Uncategorized – Path of Friendship™

Emotional Contagion

“Life is ten percent what you experience and ninety percent how you respond to it.”
~ Dorothy M. Neddermeyer

This is a tense time for all of us. We’re in the middle of a global pandemic, the stock market is in free fall and everywhere you turn there is division and discord. We seemed to be gripped in fear, and the panic is going viral. And even though we diligently wash our hands, avoid crowds and practice “social distancing”, we are still contagious and can infect our dogs – not with a virus, but with anxiety.

Our feelings and emotions, and how we express them, can directly trigger similar feelings and emotions in our dogs. When we become excited and happy, our dogs tend to become excited and happy along with us. When we are anxious and stressed, our dogs can “catch” those feelings from us as well. The closer our relationship is, the more contagious we are. This phenomena is known as Emotional Contagion, and is defined as the: “tendency to automatically mimic and synchronize facial expressions, vocalizations, postures, and movements with those of another person and, consequently, to converge emotionally.”

These days when we are all on edge, we have to think about how we’re effecting, or infecting our dogs.

This hit home for me the other day when I was sitting on the couch watching the news with my dogs Bodhi and Bhakti. I was paying attention to the “talking heads” on television and their gloomy report, when I noticed that Bhakti jumped off the couch and went upstairs. Now, the only time she really does this is when there is tension in the room, such as when my wife and I engage in lively discussions, so I wondered why she did this when I was the only person there. I looked over at Bodhi, and he had a worried expression on his face. My first thought was that they had heard a noise outside that disturbed them, but as I got up to look out of the window, I noticed that Bodhi was fixing his worried gaze on me, as if I had done something to make him anxious. I realized, in fact, I had. I was agitated and upset while engrossed in the news report about the corona virus pandemic, and Bhakti and Bodhi became “infected” by my agitated state. It was a clear case of emotional contagion.

I immediately turned off the television, sat down and took a few deep, mindful breaths. This is like hitting a reset button and I felt much more relaxed. I smiled at Bodhi, who was still a bit unsure. After a few moments of talking to him and rubbing his chest, which he loves, he calmed right down. A moment after that, Bhakti came back into the room with her “Is everything alright?” look, and she calmed down as well. I gave them both a hug and we all went outside to play.

I have always depended on my dogs to help ease my own stress, and now it’s my turn to do the same for them. I making every effort to spread good feelings in order to infect my dogs with love and calmness, and taking specific actions every day to maintain this, even as the world’s chaos surrounds us.

First, I limit my exposure. Not just to crowds and large gatherings, but to the news and social media. I only read the latest updates and then close my computer. Period. I use this time to connect more with my dogs by taking a walk together, playing in the yard, or simply sitting on the couch with them while watching Netflix.

Second, we practice more Shared Mindfulness and metta meditation together. This helps reduce our stress and bring us closer together as friends.

Finally, I practice reverse social distancing and engage in random acts of affection – they get hugs and kisses often throughout the day, even more than usual. This affection seems to be going viral, as I’ve seen them spread this amongst each other. I even witnessed Bhakti give my cat Rocko a kiss, which she never does.

I’m confident this crisis will be over in time, and that our lives will return to a state of normalcy. Until then, my dogs and I will be certain to fight this viral infection with viral affection – and from that, hopefully, we will never recover.

Honor or Betrayal?

Last week I wrote about loving and losing our non-human friends. It was a difficult essay for me to write because of the recent losses my family and friends endured. It also opened some old wounds when I had to say goodbye to my dog Cosmo, just four short years ago this month.

When Cosmo died, I was devastated. I wasn’t sure how I would continue to function on a daily basis, especially since my work is helping people and their dogs live happily together. How would I be able to council someone on developing a great friendship with their dog when my own beloved friend was now gone from my life?

After he died, I didn’t want to leave my house without my best buddy riding next to me as he did for almost 12 years, and yet I didn’t want to stay in my house either – the void was just too great to bear. It was even more difficult when I’d see my other dog Cecil, watch the door, waiting for his friend who would never come home again.

Struggling with my loss, I swore up and down that I would never replace him. Not only did I not want to endure the pain again, but that getting another dog would be a dishonor to him and his memory. Besides, I told myself, I’d always compare another dog to him and that wouldn’t be fair to the new dog. No, I thought firmly, I will never betray my friend Cosmo.

Three days later…

I wasn’t strong enough to bear the emptiness. I needed bring another dog into my life. I decided that since Cosmo was no longer with me, I’d give another dog in need a chance at life. Of course, that dog would never replace Cosmo.

My wife and I took a ride to our local shelter. We looked at many dogs there, all of them in such desperate need of a home of their own, but I needed to give more thought to bringing another dog home so soon. That evening, I looked at some photos that a friend who runs a rescue had posted online. One picture grabbed me.

I can’t say what it was about her picture that made me pause and really look deeper. The dog in the photo wasn’t exactly the type of dog I would normally look at. I had a preference for larger dogs and this one was small to medium. Yet there was something about her that prompted me to inquire further. I messaged my friend and we set up a meet and greet a few days later.

Vanora, what the rescue was calling her, was nothing like the type of dog I was partial to. First of all, she was a she, and I always had a preference for males. Secondly, she was smaller than I usually liked and was brindle-colored, which I didn’t really care for. Meeting her didn’t go so well, either. She never really looked at me – she kept shifting her gaze to the squirrels and chipmunks that were running around in the field we were in. It’s not that she didn’t want to engage with me, but she preferred viewing the wildlife more. How could I ever connect with this small, distracted, brindle female?

