As we stood discussing our plan of action at the place where the sheep tracks in the fresh snow left the logging road and went up a deer path, Poe’s nose hit the ground. He suddenly knew that our mission was not just a romp in the woods. It involved sheep. And he knew where they had headed.

The two elusive sheep have been living in these woods for 3 weeks. The terrain is rough. Hills, cliffs, swamps, old logging trails barely passable on a 4 wheeler. A sugar bush with sap lines criss crossing the woods. Spots of dense hemlock. Corrals and feeding stations have been set up. Many sightings and some almost successful cornering but still the sheep are not home.

But the new owners are persistent. They have learned the animal’s patterns and they know the woods like the back of their hands at this point.

I decided to assist on this quixotic quest knowing that it was unlikely to succeed but also knowing that if we got a clear opportunity that Poe would be the dog who could actually work to bring them home.

So Poe, having found their fresh scent took off down their trail, muttering under his breath at how slow the two leggeds go. I watched as my Border Collie did an imitation of a blood hound. And I thought about how Border Collies are bred not only to be biddable but to be able to work bringing sheep in from the hills on their own. To be able to be successful they have to be part tracker so it shouldn’t surprise me that a dog who is all about sheep should take naturally to this new job he created for himself. In the hills not only do they need to see the sheep but they need to use hearing and scent to detect the ones who are hiding. Because unlike our bucolic notions of sheep grazing on a grassy hillside, sheep left to their own devices know a thing or two about self-protection.

And so we followed him. It was easy to see he was right in the fresh dusting of snow. And when we crossed another path he would, like any self respecting tracking dog, check out the scents and make sure we were on the freshest one. 

The sheep’s owners know the movement patterns of the sheep and they went off the head the sheep at their predicted route. Or one of their routes. The paths are more numerous than even the logging roads they frequent. More than once I found myself humming Loch Lomond. “Oh I’ll take the high road and you’ll take the low road”

Twice in our adventures, we saw the sheep, but at a distance where sending Poe (who most definitely alerted on them) would have more likely sent them deep into the woods or over a cliff. And more than once the sheep doubled back on us. The sheep knew we were there. The dog knew where the sheep were. Clearly a game of cat and mouse and the humans were the almost clueless ones.

It is hard to explain how difficult this terrain is. The hills and rock ledges, the fallen trees all make for a million places to hide and honestly it would be impossible to see the sheep if the leaves were on the trees. 

Poe never quit his self-appointed tracking job. At one point he hopped off the logging road into the woods. ATV tracks had made it hard for us to see the sheep tracks. We called him back and kept up the hill another couple hundred feet only to find that Poe had been right and we were wrong.

As dusk began to arrive the sheep were headed toward a feeding corral and we had a brief moment of thinking that maybe we would catch them, if we got to the mouth soon enough. Two roads, a high one and a low one [Cue: Audio of Loch Lomond] lead to the corral. They had taken the low one.

We took the low road. Suddenly Poe alerted, looking up the hill. He had that look he has when he sees sheep and is ready for the out run. He stopped. He sat. He waited. He was trying to tell us something. I asked him if he saw the sheep and gazed into the cliff-like hill. I did not see anything though I suspected he was right. So we continued following the sheep tracks hoping they had entered the corral for a snack. But alas at the conjunction of the low road and the high road the sheep had done a 180, sensing a trap,  and had headed back to their spot on the mountain. They must have chuckled as they passed us on that high road and looked down on us and the dog. Poe had known all along.

The sheep know the terrain. They basically lived wild in a pasture for the last few years. So they are used to taking care of themselves and see little use for humans, don’t understand what grain is (shake it in a bucket and they run away). They have developed habits, which as the new owners discern them will help with an eventual capture, but their habits are smart. Poe’s actions yesterday helped them see the pattern that the sheep always take the high road to double back when they feel pressure from the hunt. Sheep gravitate to high spots where they have the visual and physical advantage (face it, humans do too – we build our fortresses high). They can see the predators better than the predators can see them and predators have to overcome the extra effort to go up hill.

