I recently had a disagreement with our dog, Yahtzee. Normally she has been a wonderful girl, loving and respectful, but when it comes to ham bones, we do NOT see eye to eye. I do understand that she loves them, and I can accept that, but when she gets a very small chunk off, I don't think she should eat it, and she thinks she should.
This is where the disagreement started. I moved to take that piece away from her and she growled. I got mad, and scared. I have only felt like she finds herself better than me when ham bones are involved, but I need her to understand that she needs to listen to me, so I grabbed her, flipped her over and "showed my dominance" by roughly holding her there as I had been taught.
We continued this battle for a few days, I'd give her the bone, and if she growled when I came by, I took it away and held her down and yelled at her. When the bone was away, and Yahtzee was avoiding me, I pondered.
I was raised to believe that a Higher Power-- "God" in my language-- had created the world to revolve around love. I had struggled to see the love in the natural world for years; trying to figure out how death, hostility, natural disasters, and so much PAIN could be part of God's plan. Somehow, I had come to terms with it, but this disagreement brought back my old concerns.
In every aspect of life, dominance is important. There has to be a leader and a follower, or life is chaos. However, I wished that dominance wasn't gained by violence. When I think about it, it isn't always-- Ruffled Grouse claim dominance in a dance-off. Whomever dances best wins. Lyre-Birds win respect by who has learned the most songs, Woodpeckers who make the loudest sound are the best, and English Sparrows all heed the one with the biggest beard. So why do Dogs assert dominance through violence? I love my dog. I don't want to have to hurt her to have her respect me.
After a while, I'd try to give her the bone, and she wouldn't even take it. She'd bring it to me, drop it, and leave. Obviously my tactics weren't working. The language I was trying so hard to speak wasn't even the language she understood! The ham bone was eventually thrown and life went back to normal. John gave her a rawhide the other day, and she wouldn't touch it if I was around.
I realized that her growling may not have been aggression. When I see any other dog and it growls, I try to reassure it that I'm not a threat, and yet, when my own dog growled, I showed aggression. I have always known that my own feelings are reflected in animals; if I am sad, animals around me put their sad face on and sit with me. When an animal (or even a child) is scared, we are taught to stay calm, because this will help calm our companion. And yet when Yahtzee growled, I let myself get upset, even walked by daring her to growl so I could put her in her place. I misunderstood her; she may have been scared, or she may have been even playing, but my anger and frustration made her confrontational.
I don't know why dogs assert themselves with violence. Maybe they don't, and I just don't understand their language. But even if they do, I am at one with the world again. It hurt me to have to show her aggression, but I know now that I didn't gain any respect by doing it, either, just mistrust. Life still follows the rules I knew it should: love, not violence, conquers all. Next time she growls, I'm going to be more understanding.
