THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

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.

At the risk of being self-serving, I wanted to let you know that the Second Edition of Feisty Fido is now available. Little did Karen London and I know, when we took a look at the first version before reprinting it, how much time we’d end up spending revising it. True confession: when a few months ago I re-read the first version, written in 2001, I thought, “Oh my, it is truly time to revise this!.” (Karen had the same response that I did, and, as usual, we were “on the same page” about it, so to speak.) I do think that the booklet has helped a lot of people and a lot of dogs, and that makes me happy, but I am even happier to have an updated, revised, updated and lovingly, tweaked new version available.

For those of you who know the book, here are the primary differences:

1) There is a new section on equipment, that includes front-attachment harnesses and our experiences with harnesses versus head halters.

2) We dropped the release word from the end of the Watch cue. We found that owners and dogs quickly learned that Watch means “turn your head and look at me” but struggled with the “look at me until I release you” aspect of the cue. It seems that letting a dog look at you and then turn back and look at the other dog again isn’t a problem with many dogs, indeed it gives you another chance to say Watch again. We do discuss the exceptions: for example, dogs who are so aroused when they look at another dog that they are unable to contain themselves, even at a distance. Some of these dogs do seem to improve the most if they are asked to maintain the Watch until they are released. But they are by far the exceptions, not the rule and I really like dropping the release aspect of the cue for the sake of expediency. (Note that several readers concurred when I brought this up in an earlier post.)

3) We revised and expanded the section on “Where’s the Dog?,” agreeing with Leslie McDevitt (Control Unleashed) that teaching a dog to look at another dog on cue can be just as useful as teaching them to turn away. Which cue is best, as usual, depends on the dog, and we discuss that in more depth in the new version. By the way, if I haven’t mentioned this before, I used Watch on Willie when he was at his worst with unfamiliar dogs (and “worst” was pretty bad, believe me), then switched to “Where’s the Dog” (which is what I use now, and he goes all gooey and waggy as soon as I say it.) Not surprisingly, I like having both cues in your pocket, but I don’t think that’s necessary for all dogs. I am interested in the fact that both Watch and Where’s the Dog result in the same operant behavior (look at dog, look at owner) and the same classically conditioned response (look at dog, feel good).

4) We include brief discussions of alternatives like Abandonment Training and C.A.P. and the situations in which we find them most useful.

5) We revised the resource section at the end.

6) We both thought the writing in the first version needing some tweaking, so we wrote, like, sorta better throughout the booklet.

We, as always, would love feedback, so let us know, through the blog or emails, what you think. Before we know it, it’ll be time to reprint it again!  You can also reach Karen, by the way, through her own blog at Bark Magazine’s Blog Site.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Will and I worked on picking sheep off a fence when another group was beside the fence on the other side. It went well, but it was clear that Will found it stressful. I stopped and let him do an easy, open outrun to end on a relaxing note, and then played lots of tug later that night. Good boy Willie, good boy. (Uh, have I said that before?)

I’m working on a column for Bark right now about the ontogeny of fear in dogs. The editors, Claudia and Cameron (the editors of Bark), adopted two sisters from a rescue organization down south. The girls are litter mates who might be BC/terrier X beagle crosses. Both came under socialized and shy, but one (Kit) has rapidly come out of her shell, while the other (Holly) is still profoundly fearful of any kind of novel event. Leaving the house is a trauma for her, as is the appearance of any object that she’s not expecting. (Claudia’s purse fell off a chair and Holly refused to go anywhere near it, even though it blocked her access to her favorite area of the house. Meanwhile, Kit jumped over it and continued on her way.)

Claudia’s question to me, and the motivation for the column, is “What are the forces that have made these 2 siblings, who shared the same early environment, so profoundly different?” It’s a great question… and I’ve been doing some research I thought you’d be interested in. A longer story will appear in a later issue of Bark, but here’s a small piece of it:  Evidence is increasing that in utero experiences have profound effects on an individual’s personality. Just look at these findings from human development:

1. Babies born of starving mothers are born with livers and pancreases that are less able to process fat and sugar, and as adults they are predisposed to diabetes.