As we were chatting last night about lessons learned and the additional information gathered, I made some comment about how people think sheep are dumb and it is so clear that these sheep are not. They are exquisitely tuned into their environment and have learned had to navigate it and use it to their advantage. The owner made a remark about how easy it is to fool her goat.

And it hit me. We think animals are stupid. But we also make animals stupid either by breeding in stupidity or never letting them develop their intellectual capacities. 

The goat has lived inside a fence all his life. He has people feed him and water him and clean up his poop. People aren’t really his predators and so he can be easily fooled.

By contrast, these sheep are smart.  As prey animals they are attuned to what makes them safe. We don’t think they are being smart because we can offer them a safe secure barn, unlimited food and an almost guarantee that predators won’t get them. But they recognize us for what we are – predators. They have probably been having private chats with the deer. Though maybe they understand humans better than deer because they have had more contact.

And Poe. I never thought much about tracking with a Border Collie. I know that search and rescue use them often. So it is no surprise.  Certainly it would be a fundamental characteristic that would be required to bring sheep out of the hills of Scotland and the Lake District. His intellect frequently amazes me. He is highly motivated to learn everything he possibly can in order to do what he loves – work sheep. If it takes tracking the sheep on his own (which he probably has done way more than I am aware of in the past) then he is going to do it. He has the nose and the ears for it.

I thought about my sheep. They aren’t accustomed to navigating the wilds of Northern Vermont. They would be drawn towards the people and would be quickly recaptured. We would think they were “smart” because of that. Because humans have such a narrow view of what is smart and safe…

So I spent a day in the woods traipsing after two wiley sheep. I really didn’t expect for us to have a moment when Poe could shine as a sheep dog. It seemed a very, very long shot.  And we weren’t successful. I am not sure why I volunteered except I needed a change of scenery. I rarely regret such adventures because they make my brain think even if the outward signs were of failure.

It gave me much to contemplate. I think about pet dogs and how barren their lives are. They don’t grow up with infinite learning possibilities or often opportunities to employ and develop their natural talents. Like the goat, they seem easily fooled to us. We think of them as dumb by our standards but we don’t allow them the opportunity to learn and grow and show us how smart they can be. Or we teach them things that we think are important or amuse us.  It applies to humans as well I suspect. Everytime I see a working dog in its element (or in this case wild sheep in theirs), I am given pause at how extraordinarily well tuned they are to their world.

Sheep dog training and trialing is an exercise in humility. Our dogs can exceed our expectations if we let them – and often we don’t fully appreciate their knowledge because it is of a different sort than ours. We often call it instinct. But it is instinct and experience. That creates knowledge. Over the years, I can not tell you how many times I have muttered under my breath (or had a teacher mumble in my ear) “the dog was right” when I made a hash of something.

Yesterday when Poe put his nose to that trail, the words of more than one experienced handler rang in my ears “Trust your dog” and so I did. And he was right. Our slogging two leggedness was a hindrance to success.

And in that moment when the sheep were laughing from up on their hill and Poe was telling me they were up there, I only thought “he’s right”, but *I* don’t have enough information about the terrain up there or enough visual information to send him on a blind gather.

I chose not to take a risk – with my dog or the sheep who could panic near the edge of a very sharp drop. It was the right choice.

But if I knew what Poe knew I might have done things differently.

Rose 2007- October 20, 2019

 

If Rose were here she would be touching me with as much of her body as she could and sucking away the grief. Where she put people’s pain and grief and fear I am not sure, but I think she made it spontaneously combust, because every place she went felt lighter with her presence. She always found joy.

 

Grief makes you cold. And I am cold today.

 

A few weeks ago, we were in the Physical Therapy room at Cheshire Medical where Rose did her weekly therapy visits. One of Rose’s staff friends was working with a patient who declared that she didn’t like dogs. Rose went to say a quick hello to the staff person and suddenly the woman was petting Rose, all the while telling me that she didn’t like dogs, well maybe little dogs were okay, but that she didn’t like pets. This, as she caressed Rose’s soft ears and looked into her eyes. Rose caught even the staunchest dog dislikers off guard. It took great effort for people to convince themselves of their dislike in her presence. It was hard to not like Rose.

