Showing posts with label piloerection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label piloerection. Show all posts

Monday, May 26, 2014

Dog Bite Prevention (though sometimes, you can't)

We've all heard about cases where a dog has bitten a child. Arguably, too many cases. Funny for me to say, perhaps, being a Dog Person™, but obviously, I can explain.

Lots of dog bites you hear about seem, from the outside, to have been completely unavoidable. Small child left alone with dog, child starts crying, dog has attacked the child. No adults there to see what happened. These cases are, in my mind, the fault of the adults. Dogs should not be left alone with tiny children. Tiny children do unreliable, misunderstandable things. Tiny children have little to no intent in their actions. Dogs, in general, have a specific set of reactions to stimuli.

Oh yeah, and last week was Dog Bite Prevention Week.

(drawn by Lil Chin)




Thursday, October 10, 2013

Never Stop Training

Yesterday, Patricia McConnell posted "Gotta Love That Recall" on her blog, and while I read and recommend her as often as I can, I also noticed the specific phrase which I've poached for the title of this post: Never stop training.

I'd been thinking about this lately, in fact, when a certain long nosed miss started nosing up to peoples' plates in a manner she had not otherwise displayed. I may or may not have been mostly unbothered by this, for it was rarely, if ever, my plate she was getting too close to. This is Elka, who I can leave in the car with McDonald's or other takeout and she will not touch is. Elka, who has been in a room with a coffee table full of nachos and dip and even pigs in a blanket and not touched a thing. Elka, who dropped a turkey sandwich she had in her mouth when I said "drop it", and left along a dropped tupperware of taco meat when I said "leave it".


(forgive the old picture, I don't have a new one of her lurking in the "safe range" of food that is not hers)

Monday, September 16, 2013

Command Clinic: That's not your problem.

"That's not your problem" is a cue I developed with Elka, because of course I can't possibly take peoples' advice when they say to keep cues simple. She's smart enough, I feel that simple cues don't always get the point across. Or, they come to mean a broad category, and don't really apply to the next category.

So, while "Leave it" would suffice for most dogs, for Elka, "leave it" refers to items, objects, and wildlife in the yard.

"That's not your problem" applies to other dogs, either in view or barking blocks away. It applies to people walking past on the sidewalk across the street, car doors closing, people coming home next door, etc. The longer phrase seems to assure Elka that yes, I do see the issue, and she can leave it.



Monday, August 26, 2013

Calming Signals, illustrated with Aussies

I talk about "calming signals" with regards to canine body language once in awhile here. I even reviewed Turid Rugaas' book on it.

Well here, on Quality Aussies, is a fabulous page on Calming Signals (though unfortunately, the linked Rugaas web sites at the beginning of the page are no longer up). I really know little about Australian Shepherds, and have never interacted with one, but that doesn't matter in this context. These are things that every dog does, naturally. Instinctually.

Now, does every dog listen to the calming signals of others? Even if they're doing some of their own? No, I can't say that they do. I think dogs are rather like people in that regard (or people are like dogs) in that we can miss the messages that are right in front of our faces, and end up making poor decisions.

I've got a good "yawn and head turn" picture of Elka:


The "sideways approach" illustrated by the Quality Aussies is one that I do frequently with a library patron's dog. She's a little mini Aussie-Border Collie cross (okay, so I've interacted with half an Aussie), and she's demonstrated herself to be rather fearful. So, I sideways approach. I turn my head. I let her come to me. Typically, she'll wiggle over to me, and then turn her back to me and sit. Then she looks at me, grunt-whining, and I scratch her rump and haunches, which makes her get up again and close her eyes with happiness.

Really, I'm jealous of all those great Aussie pictures (though if I'd properly socialized Elka, I'd be able to take pictures of her playing with other dogs. Sigh.) I do have a piloerction one:


But really, situations in which Elka is doing a play bow, or the occasional whale eye, or anything like that, I don't have a camera out. I'm typically interacting with her, or watching her interactions.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Are you smiling at me?

Some Dobermans smile.

This is an unsettling thing to the unprepared owner. If you're not versed in the package of canine body language, such smiles might look like snarls. It is a lifting of the lip and a baring of the teeth. But there is no piloerection, no stiffness of posture; when I've seen it in pictures and video, it's been accompanied by body wiggles and airplane ears.

Of course, there are generally accepted "dog smiles" as well:



Thursday, February 21, 2013

Canine Body Language: Piloerection

There are times Elka becomes aware (or decides that she's aware) that Something Happened outside. Or that Somebody is there. Or maybe the wind blew. Something.

But she'll go look out the door, or a window, growl or grumble, and sometimes give a bark. Invariably, when she decides she's the home's protector (or at least that something requires our attention), she sports a "mohawk", as we call it. Or, as Real Dog People call it, piloerects. Piloerection is when the hair stands on end; on a sleek, short haired dog like Elka, it is really very apparent.


Monday, February 11, 2013

Caution: Area Patrolled by Doberman

So, last Monday, I posted about our new furniture.

In the course of cleaning/organizing/clearing things, we located a sign that our housemate had purchased, but we hadn't hung anywhere just yet. It's so hard to choose where signage should go sometimes.

But, in the interest of display, I put it on top of the light switch in the living room.