10 Things I Learned About Dogs in 2021

Dogs have been around us for what seems like forever. We have grown and developed with them by our sides. In these modern times, we live with them as pets; they work with us; we rely on them. We even call them family! And because of this proximity, we often think that we know everything about them. When I take a moment to stop and think back over 2021, it fascinates me to realise how much I have learned about dogs over this last year. It’s a humbling revelation: you think you know all there is to know about dogs, only to have a new insight gob smack me. Some new understanding came through the eyes of experts, whereas other pieces of knowledge were natural revelations. Here are 10 things I have learned:

1- Puppies can be worth more than gold

This year, suddenly puppies were at a premium. Shelters couldn’t keep up with the demand for puppies, and people were adopting adult dogs instead. Which is a good thing. They wanted canine companionship during the pandemic. Some people had never wanted a dog before, citing lack of time, commitment to work and travel, and the general business of their lives as reasons. But with Covid-19 confinement those excuses flew out the window. Now they were at home, and many were all alone. So, they started looking around for puppies. Mini and teacup-sized Poodles, French Bulldogs, Jack Russell Terriers… breeders of small-sized dogs such as these were doubling their prices. But at least you know what you’re getting from a reliable breeder. Many people took the time and patience to do their research. However, many others were buying Border Collies or other in-demand breeds for next to nothing from nefarious breeders announcing on local buy and sell platforms. I think of 2021 and I imagine flying puppies, taking off as soon as they can leave their mother. Now that COVID-19 restrictions have eased, will 2022 be the year for record numbers of abandoned dogs? I sincerely hope not.

Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

2- Don’t sterilise them too early

Depending on where you live (or your veterinarian’s or behaviourist’s knowledge base), they may advise you to sterilise your dog from between two months to one and a half years. Certainly, if you adopted from a shelter, your new dog comes to you neutered or spayed. Or you agree to get the job done as soon as possible. I used to think that male dogs, especially the volatile or wacky 9–12-month-old dogs, stood to benefit from a reduction in their hormone levels. And that we should spay females, to make their owners’ lives easier and for the prevention of unwanted litters, soon after their first heat. Turns out I was probably wrong. New studies prove that early sterilisation (early being defined as before 14 months) can cause a higher incidence of behavioural problems. And that sterilisation before their juvenile bodies have time to develop fully means a compromise in their physical health as well.

3-Let dogs sort out their own tiffs

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I used to micro-manage my dogs’ interactions. I’m talking about the six dogs that live in my house, that have been together for years. The five males and one female that share beds, bowls, balls and, of course, my esteemed affection. This “helicopter parenting” is a throwback from an earlier household configuration, when one cherished adopted male became deeply offended at the sudden appearance of a standard poodle puppy. Upon entering adolescence, the poodle took on a “macho” presence, and the race was on. Resentment reigned, battles ensued, and it left us with no alternative but to have the dogs cohabitate under a “one door open, one gate closed” policy. (For the uninitiated, this means you take great care to keep the dogs from ever meeting each other face to face. Not an easy way to live.) So, as a result, I’m wary of dog-dog reactions at close quarters, when shared resources prevail. But early this year I heard the ethologist Roger Abrantes point out that dogs can sort out these interactions on their own; most often than not, one of them backs out of a fight. It’s a case of pure evolutionary survival. I was working at my desk when I heard two medium-sized dogs start a rumble over a coveted bone. Instinctively, I jumped out of my chair. But this time, instead of breaking them apart, I simply observed their interaction. Poodle looked at me as if to say, “Aren’t you going to do something?”. Spanish Water Dog slowly backed away from the bone he’d been trying to steal. Tension reigned, probably because they were waiting for ME to do something. I turned around and walked away, thanking Dr. Abrantes for his wisdom. I haven’t felt the need to intervene since.

Photo by David Taffet on Unsplash

4-A ridiculously lazy, laid-back Labrador Retriever capable of creating mayhem, can be an excellent AD for a child with ASD

I know several crazy Labradors. This one, Kody, is three years old (which in Lab years means he’s barely out of his teens). He’s overly sociable and greets everyone like they’re his long, lost friend. When the person is someone he knows well, he greets them by jumping up and down excitedly; it’s as if he were bouncing on a trampoline. For any 45 kg dog, this is quite an impressive feat, but coming from a slobbery, grinning lab, this greeting elicits a horrified fascination.

But luckily this Lab not only has an “on” button, but he also has a natural propensity to chill. At home, once regulatory greetings or feeding time or tummy scratching sessions have passed, he hunkers down on the floor and snores. As they say, if he weren’t snoring, “there would be no dog at all”.

