As the owner of a nine-month-old Jack Russell Terrier bitch, called Mini, I am increasingly aware of the different perceptions and reactions towards dogs.
Dog ownership levels in the UK are increasing and approximately 23% of UK households own at least one dog (PFMA, 2012). It is easy to forget that some people do not like dogs. For example, Mini naturally weaves around the path when she walks of lead — following scents and greeting people as we pass. Many people stoop to pet her, being rewarded as she wriggles on to her back at their feet. But some people actively shy away from her. Similarly I have met a number of dog owners who recall their dogs when they see Mini. With all dogs safely back on their leads we comment as we pass each other — usually with them explaining that their dog has previously been attacked by a Jack Russell and with me explaining that Mini is harmless. It does make me wonder: to me, Mini still looks like a sweet and cuddly little puppy, but how does she appear to other people? Perceptions obviously vary.
‘Dangerous dogs’ are a very hot topic right now. Dog attacks, especially towards children, have resulted in significant media attention and legislative action. Knee-jerk reactions to tabloid headlines and documentaries are shaping society's ideological construction of dangerous dogs. DEFRA (2012) state that ‘it is an offence to allow a dog to be dangerously out of control in a public place or in a private place where it is not allowed to be’. But what does ‘dangerously out of control’ mean? Mini does not always come back when I call her — it's a Jack Russell trait — she chooses to ignore me and will come to heel when she's good and ready. But does this mean that she is out of control? I would argue not. I could probably get her to come back if I really needed to. Likewise, when playing with humans and other dogs she can get excited and, as terriers do best, bark and growl. She will also do this is she feels she is being ignored. But this doesn't mean that she is dangerous… does it?
According to DEFRA (2011), a dog is dangerously out of control if it ‘injures a person, or it behaves in a way that makes a person worried that it might injure them’. Of course we need some rules regarding the safe conduct of dogs, but to me these seem a little vague. By definition the people who shy away from Mini or recall their dogs to ‘prevent’ a fight are likely, on some level, to be worried about injury. But Mini hasn't done anything wrong. Similarly, a friend of mine owns a large, rescued ‘Stafe’ cross who is incredibly gentle, but has a tendency to look worrying when she feels threatened. People have been known to shout and try to kick her because of their preconceptions about her behaviour. Another preconception about dogs is barking. Dogs have a complex social structure and barking can mean all sorts of things. It can be a warning, a call for attention, a call to play, a sign of anxiety or it can be form of aggression. Yet if a dog is seen barking at a person, or another dog, it is generally seen as unacceptable behaviour and a sign that the dog in question is ‘out of control’.
I am not immune to hype surrounding ‘dangerous dog’ breeds. If I see a Staffie type dog walking of the lead towards us then I automatically become alert. I then mentally check myself for my behaviour. I have not yet come across a Staffie which I would deem dangerous, and certainly not one which I would worry about Mini being around.
Dogs' reactions are, to an extent, dependent on circumstances, just as humans' are, and widespread misunderstanding of canine behaviour is fuelling the UK dangerous dog ideology. More efforts need to be focussed on educating society about canine behaviour and how best to react if one feels threatened by a dog. Kicking and shouting is unlikely to do anyone any favours and much anxiety towards dogs could be prevented with a few words of advice.