Thou callest me a dog before thou hast cause. But since I am a dog, beware my fangs. William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
In the merry Old England of the Bard's day citizens had to "beware" of a dog's fangs. Even so today. According to the American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA) data (of 2007) there were more than 72 million dogs in the USA. See: (
http://www.avma.org/reference/marketstats/ownership.asp.) For some reason dog bites appear to have risen faster than the dog population. For example, dog ownership rose only 2% over the period 1986-1994 while the rate of reported dog bites rose 36% over the same period.
That trend seems to have continued into the present time. Though most dog bites take place on the dog-owner’s property and most victims are either friends or family of the owner…the rising level of dog ownership and increasing incidence of dog attacks may generate an appropriate wariness of some-- as they walk or jog in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
This author is a known dog lover and owner from a very young age. I have slept with, run-away from home with, walked with, hunted with, trained, duck-hunted with, sailed and fished with, retrieved with and just enjoyed the company over the decades of: Queenie, Smarty, Mollie and Martha, Snuffy, Whitey, Blackie, Kim, Geant, Tim, Masset, Missey, Jeeves, Scrubby, Smurf and most recently-- Milo, a Jack Russel Terrier. I have owned mixed breeds, beagles, a wire-haired terrier, shepherds, pointers, setters, various terriers, a mastiff, and even one one lap dog. I loved them all and learned something about dog behavior from each one of them. I have never owned an aggressive dog, but have encountered them in my travels, during field work, while hunting, walking, or while jogging.
Over the years, I developed a set of general “rules of encounter” which may help reduce a walker or a jogger’s exposure to dog bite and help relieve simple "dog related anxiety" when, as is increasingly possible, one encounters an aggressive dog on one's route.
1.
Know your breeds. Remember that dogs have been bred for thousands of years for one purpose or another, so (counter to American ideals and notions of equality) dog-breeding does count! All breeds can bite, and any breed can be trained purposely (or inadvertently) to be aggressive. But recognizing dog breeds and knowing their general psychological characteristics can help avoid an unpleasant encounter. Earlier on this very day, I encountered a lady walking a giant Newfoundland female..she was more a puppy than a full-grown bitch. But she couldn't pass a stranger without wagging her great flag of a tail or offering her great head to you for a petting. She was a dog lover's heaven. Newfoundlands or "Newfies" are big and lovable. They would almost never be expected to act aggressively--or bite. That is the case with most working dog breeds. Aggression would not be a character appropriate for a working dog which must come in contact with many different people, and work alongside other dogs. Aggressive traits were bred-out of these breeds early in their history of development. Owners would simply not breed a dog or bitch which showed these traits. As a consequence work dogs (as noted above) such as Newfoundlands, collies, border collies, sheep dogs, Eskimo dogs, sled dogs and similar breeds are for this reason least likely to be aggressive. For the same reason, most hunting breeds are generally non-aggressive. Beagles, retrievers, pointers, spaniels, setters, hounds, poodles and other similar dogs are generally friendly and not likely to bite.
On the other hand, guard dogs, such as the German Shepherd, Doberman, Rottweiler, Bull Mastiff and American Bulldog and dogs bred for the fight ring, particularly the Pit Bull are predisposed to attack, may have been trained as a guard or attack dogs, or are easily provoked into an attack. If I can, I generally avoid unnecessary contact with these breeds. Observing one of these breeds ahead of me on my walking route, may cause me to cross the street or simply go another way.
2.
A Bad Dog Ahead! But some situations arise unforeseen. When you turn a corner and there is a large unleashed dog ahead. Perhaps it begins to act aggressively by approaching you in a threatening way, perhaps it barks and bares its fangs---the first and simplest response may be what I call the “Ellen Nelson Bend”. Ellen was an elderly lady who lived across our Brooklyn, New York alleyway during most of my childhood. She was an avid dog lover who walked her little Pomeranian named “Mitsey”, every morning and evening on our busy, Brooklyn streets. She often encountered dogs larger and more aggressive than her Mitsey. In those days, a few doors away, lived “Fido”, a big noisy shepherd whose owner often carelessly let him out loose onto the street. He pestered neighbors up and down our street.
"Mrs. Nelson," I asked one day chilly fall day as she strolled up our alleyway, with Mitsey in tow, "Did you pass by Mrs. Franza's house?"
"Yes I did," came her reply. As I approached Mitsey seeing me, lolled her tongue and wagged her tail.
"What about her big Shepherd, Fido, he was loose again, I saw him. He scares me every time I pass by."
She stopped and wound up Mitsey's worn leather lead around her fine-leather gloved hand. “Honey, all you have to do is bend over and pretend to pick up a stick or stone. 'Course there isn't anything there on the ground. But they don't know that. Most dogs, they see me reach down that way-- and they just scat.”
She pulled Mitsey along toward her back door, then turned back to me and smiled. "You remember that little trick...honey! Jest you reach for a stone."