This “on-off” switch makes him an excellent dog for the family’s little girl, an 11-year-old with ASD. When she musters confidence and interacts with him under her mother’s encouragement, he bounces up from his snooze and waits for her to brush him, stroke him or offer him food. He is the model of patience. Ask him to work, and he activates himself immediately. Be it walking by your side, sitting at crosswalks and streetlights, or biding his time while you shop… he knows what he must do and exercises his tasks to perfection.

This Lab and his little girl will soon gain accreditation as an assistance-dog unit. I can’t wait. But in the meantime, it’s a pleasure to see an impossibly crazy Lab learn the ropes.

5-Dogs learn our language. (But, sadly, we rarely bother to learn theirs.)

Dogs have a million ways of communicating with us. They use a wide variety of facial movements, body language, and vocalisations to let us know how they feel. They have no choice but to express themselves; what you see is what they feel. The problem is, we are total crap at reading these messages. We look at them and see what we want to see. We humanise them, so much you’d think we’re talking about children instead of dogs. That’s why it’s nice to hear stories of dogs going to great lengths to get through to us. The other day, Wendy’s antics amazed her owner. Wendy is a Border Collie-Catalan Sheepdog mix who lives with a woman in her eighties. Wendy loves tennis balls, but like most dogs, she can’t always keep them under control. So Fina has been scooping wayward balls out from under her furniture for 5 years. It usually goes like this: Ball rolls under something out of Wendy’s reach. Wendy stares intently into the void, whines a little, and her body quivers. Eventually, Fina gets the message, pulls out a long shoehorn that sits in a vase, sweeps the floor under the furniture, and dislodges a ball. Sometimes two. The other day, Fina didn’t feel like getting up. Her hips hurt, and she didn’t want to hobble over to the dresser, bend over in search of a ball. She’d cleaned the bedroom that day and was certain there wasn’t a ball there. No sweetie, she said. Are you playing games with me today? Fina told Wendy to give it up already because there was no ball there, and she went back to her book. But Wendy wouldn’t let it go. She stared, she whined, she quivered. Nope. Occasionally, Wendy would go up to Fina and stare at her, in a bid for attention. After repeating this pattern to no avail, Wendy then did something remarkable. She went up to the vase, pulled out the long shoehorn, and brought it over to Fina. This is what you need, she seemed to say. Fina could no longer ignore her; she had to play along. So Fina got up, and with an exaggerated swoosh, slid the shoehorn across the floor under the dresser. To her surprise, a dusty ball rolled out. Wendy grabbed it triumphantly and pranced off. Fina swears she also threw her an ‘I told you so’ look as she walked away.

Photo by Shawn Ho on Unsplash

6-Dogs can break our heart

I called my sister to let her know we had lost our beloved poodle. We had put him to sleep the month before. Sam was 13 years old when he died, which is a good old age for Standard Poodles. Unlike the other dogs in my house, my sister knew our sweet boy personally. I stayed at her house when I flew home to Canada to pick him up from the breeder. And she knew how much he meant to me, how much we’d done together; she’d heard the training stories, had seen the Facebook posts and the photos of our road trips together. My sister had also lost one of her dogs not long before. A nice little cockapoo, about 6 years old. My sister is a tough, stoical cookie. So, I didn’t expect her to cry when she told me about losing little Doogie. “I can’t understand it. It’s not the first time I’ve had to put a dog down. But I just can’t get over it. I guess it’s because I’m getting old.” Wait, hold on, I said. I know just how you feel. Like her, losing Sam had hit me hard, and I knew it would take me years to stop feeling the pain. But neither she nor I were to blame. And no, it has nothing to do with our age. Her Doogie, and my Sam, were what one of my oldest friends calls the “heart dog”, the dogs that wiggle their way into the far reaches of your soul and refuse to leave. The ones that seize your imagination, rendering it impossible for any other canine companion to compete. Those beloved “heart dogs” that can break yours to pieces.

7-Dogs put up with a lot of our crap

Christmas is around the corner. People are hauling out the decorations and scrambling through street markets or big box stores for the perfect tree, dazzling lights and jolly ornaments. It’s festive, cheerful and I love it. What I dread is the growing number of photos of pets that festoon social media platforms. Those cute pictures with Bobby the pointer or Max the cat wearing a red and green snow-scene festooned sweater. Not to mention the headbands with reindeer antlers, Christmas baubles or stars shooting out from the dog’s head. Sitting dog stares at the camera with a sweet baleful look. Snap! And the dog suddenly becomes the laughingstock of Facebook.