2. A moderate amount of stress during pregnancy leads to a child who is more adept at tasks requiring reasoning and coordination.

3. However, extreme stress or trauma does the opposite, and can create a child with fewer receptors in their brain for the stress hormone cortisol. Once born, even as an adult, the child’s brain is unable to sense large amounts of cortisol until it’s too late. Suddenly swamped with cortisol, the individual responds to even mild changes in the environment with fear and anxiety.

Although the studies I mentioned are all on primates, there is a great deal of evidence supporting the same effect in a large range of mammalian species. Here’s where the recipe for differences in personality in dogs comes in, even in litter mates. First off, all litter mates come with a different genetic blueprint. Just as you and your siblings aren’t clones of each other, neither are puppies, even when they are born at the same time. Each set of genes is going to react differently to the environment, including the one that surrounds a pup as it develops in utero.  By the time pups are born, they have had two very different sets of experiences. They started out with different genetics that effects how they respond to their early environment, and they each have had a different experience inside the womb. We may think it’s all the same in there, but developmental biologists will tell you that each fetus has very different experience than it’s womb mates. (I do apologize for the pun . . .  but I just can’t bring myself to delete it.) Some puppies get more nutrition than others, some get better immune system protection, etc.

By the time a pup, kitten or child is born, they have both nature and nurture to separate them.

I knew some of this years ago when I was breeding, and will never forget when Pippy Tay was about 2 1/2 months pregnant. She had ripped a hefty patch of skin from her side in a classic “tent injury” that clearly needed a lot of stitches. (I just about fainted when I saw may dog looking like she’d been skinned. I called the clinic and said: “This is Trisha, the dog owner. This is NOT Dr. Patricia McConnell and I am FREAKED OUT!”)

After settling down,  I talked to the vet for quite a while about her pregnancy, and what effect any drugs we’d use would have on her, and how stressful the procedure would be. I’d just finished reading about learning deficits in rhesus macaques whose mothers had heard loud noises randomly produced during their pregnancy, and was worried about the effect of treatment of her developing puppies. We elected to give her just a local anesthetic, I stroked and coo-ed to her during the entire procedure, and thank heavens, she seemed relatively calm during the entire procedure.  After wearing a T-shirt for weeks to protect the wound, she healed with no complications. I relaxed and the pups turned out beautifully.

I do think, though, that’s it is a good thing I’ll never be pregnant now that I have this knowledge. I can just hear it: “Careful! Be nice! Mustn’t stress mummy! You know what the research says!” (Oh, wait, but the studies do say that moderate stress is a good thing! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.)

I’d love to hear if others have had experience with litters whose mothers went through serious traumas. Of course, we’ll probably never know what happened to Kit and Holly’s mom while she was pregnant, but it is tempting to speculate that it wasn’t all good.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Somewhere I have a print photo of Pippy with the T-shirt, if I find it I’ll attach it to this post. But for now, here’s Sushi, looking ever so stressed on the couch on a cool morning …..  Not a lot of stress there!

xx

Here’s a question for you, based on a column I’m writing for The Bark magazine. The editors asked if I’d write a column about “training old dogs.” (The column on training male versus female dogs will be in the next issue… stay tuned!). The question: how does your training vary (or does it?) once your dog becomes geriatric? I’ve started the column already: “Lassie doesn’t sit anymore, at least, not when asked.” I’m basing this introduction on the fact that about six months ago, my 15 year old Lassie looked at me blankly when I asked her to sit.

She’s going deaf, so I thought perhaps she didn’t hear me. I gave her our usual visual signal. Nothing. Then I lured her down with a piece of food. She looked up at my eyes and stared at me. And rather than trying any longer, I thought: “Oh, I get it. Either it hurts her to sit (she’s named Lassie for a reason after all, and basically did everything and anything anyone asked for 14 years) or she’s just simply done performing now that she’s the equivalent of a 90 year old woman. Sort of the canine equivalent of “When I am old I will wear purple.”

Here’s the thing. I treated it completely differently than if it had been Willie. Basically, although I’m still teaching Lassie some new things, which I think is good for her, I’m giving her a lot of ‘old dog’ passes. She is almost deaf, losing her sight, playful but frail and I suspect that her mind feels a little fuzzy sometimes. What do you think? Do you give your old dogs ‘passes’ too?