I’m happy to say that Vanora, now named Bhakti (which means devotion in Sanskrit), has been the light of my life for the past four years. She is different than any dog I’ve ever had the privilege to share my life with. We have a connection that is on the same level that I had with Cosmo.

In the beginning, I struggled with the thought that I had somehow betrayed Cosmo by loving Bhakti. It felt almost like I was cheating on him, and that he would be jealous. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wasn’t betraying Cosmo, I was honoring him. I remembered a line from my all-time favorite film “Harold and Maude”. In a scene where Maude was dying, Harold tearfully said to her, “Don’t die, Maude, I love you!” Her response was the most profound message I ever heard when it comes to loving and losing: “That’s wonderful! Now go and love some more.”

There is a quote that is credited to the Buddha which says: “Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” I believe this is true with love, too. When our beloved friends leave us, sharing our love with another dog does not diminish our first love, it only strengthens it. Our friends will always occupy unique places in our hearts; nothing can ever replace them. By adding more love to our lives with another dog who needs us, we greatly honor the memory of our departed friends. Not just tucked away in our hearts, but in the daily expression of love we give the friends that are with us.

As We Love, So We Grieve

“When one person is missing the whole world seems empty.”
– Pat Schweibert

This has been a tough few weeks for my friends and family. My daughter unexpectedly lost her cat, Tiggy. A friend of mine had to say goodbye to several of her non-human friends she cares for at her sanctuary, and another friend lost her dog. It seems as if the Universe is reclaiming its precious jewels all at once.

Most of us know that when we choose to share our lives with a dog or any non-human friend, the day will come when we will ultimately part ways. Our dogs and other animal friends become so woven into our lives. We calculate with confidence that we have years before we must say goodbye to them and we store it into the far recesses of our minds, taking comfort in the fact that it’s not imminent. We avoid thinking about how delicate and fragile these threads of friendship are that hold our world together. Yet, as much as we push this thought away, it persistently and stubbornly surfaces on occasion to remind us that the fateful day will come soon enough.

I often wonder why our dogs live only a fraction of the time we do. It would seem that a friendship that’s been thousands of years in the making would last both our lifetimes. Then I remembered what a friend once told me long ago that brought me comfort during a difficult time when one of my dogs passed. Dogs live shorter lives than we do so that they don’t have to endure the pain of losing us. We care for them, protect them and nurture them through the entirety of their lives. They depend deeply on us and we become their whole world. Losing us would be devastating for them, so it stands to reason that by them leaving before we do, they are spared that pain. That is our burden to bear.

We should have no regrets for our dogs when they leave us. They live each moment of their lives to the fullest – not because they do any grand or ambitious thing, but rather because they are completely engaged in the present, and don’t look away from it. Dogs extract every moment from life, whether it is 15 years or 15 days. Their ability to be totally present means they are complete and full, with no residue of regret or unfulfilled dreams. As the philosopher Michel de Montaigne put it:

“The utility of living consists not in the length of days, but in the use of time; a man [dog] may have lived long, and yet lived but a little. Make use of time while it is present with you. It depends upon your will, and not upon the number of days, to have a sufficient length of life.”

To lose a friend is a painful and traumatic event. They are a part of us; a piece of our tapestry that is torn away, only to leave a gaping hole. As much as we try, that hole will never be repaired completely. The scar will always be there. But is this a reason not to become friends in the first place? Or is it, as Tennyson said: “’Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all.”

Our friends are never replaceable, nothing will ever fill that void. But to avoid friendships because we fear the pain of losing them will only create deeper voids. How empty and hollow our lives would be if we never had the privilege of sharing a piece of it, however brief, with our dogs. At least when we remember the friends we have lost, for that moment the hole is filled; the empty space is lined with love. It becomes a testament to them and how they’ve changed our lives for the better. If we were never friends in the first place, we’d still be hollow, but that hollowness would always remain empty. The gaping hole in our life’s tapestry would still be there, but we wouldn’t be aware of it. It would be a small, but persistent feeling of emptiness that we would never be able to identify, like a vague itch that can never be satisfactorily scratched. Yes, it is better to have loved and lost.

As we love, so we grieve. We will have good days and bad days, and that will stay with us always. Through the years I have lost many friends. Some were expected, some were not, none were easy. Sometimes, when I least expect it, a memory of a long gone friend will arise and bring a sharp pang in my heart, but always with a subtle sweetness to it as if to say: “I’m still here. I’m still with you.” The writer Elizabeth Gilbert put it so perfectly: “Grief is a force of energy that cannot be controlled or predicted. It comes and goes on its own schedule. Grief does not obey your plans, or your wishes. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants. In that regard, grief has a lot in common with love.”

As I write this, I see the photographs on my wall of the dogs I had the privilege to share my life with. I look at the dogs who are with me now, sleeping peacefully on my bed, and know that I wouldn’t trade the love or the pain for anything. Because I have both, I am blessed.