I vowed early on never to do that to my dogs; Never have and never will.

However, the other day I met a little black poodle on the street. I vaguely know her people. The weather was brisk, and they had splurged on a new sweater for her. A plucky blue sweater with Doraemon’s face on the back. Doraemon! I love Doraemon. I once had a Doraemon pillow, a Doraemon pencil case, a Doraemon ice crusher… you get the picture. And now here’s his face adorning a poodle, innocently unaware of my laughter. The next day, I got the same sweater for my poodle. Wear it proudly, my boy!

Photo by Anderson Ribeiro on Unsplash

8-Dogs lose their brains when they hit adolescence

Technically, adolescence is the transition from childhood to adulthood. It may have early, middle, and late phases, each phase with its own physical and psychological changes. It occurs from between 6-9 months in males, and 6-16 months in females. Smaller dogs reach adolescence earlier than larger dogs.

Well, that’s what science says, but we all know what adolescence REALLY means. It’s that time of life when your sweet, compliant puppy, once so eager to learn and obey, transforms into a gangly, barking, defiant, rebellious monster that can’t remember a single thing you’ve taught him. It’s painful to experience, and it’s the reason many dogs of that age show up in shelters. Relinquished by people who could not wait out this challenging time. Because that’s what you must do. Practice patience. And give these other strategies for coping a try:

· Recognising and eliminating (if possible) stress factors in the dog’s life.

· Planning any neutering for a later stage, when the dog has gone through physical and psychological changes that come with adolescence. Doing it too early can cause behavioural problems later.

· Give the dog correct exercise for size and physiology—but don’t overdo it! Running around and chasing other dogs, balls etc. may cause more stress-related reactions than good.

· Train your dog. But be sure to train according to their maturity and, above all, train using positive reinforcement methods. Aversive training can have a detrimental effect on their behaviour, as well as weaken the bond you have with your dog.

· Provide enrichment opportunities. Slow walks that allow the dog to observe, smell, walk on different surfaces and heights. Scent work games and/or training.

· Let them sleep. Just like humans, dogs need to sleep comfortably and for long periods of time. Sleep restores the brain and reduces stress. Especially in adolescents.

Photo by Kojirou Sasaki on Unsplash

9-Dogs feel immense disappointment

This occurred to me one evening as we were preparing to go out to dinner with friends. Typically, our dogs get excited when we get up from the desk or the sofa and become more active. What’s up, they think, in anticipation of being included in the next course of events. But, instead of us starting a fun activity, they watch as we become absorbed in the preparation routine. We put on different clothes, shoes, and perfume, ignoring the dogs as we call out to each other, “Got the keys?” “Did you lock the back door?”, “Isn’t my coat back from the cleaners?” While we move about in self-absorbed intent, the dogs recognise a pattern. And slowly their mood dampens. They seem to freeze, eyes reflecting a growing apprehension. Long before I noticed their reactions, they had memorised the routine and knew exactly what was coming next: we were about to go out and leave them all by themselves. It’s hard not to call the look in their eyes, their entire mute reproach, a sign they were feeling let down.

Now for an even sadder story. My older brother passed away recently. He had a heart attack at home, entered the hospital and died a few weeks later. During the first weeks, his faithful herding dog stayed by the front door, expecting him to walk back through the door at any moment. He’d come to her when my sister-in-saw called, but return to his post immediately. Gradually, he began to leave the door for periods of time, but he still seemed to be waiting for a sign. It wasn’t until a few weeks after my brother’s passing that the dog began to seek company by my sister-in-law’s side.

Yes, dogs can feel disappointment—even heartbreak—big time.

Photo by Per Lööv on Unsplash

10-Dogs love (and need) slow walks

When the average person thinks of dogs, they think of action. They picture them running, jumping, chasing balls, or jogging alongside a bicycle. “Dogs need exercise!” they say. “They need to get that energy out of their system.”

Well yes, dogs need exercise. Like people, the “use it or lose it” principal rules. They need to exercise their muscles. They also benefit from getting outside, to let their five senses immerse in the outside world.

But they don’t need to hurry. In fact, they relish in the chance to walk along slowly, nose to the ground, exploring the earth rich with pungent smells. Dogs love to use their noses. They delight in plunging their muzzles into piles of leaves. Or lifting their heads to catch a whiff of other animals’ presence. Changing surfaces beneath their paws stimulates them. They perk up to fresh sounds and avoiding obstacles becomes part of the game.

