Authors Barbara Natterson-Horwitz, MD and Kathryn Bowers open their book, Zoobiquity: The Astonishing Connection Between Human and Animal Health with an incident that will be familiar to many dog and cat folks. When faced with a kitten-sized emperor tamarin monkey, Dr. Horowitz immediately related to the animal as she would to a human infant by establishing eye contact and doing the baby talk routine. However what happened next may strike some of you as bizarre and even mean. The veterinarian caring for the animal asked the physician to stop lest she throw the little creature into capture myopathy and possibly kill her. Granted this animal had a heart problem to begin with; but even healthy animals may die of this condition. Even more troubling, it may affect domestic as well as wild animals and there’s no treatment. Worst of all, we humans cause it.
For me, the author’s experience came as no surprise because I knew that wild animals pursued by or otherwise related to by humans in a manner the animals perceive as predatory literally could die of fright. And in a remarkably short time, too. I also knew it could affect animals of all species and regardless of age or sex. But until I read that passage in Zoobiquity I never mentally linked this more acute and deadly phenomenon to one that routinely occurs in many human-companion animal interactions. I most commonly encounter this in human-canine interactions, but I’ve seen it in those involving cats, horses, donkeys, and young animals of just about every species.
Perhaps because we’re consciously or subconsciously breeding companion animals for more infantile features or because we assume that relating to them as members of the family means relating to them as infants or little kids, a fair number of us routinely stare and babble at animals when greeting them. These same two factors also seem to predispose more women than men to communicate with animals in this manner. In the majority of situations the animals so addressed respond in ways those using this approach perceive as positive. Typically, they become more excited. More introverted dogs may hunker down or go belly up, sometimes closing their eyes and/or furiously wagging only the tips of tails held tight against their tummies. Some of these animals even may pee. More extroverted dogs may jump up on or lean against people, shove noses or toys in human crotches, run around in circles, all often accompanied by vocalizations of some sort.
Nothing life-threatening there, is there? Especially in a young puppy. We could easily make a case for the animal enjoying these interactions as much as we do.
Now let’s consider the responses of frightened puppies or more mature dogs who feel protective of their people and property for some reason, and also lack the confidence and experience to accept this unnatural obligation. (It’s unnatural because we’re supposed to protect our dogs as well as the rest of our stuff, not vice versa.) When someone greets these dogs that same way, we may see a completely different canine response. In this case, more introverted animals may back up (or attempt to do so), raise their hackles, and growl. If they can’t escape they may lunge and snap at or bite the person, the display of choice for more extroverted dogs.
Of the overtly aggressive group, I’d like to discuss those dogs who go for the greeter’s face because that’s the image that flashed through my mind when I read the Zoobiquity discussion of capture myopathy. Because dogs normally grab or try to grab the muzzles of animals they perceive as acting in an insubordinate manner, I assumed that the face-grabbing displays exhibited toward these people were strictly rank-related. That is, because these dogs were playing by canine rather than human rules (for behavioral and bond reasons), they perceived this combination of human signals as simultaneously threatening and insubordinate. In such a way, the greeter functioned not only as someone signaling a desire to claim these animals and all that they—the animals—considered their territory, but also as a demented someone wishing to do that.
Why do I say demented? Because no animal actively communicating higher status to another animal by, for example, staring at the other, would simultaneously vocalize and use body language that communicates submission. It makes no sense to do such a thing. It’s crazy. No sane animal would do such a thing. And yet here is this person doing exactly that. What’s a sane dog to do under such circumstances?
So went my thought processes which in no way should be interpreted as my excusing the behavior of dogs who display such aggression or those owners who accept it. I don’t. I had enough reasons for discouraging people from interacting this way with animals long before I read Zoobiquity. And I felt confident enough about the ethological and physiological validity of those reasons that being sometimes harshly criticized for taking this approach didn’t dissuade me. True, being accused of being mean, frigid, unloving and a host of other repellent mental states wasn’t and isn’t a lot of fun. On the other hand, I learned early in my career working with fearful aggressive dogs that if I wanted to trigger an attack, the stare-babble routine was a great way to do it. Because I prefer to set up my patients to succeed rather than fail, this never struck me a very caring thing to do.
But aside from that, the thoughts triggered by reading the Zoobiquity discussion of capture myopathy included considering the possibility that these active displays of aggression might somehow protect animals from the more deadly capture myopathy. Of course, displaying aggression could result in euthanasia of the animal. But if properly done that wouldn’t be nearly as painful.
