mating.”  In most species, that includes grooming, play,  maintenance of proximity, and the formation of coalitions. If you look at the literature, time spent in proximity is the most universal feature of how “friendship” is defined. And although it’s true that there are many reasons a dog may choose to spend time close to one of his or her “humans,” including insecurity or the Stockholm effect, surely most of us have known dogs who happily and cheerfully chose to spend their time next to a particular person, and sought that person out from all others in a crowd.

Whether dogs can form “true” friendships with other dogs is another matter (although, of course, they are related). And here, again, I’ll argue that good science supports that contention. Zimmer states that “scientists don’t see friendships in wolf packs,” but I’d like to see what that is based upon. Show me the data, please. One argument Zimmer and others make is that most friendships seen in non-human animals are in species in which individuals have life-long relationships (dolphins, apes, etc.). The argument is then made that wolves disperse from their natal packs, and thus dogs have not evolved from a species predisposed to form friendships. But what of the huge packs that are found in Yellowstone Nat’l Park? As I understand it, most large packs are found to be made up of related individuals, exactly the same genetic make up of chimpanzee and dolphin groups. We can’t have it 2 ways here.

And again, (she says with a sigh), dogs are not wolves. They do not automatically attempt to rip the throat out of any canid that enters their territory, for example. Wolves and dogs both are, however, exceptionally social. Unlike most mammals, they live in groups, often defer reproduction to others, often raise the young of others cooperatively (this is often true in dogs, even if the feral males don’t provision their young; “Aunting” behavior is very common in dogs, my Pippy helped to raise all of Lassie’s puppies) and in wolves anyway, hunt together as a cooperative group.

Here’s a behavior not mentioned in Time or Seyfarth and Cheney’s article, but it could (and should) be a subject of study: Greeting behavior. One of the reason I argue so strongly that dogs can form friendships is the extreme variation seen in inter and intra specific greetings. As mentioned in the comments, there are endless examples of dogs who greet another dog or a person with an “over the moon, over the top” enthusiasm only seen to that particular individual. I once saw 2 dogs greet each other who had been apart for over six years and the dogs were border-line hysterical. The frequency and intensity of their whining, licking, leaping etc was several magnitudes their usual behavior. This canine equivalent of hugging, crying and kissing is universally understood as joy, and I would argue it is not anthropomorphic to presume that the emotions being experienced are exactly what we think they are.

This is not to say that friendship between people and dogs is exactly the same, and yes yes yes we need more research on the topic. But scientists are trained to that the simplest explanation should be the first one employed to explain a phenomenon (Occam’s razor), and I would argue that the simplest explanation to what looks like friendship in dogs is exactly that… friendship. That doesn’t mean that all dogs are friends, or that all dogs are friends with their humans. If that’s what we observed (all dogs treating all other dogs the same way), it would actually be evidence against friendship in dogs; the whole point of the concept is that it is a ‘special’ relationship above and beyond the other normal, social relationships, so we should expect to see it only between some individuals.

A last comment about friendships: Here’s a rather lovely saying about it I found while working on this topic: “Love is blind. Friendships tries not to notice.” Anonymous. Love it.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: I’d love to tell you that Willie and Tootsie are friends, but they still pretend the other isn’t there, even when their heads are smashed together when they greet us or ask for petting. But they both gave us over the moon receptions when we returned from the Dog Writer’s Association of America in New York. (Love Has No Age Limit won two awards, very gratifying!) I’ve got 2 heavenly weekends at home, then off to Phoenix one weekend (invited talk at the Interdisciplinary Forum on Applied Animal Behavior, not open to the public I’m afraid) and Tucson for the Tucson Book Festival the next weekend in early March. If you’re in southern Arizona, come to the book festival March 10-11th!

Here’s a photo I snapped last Saturday from the Empire State Building. I’ve been to NYC several times, but never made it up to the observation deck, and in spite of a brutally cold wind, it was truly fun. I rented the audio tour and learned all kinds of great things about the city, and loved being able to see a complete view of Manhattan. This is me on the observation tower: Brrrr. Wow!  Brrrr. Wow!  Brrrr. Wow! (etc.)

I love visiting the Big Apple, but always soooo good to get back to the farm!