This year I welcomed this idea. To challenge myself on how much variety I could find within our usual walking time. Some days, I let the dogs lead me. Other days, I steered them towards sources of environmental delights. Parking lots, the proximity of garbage bins, low-slung hedges along pathways frequented by other dogs… these are areas where smells abound. I let the dogs sniff and explore, allowing them to move their bodies loosely in random patterns directed by their noses. And by the time we get home, they are far more relaxed, refreshed and exercised than any brisk walk would achieve.

Dog Links: Meet Elvis the Airedale

A charming bon vivant that wins hearts wherever he wanders. Estefanía Alvarez tells us what life is like with their sparky pet.

He’s named after Elvis Presley—Juan and I are fans. We’d had a dog called Popeye and considered calling him Brutus, but it didn’t quite fit. But our Spanish Water Dog Ollie is named after Popeye’s girlfriend, Olive.

It didn’t seem right to keep an active dog in an apartment, so we spent a lot of time with him outdoors, in parks, in dog runs, on the street. It was hard on our schedules, but we’re glad we did it. He’s a gentleman with everyone.

It’s a clever breed; they keep you on your toes. Sure, Elvis will follow you everywhere, but he’s not likely to go running with you. He needs to be motivated, to know why he’s doing something. Unlike a Labrador, for example, who simply wants to be with you. Elvis wants to cooperate, but he needs to know what comes next, what the catch is. The breed is special like that; they don’t follow you blindly. You’ve got to know dogs, otherwise they try to pull the wool over your eyes.

We can’t keep him out of the kitchen. When we moved to our current house, he picked up the bad habit of stealing food. Bits of food missing here and there. One day, he even stole a birthday cake my sister-in-law had brought over! I think the change of house threw him off. So, we made the kitchen off limits to the dogs. Ollie respects this, but Elvis will sneak in at the first chance.

He’s never been sick, but when he was a puppy, he refused all dry pet food and had constant diarrhea. We’d switch brands, and things would improve for a while. But then it would start over again. He kept getting skinnier. This went on for his first year until we switched to raw food. Once we changed the diet, the problem went away.

I don’t eat meat, but this doesn’t extend to our dogs. I tried replacing meat with beans, but they got bloated and gassy. Dogs need meat; they have the teeth for it—but not me. Our own fridge can’t hold all their food too; they’ve got their own fridge now.

You can’t find many Airedales in this part of Spain. We’ve taught Elvis the basics, like sit, down, come, and how to fetch a ball. Maybe we should have taken up Agility or something like that. To take advantage of his talents and popularise the breed. But it’s too late, probably; our Elvis is a real homebody.

‘Comedian’ is the word I’d use to describe him. He’s full of pep, always poking his nose into things, and so inquisitive about whatever and whoever he encounters.

We lost him once. We went to spend Christmas with my brother in Sierra de Cazorla. The whole family rented a big house, and it was cold and snowing when we arrived. What with all the confusion, it took a moment to realise that Elvis wasn’t around. We started calling him and searching everywhere and finally we found him in the backyard pool, of all places! The water hadn’t frozen, and he’d slipped in. I doubt it was intentional; Elvis doesn’t like water. My guess is he got excited by all the wildlife smells; leaves covered the ground, and he probably followed his nose right into the pool. I laugh now when I recall his expression when we found him. It was a poem! So scared and clueless.

He’s an adventurer, fearless in a natural environment. He’s even confronted a wild boar in the mountain. The breed is a working dog, like for the police in Scotland; here in Spain they help hunt for wild boar.

We’re so happy with Elvis. He may have started out as a skinny black puppy, but he’s turned into our handsome, fun-loving boy.

Belén García Bonds with Shelter Dogs

I started visiting the Center d’Acollida d’Animals de Barcelona (CAACB, Barcelona Animal Refuge Centre) in the summer of 2010 while studying biology at university. I became a regular volunteer in 2013, about the time I learned how to train dogs.

We always had dogs at home, but when I lived on my own in Barcelona, I missed them terribly. Being a volunteer helped fill that void.

Belén and Balu, photo by Santos Román @retratista_animal

Volunteering is addictive. You get attached to some dogs and begin to feel for them; they weigh on your mind if you can’t make it there.

Each volunteer deals with it as best they can. It’s a unique, personal experience—everyone lives it differently. I know several volunteers who have stopped coming because the situation overwhelms them, or others who became sad when a dog they bonded with left. Most can manage the difficulties.