Sad to say, this is yet another of those areas that didn’t yield any concrete evidence one way or another. But the exercise does cause me to plea yet again for sane, low-keyed animal greeting rituals and teaching kids to greet animals likewise. If experience with our own animals convinces us that such greetings don’t negatively stress them or contribute to other problematic behaviors, then there’s no reason to change it. But with stressed or unfamiliar animals, the most caring and courteous response remains the calming one.
However, what about all those veterinarians, veterinary staff, trainers, dog-walkers, and groomers who display this same behavior? Some of them may lack the behavioral knowledge to realize what they’re doing. In that case, politely asking them not to address your animal in that manner should solve the problem. Others animal care professionals personally don’t like this form of greeting, but they display the behavior because their clients expect it or they think their clients do. In this case, they may use the greeting because they fear those folks will accuse them of not liking animals and take their business elsewhere. These folks will be delighted to greet your animals in a more low-keyed way.
Perhaps the worst of the stare-babble greeters are those who feel compelled to greet animals this way for some reason. In these situations the more negatively the animal reacts, the more determined these folks are to prove their love by putting even more energy into such greetings. This further stresses the animal which causes the person to become even more effusive… I’m sure you can see where this is heading. In these situations, physically removing the animal from the situation provides the best solution.
At the same time, these proposed solutions raises a troubling question. Whether we opt to greet timid or otherwise compromised human infants and toddlers, wild or domestic animals, or family pets in this manner, on whom should the onus to change his or her behavior rest? Should it rest on the recipient of the behavior or on its source?
I recorded a series of podcasts under the general heading The Animal X-Files in which I explored other concepts related to the human-animal bond that Zoobiquity caused me to ponder. In the first of these, The Loss of Wholeness I discuss how veterinary medicine’s choice to pattern itself after human medicine has burdened some clinicians with the tendency to perceive anything different as pathological. Thus relevant to the subject of this commentary, when a timid animal cringes, attempts to withdraw or lashes out out when we do something we consider quite positive, the conditioned response may be to perceive this as the animal’s problem, not ours; the animal should be drugged or trained to endure such interactions.
But when any of us behaves in a manner that causes those we define as lesser and more vulnerable to experience behavioral pain and also possibly physical pain, that troubles me deeply. Maybe my logic is flawed. But if we define ourselves as caring people, shouldn’t we be willing to muster the self-control to change our own behavior to relieve animals of that pain, at least until they gain the wherewithal to tolerate it?
For me, the author’s experience came as no surprise because I knew that wild animals pursued by or otherwise related to by humans in a manner the animals perceive as predatory literally could die of fright. And in a remarkably short time, too. I also knew it could affect animals of all species and regardless of age or sex. But until I read that passage in Zoobiquity I never mentally linked this more acute and deadly phenomenon to one that routinely occurs in many human-companion animal interactions. I most commonly encounter this in human-canine interactions, but I’ve seen it in those involving cats, horses, donkeys, and young animals of just about every species.
Perhaps because we’re consciously or subconsciously breeding companion animals for more infantile features or because we assume that relating to them as members of the family means relating to them as infants or little kids, a fair number of us routinely stare and babble at animals when greeting them. These same two factors also seem to predispose more women than men to communicate with animals in this manner. In the majority of situations the animals so addressed respond in ways those using this approach perceive as positive. Typically, they become more excited. More introverted dogs may hunker down or go belly up, sometimes closing their eyes and/or furiously wagging only the tips of tails held tight against their tummies. Some of these animals even may pee. More extroverted dogs may jump up on or lean against people, shove noses or toys in human crotches, run around in circles, all often accompanied by vocalizations of some sort.
Nothing life-threatening there, is there? Especially in a young puppy. We could easily make a case for the animal enjoying these interactions as much as we do.
Now let’s consider the responses of frightened puppies or more mature dogs who feel protective of their people and property for some reason, and also lack the confidence and experience to accept this unnatural obligation. (It’s unnatural because we’re supposed to protect our dogs as well as the rest of our stuff, not vice versa.) When someone greets these dogs that same way, we may see a completely different canine response. In this case, more introverted animals may back up (or attempt to do so), raise their hackles, and growl. If they can’t escape they may lunge and snap at or bite the person, the display of choice for more extroverted dogs.