Early Morning Reflections

It’s early morning, about 10 minutes before sunrise. As I’m lacing up my hiking shoes, Bhakti is anxiously whining in anticipation of the morning’s hike. I call her over and put on her collar and orange vest. She patiently lifts each paw up for me as I apply Musher’s Secret to protect her feet, while Bodhi watches from the other room. I call Bodhi to me and he hesitantly comes over, excited about what’s to come, but not too happy with the preparation. He stands still while his collar and vest go on, begrudgingly allowing me to apply the Musher’s to his paws. I explain to him that it’s important to take these precautions, and that I want him to be safe on the trail. With a look of reluctant acceptance, he abides. I fill the water bottle, grab the leashes, my backpack and my walking stick and we head out the door into the brisk morning air.

Hiking with my dogs is one of my favorite ways to connect with them. I have been an avid hiker for many years, starting when I trained my St. Bernard Oliver for search and rescue work in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, many years ago. These days my hikes are not as ambitious, but I cherish each one, even though waking up before sunrise is not always fun. The experience of walking on the peaceful morning trails with my two best friends is enough to motivate me to drag myself out of a warm bed.

It’s a short drive to the trailhead. I’m fortunate to live in a community located in the Delaware State Forest of Pennsylvania, so access to a variety of trails is only minutes away. The dogs sit quietly in the back seat, waiting to arrive and begin our walk.

Once we’re on the trail, the dogs get a burst of energy. Bodhi does his “trail dance,” as I call it, where he rubs his butt on every branch, rock and tree stump that he can find. Bhakti, on the other hand, immediately puts her nose to the ground and tracks the most recent visitor to the trail — a squirrel, rabbit, deer or bear. After the first few minutes of walking the trail, the dogs are usually a few paces ahead of me. They constantly look back to see where I am, and I feel they’re saying to me, “Hurry up, human, there’s so much to discover!” or “Don’t lag behind!” I tell them to slow down a bit, that I have only two legs and they have four. Soon, though, we all start to settle down into a steady rhythm together.

During the hike, I like to close my eyes for a few moments at times to listen to the symphony of sounds that surround us: The wind that blows through the branches, the crunching noise from each step I take, the birds calling out to each other and the trickle of a tiny stream. The sounds are ever changing, shifting with the current weather conditions and time of year. I will hike in just about any weather conditions except for sub zero cold, (which is not pleasant for my dogs), heavy rain, strong gusty wind, or heavy ice and snow. Other than that, seasonal changes and the different conditions make each hike new and interesting.

Each time we are on the trail, it seems that for Bhakti and Bodhi it is their first time there. They never seem to have a “been there, done that” attitude. They meticulously explore every inch of the path as if they were asked to write a descriptive essay about the trail when they get home. They spend up to a full minute engrossed in some obscure scent on the end of a leaf, or stand motionless, ears perked, as they look into a dense thicket of trees. It’s during those times that I stop and follow their lead. Very often they’ll spot a deer or a bear that I wouldn’t have seen if not for their superior abilities for scent and sound. I’ve been alerted to many beautiful and sometimes scary creatures by deferring to my dogs’ more advanced senses. One time, what I though was a tree stump, was a large black bear. I would have walked right by him if my dogs hadn’t frozen in their tracks and stared at him. Fortunately, he was uninterested and walked into the woods. Sometimes, the dogs find a skull of an animal; usually a deer. When I see it, I feel a bit sad — the final destination of that animal’s life, I think, recalling the sentiment from Tom Brown, Jr.’s wonderful book about the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, “The Tracker.”

We usually hike between four and five miles, and when we’re finished, it seems like Bhakti and Bodhi can go ten miles more without hesitation. For me, I’m usually satisfied and look forward to getting into a nice hot shower, resting, and eating a big breakfast.

For Bhakti and Bodhi, our hikes immerse them in a world I can never be a part of. My world is from my human perspective, where I’m always thinking ahead, trying to be safe and planning my hike so I can get home in time to begin my day’s responsibilities. For them, they are simply connected with the ground beneath their feet, the scent of the forest in their nostrils and the melody of the wind through the trees. I try to take time to become more mindful of these experiences, but compared to my dogs, I’m just scratching the surface. Our time together on the trails is something I cherish deeply. I learn so much from my two friends on our morning treks, and try to carry it with me through the rest of my day. I don’t know where our future trails together will lead, but wherever it takes us, we will always be learning, living and loving together on the Path of Friendship.

I Love All Dogs, But Pure Breeds at Westminster Break My Heart

One of my fondest memories of when I was just starting out in my career as an animal behavior consultant was when I attended the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. I remember spending hours backstage, where all the Poodles, Pomeranians and Portuguese Water Dogs were getting ready for their time in the ring. Seeing all those breeds and interacting with them up close and personal was a thrill for an up-and-coming behaviorist.

This wasn’t my first foray into the show dog world. I used to go every year to Lyndhurst Mansion in Tarrytown, New York, where they had a dog show on the beautiful grounds of the estate. Even before that, when I was just 10 years old, I attended a dog show in New Jersey, and although I competed in obedience, I have memories of seeing all the different breeds of dogs parading around the ring, vying for best in show. It was an amazing experience that I’ll always cherish.

I have loved dogs — all dogs, pedigreed or pedestrian — my entire life. I love their individual personalities and the way they seem to exist in the present without worrying so much about what happened yesterday or what may happen tomorrow. I grew to respect their outlook so much that I turned dogs into my full-time career, working with show dogs, law enforcement K-9s and animals with extreme behavior problems. My present focus is dogs suffering from emotional trauma and fear.

But when I happened to see a Facebook post the other day that asked, “Should individual dog breeds still exist?” I had to answer with an emphatic “No!”