On the home front, it was 10 below this morning and windy. I’m going to keep this short because Lassie was so cold outside I’m not sure she even peed last time I took her out. I’m going to run home to let her out again. Thank heavens I got in and out of Washington DC between storms. It is absurd here… 10 inches Friday (totally snowed out of my office, couldn’t even think about leaving the farm), more the day after and now they’re predicting a total of another 13″ in the next two days. Geeeez. Being on the Diane Rehm show as without question the highlight of the month. I unabashedly adore her, although I realize such praise is terrifically uncool (“don’t gush” a producer said to me once). She is the best interviewer I’ve ever worked with, and the fact that she was such a supporter of my radio show is a great compliment indeed. Here’s a photo of her and her Maxie, who amused us all by playing with the toy I’d brought while we did the show.

And here’s Will, who unlike me and Lassie, seems oblivious to the cold. Ah youth!

This is an honest question! I’m truly curious what you think.  The editor of the Bark Magazine asked me to write my next column on whether male and female dogs need to be trained differently, and whether they perform differently. I have some thoughts about it, but I am primarily interested in what YOU think! I’d especially love to hear from trainers or people who have had a good number of dogs, so that they have seen a good ‘sample size’ to use to compare the sexes.

I must say, I take this on with trepidation! Would it be less potentially controversial to talk about the Iraq war or the recent election?! I’ll tell you what my experience has been (and what I’ve heard others say so far) after I’ve gotten a good number of comments…

The face of Mike, shown below, is suggesting he’d love to know what you think. (owned by a great guy name Rich, from Chicago, Illinois, member of the Wisconsin Working Stockdog Association…

It’s a wonderful thing to hold a book you wrote in your hand, long after the writing and the editing and the discussions with the publishers about cover photos and who to ask for quotes on the back… My new book, Tales of Two Species: Loving and Living with Dogs just came from the printers, and I have to admit it feels good to see it. It’s a collection of essays written over the years for Bark magazine, published by Dogwise (who I call the Amazon of dog books). Working with the editors of Bark has been a joy, and collaborating with the folks at Dogwise has been equally delightful (I presume you are not shocked to learn that this is not always the case between author and publisher? I have been exceptionally lucky with my national books, having wonderful editors at Ballantine who have become dear friends. However, I have heard lots of nightmare stories from other authors. . . (no I’m not telling!)

Here’s a couple of excerpts from the book:

From the essay “Canis Cousins? Unraveling ancestral ties” in the section on Genetics, Ethology and Behavior:

“Dogs aren’t wolves, pure and simple. Except, uh, they are. Sort of. Sometimes. Lest you think I’ve lost my mind, I’d like to explain why the statements “dogs are wolves” and “dogs aren’t wolves” are equallycorrect. I’m writing about this issue because it’s inherently a confusing one, and if we really want to understand our dogs, it’s important to get it right.”

From the essay “A Peaceful Walk in the Park: Strategies for defusing tense encounters while walking a dog-reactive dog:”

“It’s okay!” she waves, her two Golden Retrievers racing toward your dog like cheerful, caramel-colored tsunamis. “My dogs LOVE other dogs,” she gushes, while your mouth goes dry and your heart stops, then resumes pounding so hard you think it might thump out of your chest. It doesn’t matter if the approaching dogs love other dogs–not if your dog barks and lunges every time she sees something with four feet. It’s YOUR dog who is the problem, and there you are, trying to be responsible, keeping your dog leashed and under control, while those around you let their dogs run free and turn yourrelaxing walk into a stress test.”

And finally, from an essay titled “Rites of Passage: Navigating the loss of a beloved dog.”

“Tulip was as beautiful in death as she was in life. Her long white fur covered her thin old body like a fluffy blanket. Her eyes were peacefully closed, and she looked as though she might wake up at anymoment and plunk her huge white head in my lap for petting. Tulip died at the admirable age of 12 years, 10 months, a legendary length of life for a Great Pyrenees. But this is not an essay about Tulip, although like many of our dogs, she deserves an entire Library of Congress written about her. Rather, it’san essay about coping with the death of our beloved dogs, and specifically, about how best to cope in the hours right after they die.”