Of the overtly aggressive group, I’d like to discuss those dogs who go for the greeter’s face because that’s the image that flashed through my mind when I read the Zoobiquity discussion of capture myopathy. Because dogs normally grab or try to grab the muzzles of animals they perceive as acting in an insubordinate manner, I assumed that the face-grabbing displays exhibited toward these people were strictly rank-related. That is, because these dogs were playing by canine rather than human rules (for behavioral and bond reasons), they perceived this combination of human signals as simultaneously threatening and insubordinate. In such a way, the greeter functioned not only as someone signaling a desire to claim these animals and all that they—the animals—considered their territory, but also as a demented someone wishing to do that.
Why do I say demented? Because no animal actively communicating higher status to another animal by, for example, staring at the other, would simultaneously vocalize and use body language that communicates submission. It makes no sense to do such a thing. It’s crazy. No sane animal would do such a thing. And yet here is this person doing exactly that. What’s a sane dog to do under such circumstances?
So went my thought processes which in no way should be interpreted as my excusing the behavior of dogs who display such aggression or those owners who accept it. I don’t. I had enough reasons for discouraging people from interacting this way with animals long before I read Zoobiquity. And I felt confident enough about the ethological and physiological validity of those reasons that being sometimes harshly criticized for taking this approach didn’t dissuade me. True, being accused of being mean, frigid, unloving and a host of other repellent mental states wasn’t and isn’t a lot of fun. On the other hand, I learned early in my career working with fearful aggressive dogs that if I wanted to trigger an attack, the stare-babble routine was a great way to do it. Because I prefer to set up my patients to succeed rather than fail, this never struck me a very caring thing to do.
But aside from that, the thoughts triggered by reading the Zoobiquity discussion of capture myopathy included considering the possibility that these active displays of aggression might somehow protect animals from the more deadly capture myopathy. Of course, displaying aggression could result in euthanasia of the animal. But if properly done that wouldn’t be nearly as painful.
Sad to say, this is yet another of those areas that didn’t yield any concrete evidence one way or another. But the exercise does cause me to plea yet again for sane, low-keyed animal greeting rituals and teaching kids to greet animals likewise. If experience with our own animals convinces us that such greetings don’t negatively stress them or contribute to other problematic behaviors, then there’s no reason to change it. But with stressed or unfamiliar animals, the most caring and courteous response remains the calming one.
However, what about all those veterinarians, veterinary staff, trainers, dog-walkers, and groomers who display this same behavior? Some of them may lack the behavioral knowledge to realize what they’re doing. In that case, politely asking them not to address your animal in that manner should solve the problem. Others animal care professionals personally don’t like this form of greeting, but they display the behavior because their clients expect it or they think their clients do. In this case, they may use the greeting because they fear those folks will accuse them of not liking animals and take their business elsewhere. These folks will be delighted to greet your animals in a more low-keyed way.
Perhaps the worst of the stare-babble greeters are those who feel compelled to greet animals this way for some reason. In these situations the more negatively the animal reacts, the more determined these folks are to prove their love by putting even more energy into such greetings. This further stresses the animal which causes the person to become even more effusive… I’m sure you can see where this is heading. In these situations, physically removing the animal from the situation provides the best solution.
At the same time, these proposed solutions raises a troubling question. Whether we opt to greet timid or otherwise compromised human infants and toddlers, wild or domestic animals, or family pets in this manner, on whom should the onus to change his or her behavior rest? Should it rest on the recipient of the behavior or on its source?
I recorded a series of podcasts under the general heading The Animal X-Files in which I explored other concepts related to the human-animal bond that Zoobiquity caused me to ponder. In the first of these, The Loss of Wholeness I discuss how veterinary medicine’s choice to pattern itself after human medicine has burdened some clinicians with the tendency to perceive anything different as pathological. Thus relevant to the subject of this commentary, when a timid animal cringes, attempts to withdraw or lashes out out when we do something we consider quite positive, the conditioned response may be to perceive this as the animal’s problem, not ours; the animal should be drugged or trained to endure such interactions.
But when any of us behaves in a manner that causes those we define as lesser and more vulnerable to experience behavioral pain and also possibly physical pain, that troubles me deeply. Maybe my logic is flawed. But if we define ourselves as caring people, shouldn’t we be willing to muster the self-control to change our own behavior to relieve animals of that pain, at least until they gain the wherewithal to tolerate it?