Rose was a master puppy teacher. Even the shyest or concerned puppy would come around. If the puppy was worried or wasn’t sure how to play, Rose would ignore it and let it takes it time to approach her. 15 minutes later, she would be gently play bowing and the pup would be totally engaged, as if the pup had never had a concern. If she encountered a rambunctious pup she was equally as engaged and played with wild abandon. She matched herself to the dog. It was hard not to like Rose. 

 

Even with dogs that were rude she didn’t hold a grudge but made it clear she wouldn’t tolerate it. 🙂

 

When Rose walked down the hall at the hospital, people would smile at her.

 That was her cue to smile back. She was pretty, joyful, social, soft, well behaved, wise in the ways of human emotions. She had an open spirit that drew people to her. Generous with her spirit and attention but not clingy or demanding it was easy to like her, even for those who had worries or concerns. It was not hard to like Rose.

In fact, it was easy to be loved by and love Rose. She made it simple. She was drawn to humans and so very accepting of them in whatever state they came. She loved dogs, tried to make friends with cats, thought that sheep should be allowed to do what they pleased. Her only hatred was Corvids. Squawky, annoying  blue jays, crows, ravens triggered a stream of what I imagine were loud barking invectives.

 

Ten years ago July, Rose came into our lives. She came from Glen Highland, a Border Collie rescue in NY. She had been a stray, about 1.5 years old,  who was adopted from an animal control facility by a woman who thought she would be a good agility prospect. Six weeks later she arrived at Glen Highland. She was “too much” for her. Rose was cheerful, smart, social and relatively unscathed by whatever her history was. To boot, she seemed interested in herding and had been evaluated and seemed to have potential. At the rescue she had been named Rosie. Since I had considered Rose as a name for my next dog, it seemed like it was meant t.o be.

So, Rose came home. We got sheep. We tried to train. She was so sweet and friendly but I couldn’t get a lie down on her to save my, her or the sheep’s life. Not that the sheep were in danger. She was very kind to her sheep. She was interested but not really interested in controlling them. And she spent all 10 of her years with us thinking that a recall was entirely optional. 

She didn’t mind sheep but she HATED agility. The first time I put her near equipment she flattened herself on the dog walk. Something clearly had happened before I got her. We have had a tunnel in our backyard for all of her 10 years with us. All of the other dogs happily go through the tunnel for treats. Never once did she go through. I decided that I wasn’t going to push that idea on her. 

Frustrated with this lovely creature who really didn’t think working for someone else was in her DNA, I went to a behaviorist who pointed out the obvious – that she was a perfectly wonderful dog who was mismatched to her job. But I was unsure what that job might be. And I was extremely disappointed that I owned sheep without a sheep dog.

What was becoming clear was that Rose had other ideas for her career. She loved visiting Al’s job and schmoozing people. She was a cocktail party girl – flitting from person to person and enjoying every moment.  But sometimes she would find the person in the room most in pain and sidle up to them. More than once she caused people to burst into tears as she touched their grief.  

She was by my side through some difficult times. But we never really owned her. She was a dog of the people and while she turned to me for some things, her energy has always been directed to others. There is a picture of Rose next to the definition of extrovert in the dictionary.

After we moved to Spofford, we took a class for therapy dogs. At about 6 years old she had settled enough that she was a calm and engaged therapy dog. I had learned to listen to her better. And when we did one of our observations to become a therapy dog team at the hospital she practically spoke the words “This is where I want to work.”

And so my role with her became chauffeur, elevator operator and the person at the other end of the leash that was required by company policy. Occasionally I also acted as her rescuer when she found a situation uncomfortable. I am pretty introverted by nature and hospitals are not my favorite place. If you had told me that I would ever be a part of a therapy dog team, that I would willingly walk around a hospital an hour a week chatting with sick, grief stricken people, I would have thought you were delusional. But Rose’s will was stronger and the clarity of her intentions brighter than my misgivings.