Now, I usually don’t reply to these things on social media, because I don’t like getting drawn into online debates. But with so many dogs sitting on cold concrete floors in animal shelters waiting for homes of their own, I felt compelled to answer.

I explained that there are too many dogs abandoned and dying in animal shelters for more to be continually “manufactured” by breeders. Besides, most purebred dogs are no longer used for their original purpose. When was the last time you saw a Bulldog baiting a bull? Or a Great Dane or Shar-Pei hunting wild boar? For the most part, we have specific breeds now just to satisfy our own desires for “style.”

This got an angry response from several Facebookers, who accused me of being naïve and ignorant. One said I should go “kiss a mutt,” which I actually did, since my mixed breed Bodhi was sitting next to me. Normally at this point, I would have logged out of Facebook and gone about my day, maybe taking my dogs for a walk (and kissing a mutt many more times). But for some reason, I decided to fight this one out.

“What is the purpose of breeds in this day and age?” I asked. “Who does it benefit — us or the dogs?”

I continued: “Genetically manipulating dogs for profit to serve the whims and pleasures of humans is a selfish and anthropocentric thing to do. It is essentially eugenics, and reminds me of the scene in the film ‘Gattica,’ where the parents are discussing with their doctor how to ‘create’ a genetically superior child. Many of the breeds are genetically predisposed to physical problems, like breathing issues with some English Bulldogs and skin issues with Chinese Shar-Peis, to name a few. So why do we feel entitled to perpetuate this indifferent suffering of our supposed best friends?”

As I waited for the responses, I’m pretty sure that I heard the sounds of knives and daggers being unsheathed somewhere off in the social media cyberspace. Then the comments came — and came.

— “Why do you hate dogs so much?”
— “You are an idiot — there are many excellent breeders that care for their dogs a great deal!”
— “These breeds have been with us since the dawn of time, and they need to be preserved.”

I obviously had struck a nerve.

First, dog breeds have not been with us from the beginning. Specific breeds, documented with written pedigrees, probably began with the English Foxhound, around the 17th century. Before that, dogs were more “types” than pedigreed breeds, like sight hounds, scenting dogs, comfort dogs and others. The truth is, humans and dogs have existed for thousands and thousands of years together without the need for genetic manipulation. We were equal partners, and people didn’t feel superior or entitled to control every aspect of a dog’s existence, like character and physical appearance.

As far as preserving specific breed standards, there are many breed registering organizations, and each one has a slightly different breed standard. Other than the American Kennel Club, there’s the Canadian Kennel Club, Fédération Cynologique Internationale, and United Kennel Club, just to name a few. The AKC standard for a German Shepherd is 22-24 inches at the withers and the standard from the FCI is 23.5-25.5 inches. If each has a slightly different standard, “will the real breed please stand up?”

Also, if you were to look at the same breeds as they exist now, compared to 50 or 100 years ago, there are often striking differences — so what exactly are we preserving?

After I made that point on Facebook, someone chimed in, “It’s natural.”

“Oh really?” I snarked. “If you put German Shepherds, Labradors, Bernese Mountain Dogs, Pointers and Standard Poodles together, would the same breeds only mate with the same breeds? I think not. If we have to interfere and control, then there’s nothing natural about it, it’s all man-made.”

Besides, how natural is a Pug? Or a Poodle?

At this point, Bodhi was looking at me a bit concerned — I was becoming agitated. I kissed my mutt again and continued:

“As for me being a ‘dog-hater,’” addressing the other comment, “I think you are confused about what love and hate really mean. If we love dogs only for how they can serve us, and satisfy our selfish desire for fashion or utility or status, then that is not love at all. Breeds exist solely for the purpose of serving us humans, it does nothing for the dog.”

Authentic love, as Simone de Beauvoir said, must be “reciprocal and non-exploitative,” and where each member is free. Genetic manipulation is control and exploitation, pure and simple. As Aristotle described, the purest form of love and friendship is not based on how we can benefit from the relationship, it is unconditional love.

In my own practice working with dogs for over 35 years, I have seen many purebreds suffer from chronic frustration and stress because they cannot do what their DNA wants them to do, like hunting or herding; it’s like having an itch they can never scratch.

I asked on Facebook, “Is it worth putting dogs through this just so we can enjoy a particular size or color?”

No response. I took the opportunity to continue…

“I realize that many breeders care deeply for their dogs, and go to great lengths to keep them healthy and provide them with loving homes, but what about the ones that don’t meet expectations? Are they disposed of the way a grocer disposes of subpar fruit?”

Many people get a certain breed with the anticipation of how the dog will look and behave, and if the animal turns out to be different, it is often given away or neglected. I was witness to this on a daily basis during my years as branch director of behavior and outreach for the Pennsylvania SPCA.

I looked at Bodhi, but he decided to take a nap. I probably should have done the same. I waited for the barrage of responses — I was not disappointed.

Response after response came — fast and furious. I realize that many people have a large emotional and financial investment in keeping breeds going; the pet business is a multibillion-dollar industry, and there is a lot at stake.

As I read through the mostly angry comments — telling me I “didn’t know what I was talking about,” and how I should probably “never have a dog of my own because I am too dumb” — I was struck by one thing: not one person was able to rebut my position that breeding is solely and selfishly for humans, and does nothing to help dogs.

