Inside of a Dog_ What Dogs See, Smell, and Know - Alexandra Horowitz [25]
To evoke the outdated, simplistic model of packs glosses over real differences between dog and wolf behavior and misses some of the most interesting features of packs in wolves. We do better to explain dogs' taking commands from us, deferring to us, and indulging us by the fact that we are their source of food than by reasoning that we are alpha. We can certainly make dogs totally submissive to us, but that is neither biologically necessary nor particularly enriching for either of us. The pack analogy does nothing but replace our anthropomorphisms with a kind of "beastomorphism," whose crazy philosophy seems to be something like "dogs aren't humans, so we must see them as precisely unhuman in every way."
We and our dogs come closer to being a benign gang than a pack: a gang of two (or three or four or more). We are a family. We share habits, preferences, homes; we sleep together and rise together; we walk the same routes and stop to greet the same dogs. If we are a gang, we are a merrily navel-gazing gang, worshiping nothing but the maintenance of our gang itself. Our gang works by sharing fundamental premises of behavior. For instance, we agree to rules of conduct in our home. I agree with my family that under no circumstances is urination on the living room rug allowed. This is a tacit agreement, happily. A dog has to be taught this premise for habitation; no dog knows about the value of rugs. In fact, rugs might provide a nice feeling underfoot for some bladder release.
Trainers who espouse the pack metaphor extract the "hierarchy" component and ignore the social context from which it emerges. (They further ignore that we still have a lot to learn about wolf behavior in the wild, given the difficulty of following these animals closely.) A wolfcentric trainer may call the humans the pack leaders responsible for discipline and forcing submission by others. These trainers teach by punishing the dog after discovery of, say, the inevitable peed-upon rug. The punishment can be a yell, forcing the dog down, a sharp word or jerk of the collar. Bringing the dog to the scene of the crime to enact the punishment is common—and is an especially misguided tactic.
This approach is farther from what we know of the reality of wolf packs and closer to the timeworn fiction of the animal kingdom with humans at the pinnacle, exerting dominion over the rest. Wolves seem to learn from each other not by punishing each other but by observing each other. Dogs, too, are keen observers—of our reactions. Instead of a punishment happening to them, they'll learn best if you let them discover for themselves which behaviors are rewarded and which lead to naught. Your relationship with your dog is defined by what happens in those undesired moments—as when you return home to a puddle of urine on the floor. Punishing the dog for his misbehavior—the deed having been done maybe hours before—with dominance tactics is a quick way to make your relationship about bullying. If your trainer punishes the dog, the problem behavior may temporarily abate, but the only relationship created is one between your trainer and your dog. (Unless the trainer's moving in with you, that won't last long.) The result will be a dog who becomes extra sensitive and possibly fearful, but not one who understands what you mean to impart. Instead, let the dog use his observation skills. Undesired behavior gets no attention, no food: nothing that the dog wants from you. Good behavior gets it all. That's an integral part of how a young child learns how