Her certainty about her role has allowed me to witness, almost as a fly on the wall, things about people I would never have seen without her. Her openness to them and their pain, her lack of judgement in the face of their many and various disabilities and disadvantages has made me more compassionate. And the way she pried open hearts, motivated people to try harder, gave staff people the hug they needed to carry on when things got hard was a gift.

At home, she was a benevolent leader. Except for Magic who she liked to harass, she led the way to being friendlier and more confident than they otherwise might have been. Quinn and Jura both drew strength and confidence around people by her example.When Breton arrived I am pretty sure that Rose was thinking “oohh they got me a puppy!!!! Whee!!! My very own puppy” Breton was guardy and a little defensive. Rose showed by example that you can be a strong independent woman and speak with a quiet authority. There is no need to growl unless the first suggestion is not taken.

 

Poe arrived and was a bit on guard. He had lived with some bitchy bitches in his time. From day one he recognized in Rose a fun-loving benevolent leader. Recently they had been having daily face fights while I ate my breakfast.

Rose was beginning to get more achy from arthritis. And I had begun warning people at the hospital that she probably wouldn’t be therapy dogging much longer. Though she perked up the instant I grabbed her bag of therapy dog things, she was tired at the end of her shift. I had begun to plan a retirement party for her in my head. She had so many friends at the hospital. “The best thing about Mondays is Rose.” was an oft heard refrain.

On Friday morning Rose and Poe had their daily face fight. Friday evening guests arrived. And Rose was a little less pushy about greeting them than usual, leaving it to the other dogs to mush on the guests. I thought she was just achy from the spondylosis she had been developing. Saturday she was still a bit subdued but still friendly and cheerful.

Sunday morning it was clear that something was seriously wrong. And when a look at her gums indicated severe anemia we flew to the emergency vet. I have been down this road before. Dakota the livestock guardian dog was fine one day and the next day a growth on his heart burst and I had to put him down.

Yes, hemangio sarcoma. She had bled out from a mass on her spleen so much that surgery that might prolong her life at best by 6 months was extremely risky. And those 6 months, if we bought them, would have been filled with anxiety and risk. And so Al and I said our good-byes.

The hole in the house is enormous. The other dogs sensed something wrong on Saturday. Of that I am sure. They were subdued all day yesterday. And it is hard not to count to 4 when checking to make sure everyone is present.

Unlike many dogs who bring great pleasure to their family and a few other people, Rose was truly a dog of the people. So many people have told me how she touched their lives. She was a bright light in dark times for so many. She knew it too. She understood her job. And she loved it. 

She is going to live on in so many ways. There are puppies who are better dogs for their play time with her. Jura and Breton and Poe are better dogs for her presence. Many people have told me the difference she made and there are many, if not more, people who haven’t. She was an ambassador for dogs. She was an ambassador for Border Collies. I was able to explain that a true working dog is calm and sensitive to the species around them. When Rose was working, she was the epitome of calm and focused on her job.

If on my deathbed I have to choose one of my dogs as my “heart” dog, it will probably be Rose. She was never really mine but I admired her gifts and am glad I was able to facilitate her sharing them so freely in her dream job. All of my dogs have taught me that dogs are far more than we give them credit for. Rose actually taught many others that lesson as well.

This very moment as I write this,  Rose and I should be wandering the halls of the hospital bringing smiles to faces and enjoying her day. She knew how to make people love her. And she basked in the love with a glow.

Rose leaned into pain and could suck grief away. She isn’t here to do that for me today.  I know many people who will grieve with me. She would have us all celebrate life. She would offer a smile, a play bow, a hug. She would look deep into our eyes with her steady gaze and tell us it is all bearable. I love that she will live on in so many lives.

And anyway, I never wanted to be a therapy dog handler. Rose made me do it.

 

If there is a tribute to be paid to Rose, I encourage people who loved her or were touched by her to leave a comment here on the page – anonymous or not. None who were touched by her will be surprised that she touched others. I will moderate the comments (because internet spam)  so they will be slow to show up but they will be here eventually.