I wondered if these people were just being too emotional in their responses, and that later on, when they had time to reflect, they might think otherwise. Then I remembered what Mark Twain said: “No amount of evidence will ever persuade an idiot.” Of course, they would say that about me, as well.

I had had enough at this point. As I closed my computer, I couldn’t help thinking about the millions and millions of dogs that are given up to shelters every year. The argument that continuing breeding is good for dogs should be revised to say that it’s good only for some dogs. The more dogs we create, the less chance a dog in a shelter who needs a loving home will actually find one. The truth is, we have breeds because it pleases us. When we see a dog only in terms of its breed, then we only know them conceptually, and not as individuals. That’s not loving dogs.

Yes, the dogs at Westminster are glamorous and the excitement of competition can be compelling. But when the stage lights go off and we’re back home again, what do we really want to connect with? An avatar image or a living, breathing, imperfectly perfect dog? For me, I prefer to just kiss my mutt.

Watch Corey Cohen on NY Times Readalong

Check out the New York Times Readalong on Sunday morning 8:30 – 10:00 am EST.

I’ll be discussing the Westminster Dog Show and other topics with Sree Sreenivasan.

I’ll also be taking some questions. Hope you can join us for this informative and enjoyable event!

When Can We NOT Afford to Save Our Dogs?

It was a horrible time for me and my German Shepherd Cosmo. He desperately needed perineal surgery in order to survive, and I was not in the best financial position. The surgery costs thousands. I had just renewed my friendship with him, and I couldn’t let him die… he was my friend…

This harrowing situation is all too common. I know many people struggle emotionally and financially with difficult decisions like this. Can we really put a price on our dogs lives? Fortunately at that time, I had been putting single dollar bills into an old water cooler jug for a couple of years, and when I broke it open I had enough to cover most of Cosmo’s surgery. I was lucky, but many are forced to make a gut-wrenching choice.

Society primarily regards dogs as possessions and chattel, and assigns a dollar amount to them. But with compelling new research on the depth of the human/canine bond, often rivaling or surpassing human-to-human bonds, we should rethink how we deal with our dogs’ health care costs and perhaps subsidize our dogs’ health.

Veterinary care is not inexpensive. Treatments for cancer can run up to $15,000, according to CareCredit.com, and injuries and emergency treatments can run just as high. Pet insurance is available, but the process can be so cumbersome. I recently had a lump surgically removed and biopsied from my dog Bodhi, and filing a claim with my pet insurance company was not pleasant. I had to pay up front, and getting my claim approved was tedious and frustrating. I am still waiting for my reimbursement. The best part of the ordeal: the mass was benign.

Recently, you may have heard about Scout, the seven-year-old Golden Retriever mascot from WeatherTech commercials. He was diagnosed with cancer. His owner, David MacNeil, the founder of WeatherTech, took him to the University of Wisconsin at Madison School of Veterinary Medicine. Luckily, his treatments seem to be working. In fact, in Super Bowl 54 this year, there will be an ad from WeatherTech asking viewers to donate money to the University of Wisconsin at Madison School of Veterinary Medicine to fund more cancer research.

This is a great cause, but how many of us could afford to give our own dogs that same veterinary care? I worry about the future when my own beloved friends may need extensive veterinary care, and I might not be able to afford it — even with insurance.

I don’t fault veterinarians for the high costs involved. Compared to human physicians, veterinarians earn much less, yet they deal with the same life-and-death issues on a daily basis.

The question then is, should dog’s veterinary care be subsidized or tax credits given for those whose income levels are below a certain level? I know, we have enough problems right now in this country with our own health care, but since our dogs are essentially family members, there should be a better way to ensure that money is not making the decision for us whether our dogs live or die.

The problem is that in spite of so much research to the contrary, we do not value dogs as equal members of the family. I think this stems from our culture’s idea that dogs are ultimately replaceable — that they are simply pets. Maybe it’s because their life spans are shorter than ours, or they are not as intellectually advanced. Yet we don’t deny a senior citizen, a physically or intellectually disabled human the medical care they need. We value all human life equally (at least I hope we do), so why not add our beloved friends, our dogs to the equation? I think seeing them as lesser beings reflects an anthropocentric view where humans deserve more than any other species. That is a sad commentary on us as a society. I learned many years ago that all life is sacred. When it comes to our dogs, that is especially true.

Realistically speaking, I don’t see any subsidies or tax deductions happening for veterinary care in the near future. We have to work through our own human health care costs first. In the meantime, there are a few ways we can prepare for any emergency that may arise with our dogs, so that we are not put in a difficult position:
1. Explore pet health insurance options. While not inexpensive, they can help pay for many high veterinarian costs. Make sure to shop around, speak to those who use it and read reviews.
2. Start your own pet health savings account. Put money away each month in a separate savings account so when and if the unthinkable happens, you’ll be prepared.
3. Look for low-cost veterinary clinics in your area. Speak with your local animal shelter and rescue organizations for more information.
4. Ask for help online. Places like GoFundMe and others can be a way to help you get the money you need to help your dog. Many people have big hearts and really want to help.
5. Take out a line of credit. Places like CareCredit.com and even your own credit cards may help you get out of a jam. Of course, these don’t come cheap because you’ll be paying interest if you don’t pay back the full amount quickly.
6. There are charitable organizations, like The Pet Fund and the Brown Dog Foundation, that can help you out if you are eligible.