[and how can I resist a photo of Tulip when she was still alive, taken by Amanda Jones?]

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The book is a “curl up n the couch with your dog” kind of book, so I guess it’s release at the onset of winter is well timed. At least, it’s definitely November here in Wisconsin… look at the difference between the pictures of the Japanese Maple in front of the farm house a month ago compared to now…. ah, the greys of November. Tomorrow the high is supposed to be 34, with high winds and sleety rain. This does not bode well for the planned “clean out the barn” day tomorrow, which includes scrubbing the cement barn floor with bleach after all the old straw and manure is hauled out by a bobcat (not the living breathing kind) and two strong neighbor boys (and okay, me and Jim). Wish us luck!

I was working on my new book, coming out from Dogwise in early November, and found a section that relates, I suspect, to the cancellation of my radio show, Calling All Pets. The book, coming out from Dogwise, (Tales of Two Species) is a collection of my columns from Bark magazine. One of them is titled “Pet Peeves.” In it I write about our country’s ambivalent feelings about our pets. On the one hand, many of us love them, treat them like family and can’t imagine life without them. They are as important to our well-being as is literature, music and art. (For some of us, I’d add food, water and oxygen.) And yet, look at how often we hear people say, demeaningly, that an animal is “just a pet.” Here’s an excerpt from the essay:

“Just a pet.” How many times have you heard someone say that? Perhaps it was a conformation breeder who observed, “This pup doesn’t have a good top line, so he should be sold as just a pet.” You’ve probably read the phrase in articles about how much we love our companion animals: “It is remarkable how much money the American public spends just on pets.” And companion animal owners use it—ask any veterinarian, who too often hears: “We just adore our little Cocker Spaniel, she’s the greatest joy of our lives, but we can’t afford to spay her because she’s just a pet.”

Part of the problem, I suspect, is the derivation of the word “pet.” It began as a reference to a spoiled, over-indulged child and only recently has been used to describe the dogs and the cats sharing our homes. “Spoiled and over-indulged” are not words designed to engender respect or importance, now are they? It seems that the American psyche is highly ambivalent about our companion animals… either acknowledging how much they add to our lives, or dismissing them as trivial things, something akin to children’s toys. Nice to have around, but not really important. I wrote about this at length in the afterward to For the Love of a Dog–trying to explain why those of us who love dogs so much are not neurotic or socially challenged, at least not any more than the rest of the country. One of my favorite books about the bond between people and dogs is Pack of Two, by the late (and amazing) writer, Carolyn Knapp. It is a beautiful, beautiful book, and if you haven’t read it, go get a copy right now. I deeply regret that she died, tragically, before she was able to grace us with more of her writings (and, selfishly, before I was able to meet her).

I am curious what others have found. Do you also wonder sometimes if the world sorts into two groups? Group one includes those whose love for animals informs each and every day of their lives (in this case I mean companion animals, but there’s much to say in later writings about the importance of our connection to wild animals and an understanding of their behavior). Group 2 includes people who can take them or leave them, being indifferent to pets at best and those who love them, or at worst demeaning the bond between people and animals as an example of social ineptitude. Of course, I’m oversimplifying, but I’m curious what others experience.. do you often feel like you have to justify your love for your dogs, cats, horses? (ferrets, cockatiels, rats, etc…)

Meanwhile, it’s a gorgeous fall day here. My digital camera broke this morning, or I’d show you more pictures of Will working the lamb flock. I am busting out of my britches with pride for him… he is blossoming every day into a wonderful working stock dog. This morning the biggest ram lamb (probably 100+ pounds) turned to face Will down, ducking his head and threatening Will with a charge. Will held his ground (they were face to face, about a foot between their eyes) and stayed cool (I was saying ‘Stea-a-a-a-a-a-dy’ in my lowest and most soothing of voices) and the lamb finally turned and went where Will told him to. A few months ago Will would have exploded at the lamb, not biting but charging forward. That was okay for a young dog; the dog has to win in situations like that (sheep are not stupid, they learn very fast if they can beat a dog) even if the process isn’t elegant. However, it’s much better to keep things calm and quiet. A year ago Will would’ve backed up and the ram lamb would’ve won unless I came in to help (which I would if necessary.) Will just recently turned two, and it is a beautiful thing to watch him grow up and learn to control his emotions, and take charge when he needs to.