 

 

In August we added a temporary household member. Jura was laid up and unable to work for me. And Breton the pup is far from ready to be “the” farm dog. So enter Kena, loaner dog extraordinaire. Kena comes from a friend who has 10 dogs. She is 7, well trained as a sheep dog and a love bug with people. She jumped right into her temp job as chief farm dog with enthusiasm and partnered quickly with me. But… and it is a big but, she came with a reputation of being sometimes difficult with other dogs.

In our house, the Border Collies are house dogs for the most part. While they have crates and their own room, they spend a fair amount of time just hanging out in the house with the humans. It is a holdover from having purely pet dogs I guess, but it suits us well even if muddy messy working dogs destroy vacuum cleaners on a regular basis.

We have had multiple dogs since 2003. An interesting culture has developed – not just because we “trained” the dogs to do things but because the dogs themselves maintain a certain aura and order about the house. One of the indicators of the “culture” that has developed is that our dogs stand in line for the water dish. Seriously, they queue up like a bunch of Brits. No mobbing, no pushing another dog away. Occasionally they will share but in general, there is a line. I did not teach this – just one day I realized they did this out of habit.

They learn to wait patiently for treats. Aggression and “me first” is not rewarded – by humans or other dogs. When a friend’s dog jumped on her impatiently while treats were being handed out, Alex our dearly departed English Shepherd order nerd, jumped up and with a shove said “You sit and wait your turn here young lady!” Soon this dog, who visits frequently, stood in line for water just like all the other dogs.

One of the rules in our house has always been “possession is 10/10ths of the law (unless the humans want the object)”. Despite having a few minor resource guarders over the years, there were always plenty of toys on the floor so that at any given time if one dog has something that another wanted, they could go find an alternate toy. If another dog had a kong or was working on some delicious thing, they give each other a wide berth.  No one approaches another’s dog dish until they leave it. But once they leave, it is fair game to see if there are any molecules of food left.

And other conflicts like “you are playing too rough” or “you are in my face leave me alone” have generally been resolved by turning one’s back, walking away. In one notable instance, Rose sat on a puppy who was biting her ankles until the puppy calmed down. That’s a  pretty ingenious time-out if you ask me. She resumed play as soon as the pup was calm. One of the reasons this culture has endured over generations is that the dogs “respect” what another dog says.  Breton has a really great “stink-eye” expression that makes you laugh out loud. But they step away from conflict rather than into it.

Of course, as overlords, we have encouraged this peaceable society and provided an environment where it could flourish. But I am not sure we created it and we certainly don’t micromanage it. The dogs themselves internalized these rules. That means that much of the “management” of conflict happens without a human intervention. 

With each subsequent dog, they seem to adapt to the culture. The current dogs, Rose, Breton and Jura have a lovely set of relationships. They play with one another. Jura and Breton play tug with toys. Breton and Rose face fight and wrestle. Jura and Rose are pals.

Enter Kena. She came while Breton was off at “sheep camp”. Kena was wary, guards her resources and snarks at other dogs. Like a classic border collie bitch she likes to control the movement of other dogs. The first day here she growled at any dog that approached within 10 or 15 feet of her space if she had anything.  We humans often attribute such assertive/aggressive behavior to being “queen” but I tend to think the opposite. My guess is that it comes from a place of insecurity. Rose just looked at her with a quizzical look and walked away. For days, Jura, who missed playing tug with Breton, would try to invite her to play tug and she would just give him a growl. Honestly, he looked baffled. But neither dog met her behavior with similar behavior. A growl from Kena and they would walk away. A snark and she became invisible to them.

There were times when I swear Rose walked by her going “lalala, I don’t see you”. Punishing Kena for feeling threatened might suppress the behavior of the growl but it wouldn’t take away the feeling so I generally did not intervene. I frequently thought of the bit I had heard on NPR about non-complementary behavior. When a robber tried to demand money from a dinner gathering, one of the diners invited him for a glass of wine.  Instead of robbing them, he sits down and talks. (https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2016/07/15/485843453/it-was-a-mellow-summer-dinner-party-then-the-gunman-appeared) It was a most effective way of “disarming” the robber.