We all wish our dogs would stay healthy and be with us forever. The fact that most of us will at some point need to say goodbye to our friends is something we don’t want to think about. We can keep our dogs healthy by feeding them high quality food, giving them exercise, and spending quality one-on-one time with them. Unfortunately, this will still not guarantee that the unthinkable won’t happen. If it does, our bank accounts should not be a deciding factor on our dogs’ lives.

“The bond with a true dog is as lasting as the ties of this earth will ever be.”
~ Konrad Lorenz

The Whispers of the Gods

When Emerson wrote so beautifully in his essay on Friendship: “Let us be silent – that we may hear the whispers of the Gods,” he probably wasn’t thinking about Dogs. Yet, if we are to have a true friendship with our Dogs, then we must first learn to listen to each other. This doesn’t imply obeying each other, rather it means being quiet enough to actually listen and hear each other’s ideas, concerns, needs, and feelings. It means following Stephen Covey’s excellent advice to “Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” (7 Habits of Highly Effective People).

Listening is a skill that needs to be developed and cultivated. Our culture is becoming increasingly self-absorbed and self-centered. We care more about seeking the spotlight for ourselves and less about shining our light of attention on others, except when it serves our own interests. We love to hear our own chatter – and we chatter in so many ways. Social media has become a Mecca for our narcissistic voice. Texting and emailing enables us to talk without having to listen to the response. When responses do come, they have been reduced to a few symbols and emojis. This begs the question: If we are all doing the talking, then who is left to listen?

Covey goes on to say, “Most people do not listen with the intent to understand. They listen with the intent to reply.” How sadly true this statement is.

“Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.”
~ William Faulkner (Mosquitos)

Perhaps all our talking is another way of trying to be in control, which our culture is obsessed with. But, as I said earlier, if we want a genuine and deeply connected friendship with our Dogs we must learn to let go of control, step back from ourselves, and simply listen. This act of letting go and listening is an act of faith – faith in our Dogs, faith in ourselves, and faith in our friendship.

“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes and the grass grows by itself.”
~ Zen poem

Listening means silence. It is following Will Roger’s sage advice to: “Never miss a good chance to shut up.” This results in being completely and wholly receptive to our Dogs. It is in this silence that connections are forged and where friendships grow and flourish.

“In silence there is eloquence. Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.”
~Rumi

Only through silence can we listen, and listen we must. To truly know our Dogs we must silence the endless chatter. We must silence the voices that try to tell us how things should be. We must silence those voices of the “experts” that try to define our Dogs, without ever stepping foot into their space – their sacred space reserved only for those who’s mind and heart are open to receive. That space is for us and our Dogs alone, as friends and as equals.

“Some people talk to animals. Not many listen though. That’s the problem.”
~. A. A. Milne

This sacred space requires us to have empathy, humility, acceptance, trust, faith, and especially presence. Our complete attention to each other provides the sunlight where our friendship can grow. Without it, our friendship will whither and die as a flower planted in the shade.

“The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention.”
~ Richard Moss

Erich Fromm (March 23, 1900 – March 18, 1980), the humanistic and social psychologist and philosopher wrote in his book, “The Art of Listening”, that there are six basic principles to listening. I’d like to list them here, and under each one I will offer my own interpretation of how it may be applied to our friendship with our Dogs.

Fromm’s six principles:

“The basic rule for practicing this art is the complete concentration of the listener.”
(This is focus, attentiveness, presence and mindful awareness of each other.)

“Nothing of importance must be on his mind, he must be optimally free from anxiety as well as from greed.”
(The goal must be understanding, not what we can gain or lose.)

“He must possess a freely-working imagination which is sufficiently concrete to be expressed in words.”
(We must have a “beginner’s mind, and not analyze everything.)

“He must be endowed with a capacity for empathy with another person and strong enough to feel the experience of the other as if it were his own.”
(We must feel how our Dog feels, and embody their experience.)

“The condition for such empathy is a crucial facet of the capacity for love. To understand another means to love him — not in the erotic sense but in the sense of reaching out to him and of overcoming the fear of losing oneself.”
(This is transcending the self, having faith, and letting go.)

“Understanding and loving are inseparable. If they are separate, it is a cerebral process and the door to essential understanding remains closed.”
(This is unconditional love and acceptance.)

Although it may feel uncomfortable at first, this type of listening with our whole being creates a safe space for our Dogs and ourselves. It is the fertile ground, the terra firma, where our friendship will grow and bloom. It is where we “embrace each other’s souls”; what the Aztecs called “apapacho”. For true friendship is silence. It doesn’t need a string of words to bind us together. Constant talking separates us. It as Kahlil Gibran so eloquently put in The Prophet: “For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.”

It is only in this silence, that we can truly communicate, connect and heal one another.

Prickle or Goo, which one are you? And is your Dog one, too?

When I was a child, one of my favorite television shows was Gumby. There were two characters on that show that I really enjoyed. One was a yellow dinosaur named “Prickle”, and the other was a blue mermaid called “Goo”. Although they didn’t appear in many of the episodes, I remember them better than any other characters from the show. Later on in life, while I became immersed in my studies of psychology, philosophy and eastern thought, they surprisingly showed up again in a lecture from Alan Watts. When it comes to our Dogs and the people who care for them, Prickle and Goo are not kid’s stuff.

