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Jessica Pierce, Ph.D.,
Psychology Today
March 2018
Using the "she's a rescue dog" excuse... Why I'm going to stop. I'm going to stop making excuses for Bella and simply say it like it is: Bella doesn't like to be touched by strangers and there is nothing wrong with this. She's perfect just the way she is and we are lucky to have her as part of our family.
Bella doesn’t like to be touched by humans she doesn’t know and trust.
When I’m out walking with Bella and I encounter other dog-walkers or run
into people I know, Bella will stand or sit quietly behind me or by my side.
She’s a perfect lady. But if a stranger reaches out to try to pet Bella, she
reacts. She’ll pull her ears back and get tense and if they keep moving
forward she’ll bark and even give a cautionary nip at their fingers. To
avoid having people try to pet Bella, I’ve put a bright orange “Caution”
sleeve on her collar, and try to always position myself in between Bella and
other people. Still, many people fail to notice or heed these warnings and
will try to pet her or will (as advised by many dog behavior books) hold out
a hand to let her sniff—a gesture which Bella finds threatening rather than
inviting.
As a result, I often find myself in awkward situations where people’s
friendly attempts to greet Bella have been rebuffed by me or Bella or both.
And for whatever reason, I feel the need to make excuses. The excuse I tend
to use is “she’s a rescue dog,” as if this should explain why she doesn’t
particularly like or trust people and why she is so cranky. I’ll often go on
to tell people that she had a hard first year of life and wasn’t
well-socialized. Most likely she was treated poorly and has good reason to
mistrust. As I’ve become conscious of my own reliance upon the “she’s a
rescue” excuse, I’ve also noticed other dog owners doing the same
thing—explaining away certain behaviors with “he’s a rescue” or “she’s from
the shelter.”
Now that I’ve noticed, I’ve started to question. Why do I use this excuse?
Am I doing Bella and other dogs a disservice?
Why I say it:
1. I believe it is true. Although it is impossible to “prove” that
behavioral issues in shelter dogs are related to their experiences with past
owners or in the shelter system, it is ridiculous to deny that rescue dogs
are often emotionally scarred. And I have no doubt that Bella’s early life
was hard. As with many dogs who are adopted from shelters, we don’t know
much about her life before she wound up at the local Humane Society. All we
know is that she was picked up off the street by animal control, had no
collar or microchip or identification, and that she was skinny and scared
and had an injured back leg. She was around 9 months old. My suspicion is
that she spent her first 9 months confined to a kennel or crate, because she
didn’t know how to play or how to interact with other dogs and is still, at
age seven, trying to get a handle on dog-dog communication. She had never
stuck her paws into a stream or lake and had never played in the snow. The
first time we took her on a hike she didn’t know what to do or even how to
navigate over a rock in the trail. She is fearful of people, especially men,
and flinches if you move quickly around her. Yet underneath her fearful and
prickly exterior, she is sweet and funny and fiercely loyal and, now that
she understands the point, loves playing Frisbee and chasing balls.
2. I want people to feel sympathetic toward Bella and realize that she
isn’t mean, but is a very sweet dog with a feisty exterior. I also want
people to know that Bella’s distrust of people is well-founded. In other
words, I want people to like Bella. (Why should I care? I’m not sure, but I
do.)
3. I use the “she’s a rescue dog” as a kind of apology, to smooth over the
awkwardness and make the other person feel better, after they have been
socially rejected by my dog.
4. I feel a bit embarrassed by Bella’s unfriendliness, and don’t want people
to think her fear of people is my fault or that I am a bad dog owner—that I
failed to socialize or train Bella, or that we beat her over the head with a
newspaper. (Again, why should I care? Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do.)
5. This one is hard to admit, but there is a bit of self-righteous moralism
in pointing out to others that you have rescued a dog rather than purchased
from a pet store or breeder.
Why using the “she’s a rescue” excuse might not be such a good
idea:
1. Using “she’s a rescue” when cautioning people not to pet Bella reinforces
the common assumption that dogs rescued or adopted from shelters have more
behavioral problems than dogs bought from pet stores or breeders. Many
people choose not to adopt a shelter dog because they believe that rescue
dogs are harder work than purebred or bought dogs and that their care should
be left to the dedicated dog lovers who want to spend the time and energy
“fixing” behavioral problems. This assumption is false on many levels and
needs to be continually challenged.
All dogs are hard work and all dogs are behaviorally challenged, in the
sense that they must be trained to curtail many of their innate canine
behaviors, to adapt to human environments. Rescued dogs are no more or less
likely to have behavioral problems than purebred or store-bought dogs.
Behavior is shaped by genetics, early environment and socialization, and by
a whole range of other factors that would be impossible to quantify.
Millions of beautiful, unique dogs are stuck in shelters and they
desperately need homes.
2. My excuse also reinforces the idea being amiable and easy going is
“normal” good-dog behavior and that not wanting to be touched by strangers
is “unfriendly” or undesirable behavior for a dog. Yet each dog is a unique
individual and has his or her own likes and dislikes and sense of personal
space. We don’t criticize people who don’t like to be touched by strangers.
Why should we hold our dogs to a different standard?
3. People need to learn how to behave, too. A good general rule is: never
touch a dog who you don’t know. Yet people routinely ignore this simple
principle. They also ignore Bella’s signals and often also my warnings. So,
it isn’t really Bella who has a problem, but the people who try to touch her
without her consent. Bella is actually very good. She gives clear
communications about what she is feeling and what she wants and doesn’t
want. Her body language says that she does not want to interact. She will
stand or sit quietly by my side if I stop and chat with someone, and is
perfectly happy if they ignore her. Bella isn’t the problem; the people
trying to pet her are the problem.
I'm going to stop making excuses for Bella and simply say it like it is:
Bella doesn't like to be touched by strangers and there is nothing wrong
with this. She's perfect just the way she is and we are lucky to have her as
part of our family.
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