It seemed my dogs were applying this method to Kena. There were times it seemed like she was expecting hostile reaction and would be shocked when nothing happened. What do you do when you are all set for a fight and the other person just walks away? Over the course of the next month, Kena let her guard down. When she had a bone or a toy, Rose and Jura could walk right by her. She became more comfortable sharing petting with another dog. She didn’t try to take another dog’s toy but would go find one for herself. I still feed her in her crate alone because she otherwise she would try to swallow an entire bowl of chow in two seconds. Fundamentally she is still insecure about her resources. But when there was no threat, her defensiveness slowly but surely was melting away.

She came into heat shortly before Breton returned. Some dogs are irritable when they are in heat. Fortunately Kena seemed to be a lovebug. Nonetheless, bringing Breton into the picture when emotions are running high didn’t seem ideal. Kena didn’t like the turn of events.

And I wasn’t sure if Breton would respond to the hostility with hostility or if she would practice the non-complementary behavior that Rose and Jura had. Breton responded by ignoring her, walking away and giving her the occasional stink eye.No confrontation. No snark. Just a look of disbelief. Within a few days, Kena started to accept that Breton wasn’t a threat and wasn’t going to take the bait.

 

Kena still doesn’t quite get why you stand in line for the water dish. But the other dogs let her go first. They live in a world of plenty so there is no reason to argue over it.

 She still sits back a little when all the dogs are getting treats. But that seems to be her way of regulating her own discomfort. She can share petting with another dog, though you can see she isn’t always completely comfortable sharing. She can let Rose and Breton play fight without getting involved (or with just a little encouragement of “stay out of it Kena”).

 

About a week ago, Kena and I were moving sheep. When we move sheep I put the Maremmas away in the barn. We were near the barn when loud growling and a fight between the Maremmas broke out. We couldn’t see what happened but the growling undid Kena. Kena hit the ground in terror. She was visibly upset and she ran to me. I put her back in the house. For the next couple of days, she resorted to her guardy, growly, snarky behavior with the other Border Collies. You don’t undo practiced behavior that is triggered by certain events with just a month or two of a different culture. But it took only a few days for the house “culture” to win her back. As her cortisol levels dropped, her defensiveness melted. The other dogs did not respond in kind to her behavior. And so, she was able to relax.

It is so easy to respond to hostility with hostility, to anger or resource guarding with the same, especially when you are feeling insecure. It is so easy to introduce a dog, or a human for that matter, that has issues with others to a setting and have the hostility and snarking become the norm. It is so easy to respond in kind. In human groups, as well as dogs, one “difficult” being can send the rest cascading into unkind behavior.

So, I can’t help but wonder why the culture of kindness and equanimity won out for the most part when it is clear from everything we observe in the world that it is so easy to disrupt it.. In some sense, I think Rose, Jura and Breton are secure in their “culture”. They have no reason to believe that hostility will gain them much. They “listen” to each other and respect each other’s space. These behaviors are well practiced and an ingrained part of how they respond to their world. That became clear to me when Breton came home. She’s never had the opportunity to practice much hostility toward other dogs. That isn’t to say she hasn’t growled or lifted her lip – but it isn’t her motus operandi.

But it is also important to remember that old habits and reactions die hard. When Kena heard the Maremmas fighting, she resorted quickly to her defensive behavior. I can’t say I blame her. Aggression, even when we are not participants, can put us on edge and disrupt our world.

Kena, while insecure and with habits of long standing, has clearly taken time to “listen” to her environment. At every turn, we have supported her relaxing into the existing culture. And when she can’t handle something (Jura and Breton playing tug) I have found ways for her to remove herself so that the other dogs can maintain their relationships without interference. As I type, she is sitting at my feet while Breton and Rose face fight in the living room. A month ago she could not have done that.