It turns out that Art Clokey, the creator of Gumby, once attended a lecture of Alan Watts, where he first learned of the the concepts of “prickles” and “goo”, and subsequently named his claymation characters after Alan Watts’ conception of the “interchange of two personalities” in the fields of art, philosophy and poetry. Prickle is precise, rigid, mechanistic; where goo is flexible, organic and abstract. Prickly people are always concerned with plans, formulas, recipes and algorithms, whereas gooey people are more spontaneous, flexible, creative and sometimes vague. The prickly people accuse the gooey people of being too nebulous and too etherial whereas the gooey people call the prickles skeletal, with no meat; knowing the words, but not feeling the music. It’s a quarrel that’s as old as time, with no definitive winner in sight.

I find this comparison exactly describes what happens with many people involved with Dogs. There are those who are concerned mainly with behavior – how a dog acts moment to moment. They have certain rigid criteria about what a Dog “should” be like, and try to fit each Dog into this narrow box of conformity. These folks believe Skinnerian behaviorism is the answer to all the problems, having precise formulas, reinforcement schedules and inflexible boundaries as if their Dog was a mechanism that had a set of exact operating instructions. These Dogs appear machine-like in their behavior, but one look in their eyes and you see they lack an inner light. The people who care for these Dogs are prickly.

Then there are those who give no boundaries to their Dogs. Who offer no guidance or direction, and believe that Dogs should be 100 percent free to do as they want. They feel as if their Dogs should have total liberty, disregarding any concern for their safety or the feelings of others. These Dogs are the ones who are always soiling on the neighbors property, and unfortunately are the ones who get lost or hit by cars. The people who care for these Dogs are gooey.

The truth is that neither of these extremes contribute to our Dog’s sense of well-being. The best way, and the way that most of us are, is to be as Alan Watts said, “gooey prickles or prickly goo”. Using elements of both styles is the best way to help our Dogs have emotional wellness.

This idea, then, begs the question: do our Dogs possess the same attributes? Are our Dogs prickly or gooey? I think they are. In fact, with all the so-called evaluation processes that are being used for Dogs, I think that knowing if you have a Prickle or a Goo is the most valuable.

Your dog is a prickles if she is very routine driven, bossy, always on alert, and likes to have her own way.

Your Dog is a goo if he is laid back, very adaptable, has very few concerns, and goes with the flow.

Of course, just like us, most dogs are a combination of both.

I think the most difficult cases I’ve worked with are when there’s a prickly Dog and a gooey Human, or a gooey Human and a prickly Dog. That’s often not a great match, and the two never usually get to what I call kenzoku, the ultimate relationship between people and their Dogs. If you feel that you and your Dog are on opposite sides of this spectrum, there are a few things you can do to make the relationship better.

First, if you are gooey and your Dog is prickly, get in touch with your prickly side; if you are prickly, then get in touch with your gooey side. As I mentioned, all of us have both in us, and if we are open to it, we can see the benefit of being the other way. Second, look for the opposite in your Dog, and help them get in touch with their other side. Finally, remember that a great relationship is when we can learn from each other, so use the differences to your advantage. Friendship is prickly goo and gooey prickles.

I tend to be rather gooey. I believe this stems from my holistic, relational and humanistic view of the world rather than a reductionist, transactional and mechanistic view of things, especially when it comes to dogs and their relationship with us. It’s not that I don’t have my prickly side, however. When I hike with my Dogs, I am a stickler for safety protocol, such as keeping within line of sight, not chasing the wildlife, and not pooping on the trial. My Dog Bhakti is definitely gooey. She tends to go with the flow and be spontaneous, while my Dog Bodhi is much more prickly. He thrives on routines and rituals, and can can become stressed when the unexpected arises. Interestingly, Bodhi follows everything Bhakti does, so that begs the question: Is a gooey Dog more confident than a prickly one? Maybe we’ll explore that in a future essay.

Ok, so this article may be a bit tongue-in-cheek, but there’s still some truth to it. Just like us, our Dogs have distinct styles and characters, and if we are to truly connect with them, we must know what they are and learn from them. It’s not always about changing who our Dogs are, nor is it always about changing ourselves. An empowering friendship is based on a harmonious interplay between personality types and a deep appreciation for each other as individuals. And that’s not kid’s stuff.

When Are You Coming Home…?

“Attachment is a deep and enduring emotional bond that connects one person to another across time and space.”
~ Bowlby & Ainsworth

“It’s tearing my world apart.”, said Kim, speaking about her 2 year old pit-bull mix, Tank. “I can’t leave the house to go to work without coming home to a disaster.” “I don’t really care about the stuff he destroys, I’m just worried that he’ll injure himself again.” “I’ve had him to the vet several times because he’s cut his paws and mouth on stuff, and I’m afraid for his safety.”

This is an all too common scenario I’ve encountered over the years. Separation Anxiety Disorder (SAD), is a frustrating and potentially dangerous problem that adversely effects relationships between Humans and Dogs. The ironic thing is that the problem itself is relational, and prone to the snowball effect: the more troubled the relationship, the more SAD is experienced, the more SAD is experienced, the more troubled the relationship.

According to the DSM, “Separation anxiety disorder is the inappropriate and excessive display of fear and distress when faced with situations of separation from the home or from a specific attachment figure.” And while the DSM addresses issues involving Humans, this definition is equally relevant with our Dogs. It often manifests itself in destructive behaviors, such as scratching or biting at doors and windows, tearing up shoes, pillows, books, carpets… really any object that may have an association to the Human. It can also manifest itself in depression, which can display as the refusal to take treats or toys or to acknowledge petting and other signs of affection. And it can show itself as excessive “neediness”, where the Dog cannot seem to get enough attention and is constantly asking for more.

