Paladin and Competitive Aggression II

Paladin, with her favorite chew toy in her favorite hole.

The idea of not training a dog fascinates me. It makes sense to me in many ways, because of how I approached horse training and how my relationship develops with my dogs. Paladin is a different kind of animal. Her breed has been around for the last 4,000 years or so. They evolved according to the need for them (to guard sheep and property) and to have the smarts to do these things on their own without direction. I'm telling you, she just knows things. I just have to keep my mouth shut and watch it happen.

In the horse world, especially  western events, training starts early. When Jan 1st of a horse's second year comes around, they are automatically considered a two-year-old, even if the poor bugger was born on Dec. 31st.

A horse isn't physically or mentally mature enough to carry a rider until their third, or better yet, fourth year, but that's just not the cowboy way. The ethics behind this are better left for another day, because once I get going, it's hard for me to shut up. I brought it up for another reason.

If a trainer plans on having their two-year-old ready for a reined cowhorse futurity, a lot of information needs to pass to that baby very quickly. Because of their youth and propensity for blowing minds and tendons at that age, they can't be ridden for long in one session.

The problem for me was, I wasn't, and still am not, a fast trainer. When I waded into the pro cowhorse world it took me an average of six to eight weeks to have a decent walk, trot and lope on a colt. I needed to be there in a week.

So, I learned to drop the unnecessary things. All the stuff that the young horse could learn on the way was put to the side and I handled it as it came up. Standing tied, picking up feet, being groomed, clipped, vetted, trimmed, shod, loading, saddled, all of it was handled as I needed it done.

This eventually led to an experiment I tried on the last horse I trained (he was almost four when I started him), my personal horse, Scrub, out of a favorite mare.

I decided to show him each step of the process only once. I figured if I really thought things through, and built each new experience as a stepping stone, it should be all I needed to do. I only did one step each day. If he didn't understand, then I took it as my mistake, figured where I had missed my mark, and went back to that before I tried the failed request again. Again, another story, another day.

Back to the dog. I don't think this approach would work with dogs. A dog wants to hang with their person, repetitions are okay, as long as they come from their trainer. Horses want you to leave them alone and go back to their friends. I do think it takes a lot less repetition for a dog to learn than most people do, unless each repetition asks for a better position, or refinement.

This attitude has made it easier for me to let Paladin grow into herself and keep her training to a minimum. There have been issues though.

The first is, she's a rhino. A very happy, enthusiastic rhino. If she wants something and there's a barrier between it and her, she just lowers that giant, bony head of hers and rams her way to it. The barrier can be the gate at the top of the stairs, the entrance gate to the property, or the airspace between her and a guest, be it dog or human. She is very fast, so the speed she can get to before her happy rhino greeting is insane.

Therefore, I have made personal space and respecting boundaries a priority.

Nobody pets the dog unless she sits, and doesn't touch.
If I say off, then she better off or hell will rain down on her big rhino head.

Which brings me to her next quality. She only listens if it makes sense. To her, not me. Sometimes the only point she sees is, "Oh, if I don't listen, I might die." It only happened twice, now she gets that I do have a line she can't cross and we're doing well. No, I'm not telling what it entailed, but nobody bled or limped, so there you are.

Paladin has a ferocious, endless hunger. She will scoop up and eat anything. I'll skip the food items, including week old baby diapers, and go straight to her other favorites. Pine branches, right off the tree. Packs of cigarettes, books, magazines, upholstery, tupperware, Brockle's precious tennis balls. PVC pipe, deck furniture, bottles of carpenter glue, almost anything with my scent on it and leather. You wouldn't believe what an adventure it is to pick up poop at my place.

This has eased off, most likely because they tasted terrible, hopefully because I take things from her and snarl "Mine!" She understands that command. It makes sense to her and she respects it. She will even show me things she wants to eat.

"How about these pliers?"

"Mine!"

"This wrench?"

"Mine!"

"Your tool belt?"

"Mine!"

"The chihuahua?"

On to difficulty # 365.

She wants to eat my small dogs. Seriously, I think she would kill them if I let her. Her demeanor changes if she thinks I'm not watching and she stalks them with intent.

This is a dog who, without training, allows chickens to sit on her, plays gently with the goats and naps next to them, walks through the horses every day and makes nose to nose contact with each. She guards little Hazel anytime she's alone, in the house or escaped into the horse pasture. She's even friendly with the barn cats. Yet she wants to kill my little dogs.

I was stumped, at least until I read this great article on different types of dog aggression, on a blog I was just turned on to, fuzzylogicdog.

"But in nature, competitive aggression means aggression to remove ecological competitors. I believe this covers a pretty wide range of competition, from sexual competition (rams trying to kill each other in breeding season) to food/territory competition (coyotes kill dogs for this reason). The competitor is outside the animal’s social group and there is no percentage in NOT fighting — there is no social harmony to maintain, and leaving the competitor alive means less food for the attacker. So this type of competition can be swift and brutal."


I think Paladin looks at the little dogs as a useless waste of resources, therefore, worthy of killing and eating. Her ancestors look pretty much the same as they do now. They can survive for a long time and protect their flock when the snow is too deep for their person to get to. We all know they had to eat something during those long winters. I'm guessing unnecessary competitors are high on the list.

The wisdom in this dog is incredible, I can't wait to see it bloom, but the rhino? That's going to be a long, uphill battle.

She is learning. As her attachment to me grows, so does her willingness to do what I ask. A month or so ago, all four horses were nose to nose with about ten head of the neighbors cattle. The electric fence was clearly on the fritz, because the damn critters were in the process of tearing down my horse fence. I muttered something unpleasant and went to grab my coat.

By the time I went outside, Paladin had walked down to the livestock. She was quiet, her head was up and her tail was relaxed. She worked her way in front of the horses and they politely backed away.

Now when did they work that out?

Then she began to bark. Deep, serious, "Get off my land!" barks. She didn't touch the fence or cattle, but raced up and down her side of the fence with the ferocious roar she can use when needed. The cattle left. She laid down and took a short nap before coming up to the house. It might seem simple, but for me, it was a beautiful affirmation of what kind of dog she is.

I think the adult dog is going to be astounding, as long as I don't eff her up.