As overlords of the house, we have ensured that there is plenty. We support the non-violent resolution of conflict and discourage the violent. We treat everyone with fairness. We have never supported the notion that one dog gets priority to resources. Everyone has equal access to resources – and if they need extra help in one area we provide that assistance.  Kena and Jura need more calories – so they get more calories. Kena needs more assurance when a conflict does arise. She can’t have soft toys lying around the house. So she goes into her crate with a cow hoof so that the other dogs can play with them. 

I identify with Kena. I sometimes find myself sitting a bit off to the side – even when everyone is happy. I don’t quite trust the calm and assume that there will be tension. I have worked in some pretty dysfunctional workplaces that overwhelmed my general tendencies to be kind and fair. And those places wore away at my optimism. Sometimes I self-crate (heck, I live on a farm 600 feet from any neighbor…)  to avoid conflict. Generally I walk away rather than confront. I confronted a lot when I was a community organizer. It took a toll on my soul. And when humans start fighting and growling I want to hit the ground just like Kena. It can make me grouchy and defensive for days.

So it isn’t surprising that I find myself dismayed at the turn of events and the shift to so much anger in our culture. But watching the dogs and how they have managed integrating Kena into the household reminds me that kindness and fairness can win if we give it a chance and actively support it.

In the US we don’t have a society that actively promotes peaceful coexistence. Our overlords, whether economic or political, are hoarding the turkey while many of us fight over table scraps. They hope we won’t notice that many of us aren’t even at the table. Our society unevenly distributes the resources based on arbitrary characteristics and reinforces the notion that some of us are deserving or undeserving. They play into our natural self-protective tendencies to turn us into resource guarders and advocates of aggression. “You get three treats. You get one.” Or worse we are told  “That other dog gets more treats than you” ,even when it is a lie. And we are turning on each other, in ways that are just plain stupid and counter-productive.

Sure there are times when it is appropriate to meet aggression with aggression. Afterall, I have Maremmas to keep my sheep safe. And I expect them to tell coyotes to go to hell. But aggression can’t be our “go to” behavior if we want to live together. Escalating the aggression – meeting aggression with aggression most often just leads to more aggression. It only rarely leads to more kindness, fairness and peacefulness.

Kena’s “acculturation” by the other dogs, is a good reminder for me. When I listen to our leaders, I realize that they don’t actually value security, kindness, fairness or peace. It isn’t just that they don’t see the same path to a better future and a good society. It is that they have fallen into a belief system where aggression must be met with aggression, resources are scarce (even when they aren’t), that there are deserving and undeserving people based on arbitrary characteristics and where punishment, fomenting conflict and using people’s insecurities is the way to control behavior. It isn’t clear to me whether current leaders value “the greater good” at all.

Many societies over the centuries have shown us that as least for a while things can be otherwise. The challenge in building such societies is that behaviors that are required do go against some of our nature. Resource guarding makes sense in a world where we perceive few resources or when there is disparate access to those resources. Aggression makes sense when “live and let live” means your resources are taken from you. Fairness, peace, kindness and security require an active social contract and looking beyond one’s own self interest.  And practice. Lots and lots of practice.  And dare I say it also requires forgiveness of a sort. Rose and Breton and Jura have each had their moments when I suspect they have thought, in whatever way dogs think, “How rude, Kena, how rude” But they have not responded in kind. They have proved that her insecurity about her resources is unfounded. So far, at least here in this tiny little world, their way is winning. And Kena is beginning to practice new behaviors that fit in with the “culture.” The peaceful option isn’t her first nature yet, but on occasion now it is her first choice.

I don’t pretend that the world is so simple as my four dog household.  But I do know that promoting inequality, punishment, insecurity, conflict and aggression won’t help us get to a better place. I also know that punishing and silencing Kena’s growling and snarking wouldn’t have changed her feelings – only suppressed them. Somehow we need to both listen to the growl and lessen the need for the growl.

Fixing this mess is multifaceted, complex, requires all of us to change behaviors. But the longer we allow those ways of thinking to rule, the harder it will be to change both society and ourselves.