But still, really, Wll’s primary value to me is as a companion dog. I guess that means, when it comes down to it, Will is ‘just a pet.‘ Like Lassie, he adds love and light and joy into my life every day. What a gift.

Here are some photos from the last few days. The first shows Willie moving the lambs a few days ago into the orchard pasture (from which they escaped, got in with the ewe flock and probably bred their mothers. sigh.)

This is Lassie digging in the grass (a favorite activity for her) behind part of a huge dead elm clump that had to come down. Cutting it up into firewood and making the rest into wood chips for the garden will take up most of this coming Sunday.

The last photo is of a Katydid.  (who I originally identified as a Snowy Tree Cricket until graciously corrected by a reader! Whoops….) As common as Field Crickets and Katydids are here in Wisconsin, Snowy Tree Crickets are also common, and can tell you the temperature (no kidding). Just count the number of their chirps in 13 seconds (okay, I’ll admit, you often have to record them and slow it down to count!) and add 40, and you’ve go the temp in F. This photo was from a long courtship between a male and a female, all on the side of the house.

5 AM. I wake up to Lassie’s nails clicking on the floor (wasn’t I going to trim them last night?) as a boom of thunder shakes the farmhouse. Damn.  Why is it that Lassie’s slight discomfort of storms has become more serious as her hearing degrades?  Surely it should go the other way around.

We pad downstairs and lay down together on the carpet, she spooning against me as I stroked her head. (And no, it won’t make her more afraid of storms…. check out my column coming out in Bark magazine soon.)  “Eaa-a-a-a-a-a-a-sy” I crooned, using my voice to help her calm herself.  Why didn’t I bring the CD home from “Through a Dog’s Ear,” a new and fantastic book about the effect of sound on dogs? The CD has music
designed by the authors to calm dogs, and both it and the book are invaluable resources for anyone who is interested in dog behavior.

The authors know what they are talking about.  Susan Wagner is a veterinary neurologist and Joshua Leeds is an expert in psychoacoustics. They got together to investigate the effect of sound on dogs, and to create music that could act to calm nervous canines.  Their work is ‘music’ to my ears (sorry), given that my dissertation research was on the effects of different types of sounds on the behavior of domestic animals.  In brief, I found that short, rapidly repeated notes increased activity, while two different types of notes were used all around the world to slow or stop animals. Long, extended one-noted signals (like “Whooooooooaaaa” and “Staaaaaaay”) were used to slow or calm animals, while one, sharp highly-modulated note (think up and down in a brief period of time) were used to stop fast moving animals (‘DOWN!” or “WHOA!).

The research in Through a Dog’s Ear’s follows those same general principles, but adds more, including “harmonic complexity” as well as carefully designed tempos and note intervals.  The authors did research (I can’t wait to see it) that suggested that their calming CD really did settle dogs down.  I talked about this at a seminar I gave in Madison, WI and one participant said her shelter had been using for a while, and it was extremely successful. (So  much so that the dogs who wanted to play chose to go outside, presumably to avoid the effects of the music.) We all listened to the CD, and I swear I had to stop because we all would’ve have gone to sleep. (The authors address that too… they found that dogs settled after just a few minutes, and they could pick up the beat after that to keep the people awake without disturbing the dogs!). I’d love to hear if you have tried it yourself.

I was so impressed with the book that we offer it on our website now (patriciamcconnell.com), but you can get it in lots of places. I haven’t finished reading it yet, but this morning’s storm put finishing it at the top of my reading list.  I’m putting it and the CD in my “take home from the office” bag right now, so that I’ll have it at the farm tonight and tomorrow if the storms come back.

At worst, maybe the  CD will help ME go back to sleep while I cuddle with Lassie through the next set of storms. Here’s my Lassie girl, all fourteen and a half sweet-as-cream years of her.