Popular methods to help with this issue have been focused on distraction, such as filling a toy with peanut butter. Another way is confinement and caging. Other methods utilize calming devices such as compression shirts and essential oils, and there is even the pharmacological approach, using drugs such as such as alprazolam (Xanax), fluoxetine (Prozak), clomipramine (Clomicalm) or, more recently, cannabis extracts. While these methods have had some success, they fail to get to the root of the problem, which is relational.

Rather than approaching this issue from a behavioral perspective, I have found far greater success when I have used a theory from evolutionary psychology, called “attachment theory”. Attachment theory originated In the late 1950’s from the work of Dr. John Bowlby and was expanded in the 1970’s by Dr. Mary Ainsworth. They both successfully disputed and contradicted the popular behavioristic theories that attachment is simply a learned behavior, which states that a child becomes attached to the mother simply because she feeds the infant. Bowlby showed that attachment can be understood within an evolutionary context, in that the caregiver provides safety and security for the child. A secure attachment increases the child’s chances of survival. As this applies to our Dogs, when we develop a relationship with them, they become dependent on us for survival and need to develop secure attachments with us as well. Separation anxiety is often caused by insecure attachments. Creating a friendship that is a secure base (as Bowlby stated) is the best way to permanently help this situation.

When we use a behavioristic approach, such as distraction, we are trying to substitute a solid and secure friendship with a treat-filled toy. When we use confinement, that only serves to bring about a state of “learned helplessness”, where our Dogs essentially just give up, or often exacerbates the situation by stacking one stressful situation on top of another. Compression shirts are a poor substitute for a genuine physical connection, and are reminiscent of the controversial experiments done by Harry Harlow with Rhesus monkeys. And finally, drugs will calm your Dog down, but as in all of these other behavioristic approaches, it serves only to temporarily alleviate the symptoms, and never gets to the root of the problem. The root of the problem, as I have stated, is relational. We need to develop a secure friendship with our Dogs to help them feel safe when we are not with them.

There are a few ways to prevent and heal the disconnect with our Dogs that leads to separation anxiety:

First:

Never make your love contingent on good behavior. This is something that I see so many trainers do, and it makes me furious! In a traditional Skinnerian behavioristic approach, we are told to only reinforce “good” behavior with petting, affection and treats, and to ignore “bad” behavior. In other words, what these trainers are suggesting is that we tell our Dogs, “I’ll only love you if…”, If you behave the way I want you to, if you stop acting like a Dog, if you conform to arbitrary standards and become a “good citizen”, etc. When we dole out our love as if it were a commodity that our Dogs are only worthy of if they behave in a particular way, then we are driving a wedge between us, creating an insecure base where our Dogs live in a world of uncertainty and doubt. This makes them always anxious about doing the “right” thing. Techniques that use “love withdrawal” as motivation are holding our Dog’s hearts and souls hostage, and will greatly damage the relationship.

The best way to create a secure base and have our dogs never doubt that they are safe in our friendship with them is to love them unconditionally. This means we show them that we love them, regardless of how they are acting. We may want to change their behavior, but that should be an act of compassion and guidance without using our love as a bargaining chip.

Second:

Use calming exercises to help with anxiety. One way is to use Shared Mindfulness and other calming exercises, which connects you and your Dog on a deep level. Another way is to massage your dog. There is an abundance of information out there on various techniques that can help. My only suggestion is that you do this with your Dog, and don’t send him to someone else. This is a bonding and calming experience between the two of you, and it loses that value when someone else is doing it. Of course, for therapeutic massage to help with physical ailments, it’s always best to see a specialist.

Finally:

Practice Stay, not Wait. Many people confuse these two different exercises we try to teach our Dogs, and all too often its the Wait that is emphasized. I witness trainers and behaviorists teaching Dogs to stay by using a treat, telling them “Stay”, and after a few minutes releasing them where the Dog runs back to the person and gets a treat. This is a classic example a tension building exercise. The longer your Dog “stays” in this situation, the more tension and stress is created. This is akin to stopping at a red light a block before your final destination. When you’re at the red light, you are “staying” there, but what happens as that red light drags on? Do you feel more relaxed, or more tense and anxious to continue? The answer is obvious.

When we work with our Dogs in Stay, the message should be clear: “Stay here and relax until I come back for you.” The more our Dogs understand this, the more secure they will be when we are absent, and the better they will be able to relax when they are by themselves. In order to communicate this to our Dogs, we have to refrain from any extrinsic motivation such as a food reward, or punishment. It is a matter of gently and persistently helping our Dogs to relax (using one of the techniques above), telling them Stay, and moving away from them. Then, coming back to them to show them that it’s ok to be without us for a moment. As we gradually increase the time and distance, they will become confident that although we are gone, they are safe. This creates a secure connection and safe attachment. This can then easily translate into “staying” at home securely when we leave, and waiting confidently for us to return.

Helping our Dogs overcome the anxiety and stress they feel when they are home alone is never an easy task. It takes time, patience and commitment to the friendship to ensure success. Fortunately, when we create a secure attachment with each other, and a deep and connected friendship, our Dogs and ourselves will never feel alone, even when we are miles apart.