Learning his 'umwelt'

I stand shivering in the dew-covered grass of evening, while my dog Rocky excitedly sniffs each blade of grass and piece of dirt. The leash in my hand pulls taut when Rocky reaches for a new smell, just out of the boundary of his confinement.
“Rocky, we’re out here to do your business,” I remind him.
A noise catches his attention and Rocky strains against me, panting and looking out into the hayfield. I can hear a deer shuffling across the high grass of the field. When the deer breaks into a run, Rocky jumps straight up and begins to bark.
“OK, we may as well go back in,” I say.
Obviously, no “business” will be conducted on this trip. Rocky and I had different agendas. Mine was to go out for some quick, before-bed dog business, and Rocky’s was a thorough investigation of the yard and potential romp through the woods.
I blame his “umwelt.”
Umwelt is a new term in my vocabulary thanks to the book I’m reading, “Inside of a Dog” by Alexandra Horowitz. She describes the dog’s umwelt as “their self world,” or “what life is like as the dog.”
Horowitz has a PhD in cognitive science and has studied dogs and other animals. Her book takes us into the umwelt of the dog, from its serious sense of smell to whether or not the dog understands the concept of right and wrong.
Horowitz contends that dogs understand humans much better than humans understand dogs. She attributes this to the dog’s continual observation of those humans in his life. Dogs watch us constantly. They understand minute movements in our expressions and habits that we may not be aware we are enacting. This level of attention allows the dog to read us like a psychic with a crystal ball.
Since reading this book, I’ve been paying more attention to the motions I make and what reaction I get from Rocky when I do them.
For example, all I have to do is move my hand toward my pocket, whether it be pants pocket or coat pocket, and I have Rocky’s attention. He has not only figured out that my hand in my pocket means a treat, but he knows the slightest motion of my hand toward my pocket is a good sign of the same intention. This works great when my intention is to give him a treat, but not so great when all I want to do is warm up my hand. Either way, I have a dog in front of me with an expectant look on his face.
I don’t think he believes me when I explain there are no treats in the pocket this time. I get “the look,” as if he knows I’m withholding something that is rightfully his.
Horowitz also gives advice on how to have a smoother relationship with your dog.
Many people take their dogs for walks, but are we walking for our benefit, or for the dog’s? From the dog’s point of view, or umwelt, a walk doesn’t have to be all the way around the block at a brisk pace. Most often, the dog would prefer what Horowitz calls a “smell walk.” A smell walk allows the dog to stop wherever he wants and sniff for as long as it takes to get the information he needs from the scent. Even if you only get 100 feet away and come back, to the dog, it’s a successful walk if he now knows all the dog gossip of that 100 feet. Pulling the dog along before his investigation is complete is like walking past a table at a restaurant and hearing, “and then the greatest thing happened when….’”
We are left forever wondering what that greatest thing was, just as the dog is left wondering when we pull him away from the local fire hydrant.
Sunday was a beautiful fall day to experiment with a smell walk. My husband and I took Rocky and Lisha for a walk on a wooded trail behind our farm. I observed the difference between Rocky’s idea of a walk and Lisha’s. Lisha is a hound mix and runs along the trail with her nose down. Rocky likes a good sniff too, but he is more apt to run along the trail with his eyes up. Rocky is more of a seeing and hearing dog, especially when it comes to squirrels and birds. So instead of stopping to let Rocky get the entire sniff message, I found myself stopping while he focused his eyes and ears on things in the woods. Different dog, different umwelt.
Horowitz also urges humans to learn to accept their canine companion’s “dogness.”
We often bring a dog into our home and expect the dog to act like a small human, when what they know how to do so well is to act like a dog.
I learned this lesson from my sister’s Alaskan malamute, Raven. Some time ago, my sister was having “trouble” with Raven and asked me to speak with him. Since I do animal communication, I was happy to oblige. Raven explained his problem.
“I’m a big dog,” he said. “She needs to let me be a big dog.”
Yes, Raven is a big dog, and as a big dog sometimes he doesn’t fit in tight places. He has a loud bark and a need to explain himself in lengthy terms. He takes up space when he lies in the middle of a room and he dribbles water from his lengthy chin when he drinks.
Now, I am trying to understand the world from the point of view of my German shepherd/herder mix Rocky. I need to understand Rocky’s dogness.
Rocky has energy and curiosity. Rocky loves to run and to herd things. This means I can’t expect Rocky to lie around in the yard unsupervised and be content like my dog Lisha does. Rocky needs something to do. I can either provide that something, or I can learn to not complain when Rocky finds something to do on his own. Preferred activities in Rocky’s mind could involve following the trail of a porcupine, chasing deer, visiting the neighbors, or rolling on a dead mouse for an hour.
Understanding his “dogness” has led me to rethink my meaning of good dog and bad dog. I’m seeing that to punish a dog for being a dog does not make a good human/dog relationship. I need to save my discipline for the really serious infractions, like biting or doing business in the house. For the smaller annoyances, re-directing Rocky’s enthusiasm works better than discipline.
“A complex animal cannot be explained simply,” says Horowitz.
Indeed.