People may try to avoid becoming attached to a dog. Forging a bond with a dog doesn’t bother me. That’s what motivates me to continue.

How can you help shelter dogs? It’s simple, just put yourself out there, take action. Share information on social media, for example. Some see the dogs profiled on Facebook; they share the information and that helps. Sometimes they find homes and you think, of the 10 cases that I have shared today, two dogs have found a home. Great, I’ll continue sharing information. Another way to help is to volunteer, of course. Show up and dedicate your time. You leave there knowing you have given them quality time and have contributed something to their lives. People must do it according to their skills; there are people who don’t know how to manage it. Everyone must find a way that makes them feel good and feel helpful, without getting depressed or down. But the goal is always the same: to find them a home. The dogs must leave the shelter.

Maybe you don’t want to be in direct contact with cases but want to do something for animals. You could become a vegan, which is also a way to contribute indirectly. Some people volunteer in administration, working in logistics. Or involve themselves with animal rights movements. If you are an expert in a required field, you can be an advisor. For example, you may be an expert on animal abuse. There are thousands of ways to help.

Shelter dogs bond quickly with a person. Walk the same dog two or three times and he remembers you. If he’s happy to see you when he doesn’t know you, imagine what happens after you take him out of his cage a few times. There are also cases where you develop a stronger connection … I developed a crush on one dog from day one! Now, every time I go to the shelter, I save the last 10 minutes for him alone. You can have a healthy bond with a shelter dog. But keep in mind, the dog should be also bonding with other people, not just you.

Occasionally there are cases when the dog enters the shelter very fearful and must learn to trust people. At first one person gains his trust. It can be a gigantic step. When one person wins his trust, then another must do the same. Then another, and so on until, little by little, he trusts people. These are small steps, but the dog benefits immensely. This is the ideal scenario. Of course, there are dogs in the shelter which are walked by only one volunteer. However, problems arise when there is the possibility of adoption. I understand that there are dogs that, if it were not for the one person taking him out for his walk, would never leave the cage. But ideally, they learn to be confident with many people.

Belén and Balu, photo by Santos Román @retratista_animal

I adopted Balu in September 2016. He entered the centre when he was 6 months old, and I thought, what a beautiful dog! I was sure it would be one of those cases where someone snaps up the dog quickly. Myself, I thought I’d adopt an elderly dog. But we had a connection. I guess the dog chooses you. I would see him every week during his stay – about a month and a half – but tell myself he’ll be going soon. He had come in with another dog – his brother, I think – who soon left and Balu was on his own. Once I went into his cage to spend time with him, and he quietly fell asleep in my lap. Not once in four years as a volunteer had that happened to me. There he was, snoring away. Someone adopted him, but they returned him 24 hours later. I was there the day they brought him back and when I saw him back in the cage, and saw him… Well, I just couldn’t resist anymore. I saw that poor, lost look they get when they’re back in the same place. You can’t understand it until you see it. Besides that, the poor boy had a fever, he was sick, and I couldn’t bear to look at his sad face. I adopted him that same day.

Belén and Balu, photo by Santos Román @retratista_animal

The idea of ​​21 Hogares (21 Homes) is to help the “invisible” dogs, those that have been in the shelter for a long time. I met a photographer who volunteered at a shelter. She told me she took pictures of the dogs and of their success rate. After disseminating their picture, people adopted them within days. That was a revelation and the start of an initiative. Together with Emma Infante (of Futur Animal), we worked on the idea. Soon, more people and more shelters became involved, and we created a group, of which I am a spokesperson.

We’re outraged that a dog can live in a cage for 8 years. They become invisible. The idea behind photographing them is to capture their appeal in a quality image. This awakens compassion in people; it helps people connect. Instead of focusing on sorrow, people see them in a positive light. We focus on their tender qualities, their cheerful natures. Unfortunately, it just so happens that most fall under the label of potentially dangerous dogs, according to the breed-specific law. Or they’re older dogs—many are between 8 and 13 years old. There are also younger dogs who don’t fall under breed-specific legislation but who have been in the shelter for many years. These are dogs that people don’t see, who go unnoticed. A mystery, really, and sad.

We made a list of those that we consider urgent, who we’d like to see adopted as soon as possible, and there were 21 dogs on the list. That’s where the name comes from: 21 Homes. Because the chief aim is to find homes for them. The list has expanded since then, but the name stays the same. It reflects our goal to find homes for these “invisible” dogs.

Belen Garcia, lives in Barcelona

Biologist, Anthrozoologist and Canine Educator at Sentit Caní www.sentitcani.com