Less obvious consequences of reactivity

As anyone that has read articles on this blog knows, my young dog Finn is reactive, to both dogs and people.

I do miss that pink nose!

These words keep cropping up – reactive, reactivity. I have written a number of articles myself concerning the subject, and there are many, many more out there in the world. Yet it still seems the message does not reach those in the ‘normal’ dog world. I question whether it might be more constructive for those of us trying to get the point of view from our side of the terrified hound to use different language. Fearful is a word I often use, although again, whether this gets the extent of the mental trauma these scared dogs can go through is questionable.

Explaining reactivity to the uninitiated (and frustratingly frequently out in public the unsympathetic and disinterested) is difficult. The standard explanation I have seen in a number of places is that a reactive dog is one that reacts to certain stimuli excessively in comparison with the average dog. The difficulty with this phrase is that I have yet to encounter an average dog! At the risk of being labelled a woolly anthropomorphising apologist for my ‘badly behaved’ dog, I tend to equate it to phobias when explaining to people. I have a phobia myself, a primal, unreasoned fear of something perfectly normal in our world. To the majority of people, it is absolutely fine. To me, utterly terrifying and I have been known to blindly run with no thought of my surroundings or the consequences. The only thing I have in mind is getting as much distance as physically possible between me and my trigger.

Sound familiar?

The immediate consequences of reactivity are upsetting enough, for both guardian and dog. We have all been there, those of us with these special dogs, under the disapproving stare from the person whose ‘friendly’ dog ‘just wants to play’ and has no recall, if the guardians even bother to try and recall their dogs. Our dog is now triggered into the barking, growling bundle of furious fluff on the end of his lead (although somehow it’s always our on lead dogs labelled as out of control?). I was actually accused of having an out of control dog once before, with my old boy Red, who is not reactive at all. Apparently walking an uncastrated dog in public on a lead is irresponsible... said the dog owner whose off-lead in season bitch was practically doing cartwheels under Red's bemused nose. I have never quite understood how an on lead dog can be the one out of control! We are also all familiar with the fact that the rest of a walk after a reaction is likely to be a very tense, edgy affair, with a hyper-vigilant dog looking out in every possible direction for further perceived dangers.

These overt, in the moment consequences are highly visible and seem to disappear quickly. Internally, it is a different matter. The hormones linked with fear, preparing the dog for the fight or flight response, trigger a number of changes in the body. All of these changes are aimed at aiding the dog to survive the immediate threat. Everything is primed towards either being able to run away from a situation or for the dog to fight his way out of the corner in which he is trapped. Anything that does not serve either of those functions is deemed non-essential and so is suppressed. Fine if the fear is short term and the episodes are rare. Not so much if the poor scared dog is living on a constant knife-edge of fear, either because his guardians have not yet been able to understand what the problem is, or factors outside of their control cause problems, meaning sudden, unplanned exposure to triggers without being able to create distance before the dog feels the need to react.

Among these supposed non-essential systems that are affected are the digestive system as a dog about to flee or fight for his life is not going to feel hungry or want to be weighed down by a full stomach. The excretory systems slow so that the dog does not have to interrupt his fight for survival to toilet. The immune system is suppressed because as far as the dog's nervous system is concerned death by scary thing will happen far before there is a chance of infection making the dog ill. Again, not too much of a problem so long as the fear is not a long-term issue.

But what if it is? What if the stress levels never get a chance to drop back down to the baseline normal? What if the dog's system is never clear of these hormones? A longer-term existence with a reduced immune system leaves the dog open to all kinds of illnesses. A suppressed digestive system leaves a dog with little appetite and massively reduced energy reserves, making the dog feel weak and ill, and increasing the levels of stress hormones further. Reduced excretions can lead to kidney problems. A dog suffering from long-term stress can become victim to a range of adaptation diseases, including heart damage, as their body struggles to cope with a situation they are not biologically capable of sustaining long term.

This was really brought home to me over the Christmas break. When we first moved to the house we currently live in, behind was fields. It is now a housing estate, and this past Christmas was the first with the houses backing onto us occupied. Finn is a very nervous dog and easily distracted outside by the sound of anyone he does not know. On the day after Boxing Day, the house behind us had a party, with a group of kids (Finn's ultra-nemesis) playing a VERY loud game of football. And by very loud, I mean several of them full on screaming at the tops of their lungs. This was at around 5 p.m. when Finn had asked to go outside for his regular toilet time (he is a dog of extremely regular routine in all ways!). He screeched to a halt in the middle of the lawn, listened for about 2 seconds and bolted back indoors.

We tried getting him to go back outside after he had been fed (his recovery time has so improved, a victory I am very happy to celebrate every time it improves at all) and he would go outside, but could not relax enough to do more than walk around the garden listening. He had asked to go out to poo at 5 in the afternoon, but it took until 1.20 the following morning before I could persuade him to go or even have a wee, and that was only by spending 20 minutes walking around the garden with him and having to wait him out. If I had been less observant and not gone out with him every time he went into the garden because I knew there would be a problem, he could well have tried to settle down for the night having not toileted at all. At best, there could have been a mess to clean up in the morning, or there might have been a very unhappy, very uncomfortable dog.

Obviously, we do not live in a perfect world. Others are well within their right to have parties (although less full on screaming kids might be nicer to the eardrums!) but we guardians of the scared dogs have to do our best to try to think of all the things that might affect our pets, over and above the usual canine guardian responsibilities.

This is a big part of why Finn has utterly changed my outlook as a dog guardian. He has taught me more in under 2 years than 35 or more years’ worth of dogs before him. He will be 2 in a little under a month. I am not sure he will ever be anything close to a 'normal' dog, but he will always be my special little man (at 23 inches to the shoulder and varying between 25-26 kg hardly little when it comes to the Border Collie standard!)

He does enjoy a good relaxed sprawl 😄

Being the guardian of a reactive dog is hard, so very, very hard. It is emotionally draining. Sometimes it feels like you will never make any progress. That is why we celebrate any victory. Make the most of the good days, when things go right. These oh so scared dogs need us, the ones that will try with them and for them, to make their world a better, safer space for them.