I tried it. It was true! Even though there was not a pebble or a stick on the sidewalk, all I had to do was bend over and reach down--and it was always a sure-fire way to get a dog to back down and slink away. I tried it on big old Fido. He backed away every time. I figure there must be some hard-wired reflex in a dog's brain. Perhaps, it derives from its prehistoric encounters with humans. Every ancient canid that saw a human bend down and reach for the ground expected to get pelted with a big rock. Those who raced away escaped to live and breed again, while those who stood there dumbly or came too close were perhaps less likely to survive. That gene must have gotten passed down with time into all our dog breeds.
Of course if you can pick up a nice big throwing pebble, a chunk of concrete or a hefty hunk of wood and skip it down their way...that makes the "Ellen Bend" even that much more effective. But remember, just the act of bending down will do the trick.
3.
You Bite Dog (or You Attack Them)! Finally , when you (this is for healthy vigorous adults only) have no other option, as you face an aggressive dog, you may try to turn the tables and change into an aggressor yourself. Remember that most adult humans are quite a bit bigger than the average dog. Dogs are really, more afraid of us than most of us realize. I recall an incident some years ago which illustrates this principle.
At the time, I was jogging regularly through a suburban neighborhood early each morning. My route took me through a development and into a cul-de-sac. Usually I used this court as the halfway point on my route, slowly jogging around the cul-de-sac then turning homeward from there. As I ran into the court this particular morning (I recall it was a holiday weekend), I saw five dogs of several breeds milling around over a tipped-over garbage pail in the driveway near the front of the first house on the court. Apparently, their respective owners had, carelessly let their pets out onto the street to relieve themselves, permitting said pet-owners the luxury of a longer holiday sleep in. As I approached, I evaluated the dog-situation and concluded that since these canids were occupied with the tipped over pail, (their angry barks and yips echoed hollowly out of the garbage container as they fought over choice holiday repast waste morsels) and I had not been bothered by them in the past, it was probably safe to continue on to the end of the court were I normally turned around and began my route back. So ignoring the dog pack, I continued on to the end where I made my turn turned into the last lap of my route.
As I approached the exit, one of the larger dogs, a mix breed, heard my approaching footsteps. He pulled his head out of the tipped over black-plastic container and looked up to see me jogging slowly and steadily toward him. Perhaps he was being protective of the empty tin of sardines he gripped firmly in his teeth. But for whatever reason, as I approached, he dropped the oily tin and growled threateningly. His action raised the alarm with the others, who now pulled themselves out of the pail and away from their feed and looked my way. At this point the dogs seemed to alter from a group of friendly house pets into a dangerous pack of predators. The other dogs looked toward the mixed breed as if to see what he did. He laid his ears back and held his tail straight and low. A line of fur rose up along his spine. He lowered his head and moved toward me as he growled. The angry sound seemed to enrage the others and as they looked toward each other their behavior became more aggressive and their barking louder and more aggressive.
At that point, I was about one hundred feet away from them, with no other good option but to continue past the five dogs to get out of the court. The other dogs, a beagle, a shepherd mix, and a collie among them all turned their attention to me. The Beagle bayed loudly, shaking his head and flopping his long ears. They turned their attention to me--I was the unexpected intruder into "their court"and perhaps they felt they were guarding their garbage hoard--as they began their concerted move in my direction. All I could think of was, that I should not turn and run, even if I did and was fast enough, there were few good places to go, and they would surely catch up with me before long, perhaps on some front porch or in a back yard. Where one or more of them would have more reason to attack an intruder than out here in the open court. So I had no other option.
I unzipped my windbreaker and holding it open with my hands to make myself appear bigger and wider, I lowered my head, flapped my arms like a giant bird and raced toward the dogs screaming and yelling wildly. The pack slowed their advance toward me. They stopped barking. But, I did not relent. Now jumping and howling, like a banshee, I raced directly toward them, pumping my knees up and down and racing up onto the nearest sloping manicured lawn. I had some pleasure thinking that my bizarre vocalizations were loud enough to wake up the sleeping dog-owners in the near-by homes. By the time I was fifty feet away, the dogs had stopped dead in their tracks and appeared as puzzled as dogs could look. When I flapped my arms and jumped up and down again, they lost their nerve, and splitting up, they scattered, this way and that, retreating in haste. The big mix breed that seemed to be acting like the alpha male of the pack paused once when he was a safe distance away to take a quick glance over his shoulder before he disappeared into some thick foliage.
I quickly made the entrance road and was soon on the main road and on my way home. I don't recommend this for method for everyone. But as a last resort it is worth a try.
Get the picture?
rjk
On a cold and windy December the 15th, 2010, I received an excited telephone call from Mrs. K. Nash, a fellow wild-life observer who informed me that a hawk had killed a big gull in the Walmart Shopping Plaza in Setauket, New York. Mrs. Nash described the bird to me as "some kind of hawk" and "smaller than the gull". A short time later, she e-mailed me a photograph taken with her iPhone. The photograph revealed the bird to be a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis). The photograph at left (by Mrs K Nash) depicts the bird sitting on the carcass of a Ring Billed Gull in the Walmart Shopping Center. Mrs Nash added that as she approached the hawk, it seemed unafraid, but annoyed at the intrusion and dragged its big prey further away along the asphalt surface. Undeterred, she retreated to her automobile, and drove it to a point where she was able to get close enough to make a fine photograph.