I’ve been thinking a lot about multi-species interactions, as I’m starting up a new research project this autumn under the auspices of the Birmingham Multispecies Forum and this kind of work has been part of my core scholarly research for well over a decade now. Over sabbatical I’ve been doing some speculative thinking in this area, aided in part by visual ethnographic methodologies (on which I’ll share more in the months to come). We also became the keepers for a Welsh sheepdog, “Scout” just after Christmas, so I’ve been thinking a lot with Scout about how we need to change our family patterns to suit him and vice versa.
There are a lot of opinions on dog training, I mean A LOT. And I’ve not found many people who hold those opinions lightly, so it has been interesting sifting through the different kinds of dog whispering and the underpinning convictions which seem to drive them. There are some matters of bad science which has been cleared away in the scientific sphere, but not in the popular imaginary, so for example, it’s now widely understood among canine biologists that dogs (and wolves for that matter) don’t work around hierarchical “alpha male” led packs. There are also some serious questions about whether behaviourist models, seen in the switch away from dominance-led top-down and discipline heavy training models towards positive training models which take into account the sensntivity, intelligence and alterity of dogs. Justyna Wlodarczyk helpfully situates this within the “animal turn” led in large part by Donna Haraway about 20 years ago. In an article titled “Be More Dog: The human–canine relationship in contemporary dog-training methodologies” they highlight this broader trend in state of the art training methodologies.
I’ve had this all in mind as I work with Scout on various things. He’s only two years old and his former human companions really didn’t do much in the way of training, leaving him unaware of how to manage a lead, afraid of rivers or even water puddles (for lack of previous exposure!), unsafe in managing roads and so on. Of course, all the advice we’ve gotten since then has focussed on the need to heavily train him for right behaviours. I’ve unwittingly found myself following this advice on several occasions only to notice Scout uninterested, confused by, or resistant to training. These matters are a bit more acute in urban environments, such as ours, as dogs can be at risk from harm from other humans and dogs, in many cases due to (at least the narratives go) a lack of training.
One area which is a bit more ambiguous is food. Being a sheepdog, Scout’s biology is oriented towards hypersensitivity, breeders in previous centuries attributed this to being able to sense risk to the flock and suitably raise alarm and protect sheep from predators. In the city, this leads to a lot of sensory overwhelm, something I can relate to on many levels. Lucky for Scout, our house is sensorially very quiet. There are still, however, areas where his anxiety can show, especially around mealtimes. Again, stress surfacing in experiences of food and eating is pretty common stuff for neurodivergent humans, so I’ve had this in the back of my mind as we work together to find a routine that works for him. But it has been difficult, with Scout often choosing not to eat, or only eating a small portion of the food we’ve offered. He’s uninterested in most kinds of dog treats, and not highly motivated by food in general.
The dog trainers on instagram, always happy to dispense their advice had several helpful tips. One frequently occuring set of rules was driven by the behaviouralist paradigm: set out his food at a specific time and remove it shortly after. The thinking goes, if we provide something on a predictable routine and then make it clear that the only way he’ll get food is by following those rules, he’ll fall in line. Again, it’s interesting to note how many parallels there are here to inpatient mental health care in previous decades, with food and routine used as part of behaviouralist routines.
This really hasn’t worked for Scout, and we’re still trying to get a sense of what’s at the bottom of things. Some nights he’ll gobble up a whole dish with happy gusto, and others, he’ll sniff at things and retreat. We’ve tried to add certain bursts of activity to get his metabolism moving, we’ve tried adding variety and supplementing his food with other interesting extras (whilst trying to avoid drifting into a complete lack of nutritional benefit). We’ve gone with enrichment, making eating into an activity. We’ve tried different kinds of food mix and ingredients. And we’re still trying, not quite sure what is driving his varying interest. We’ve also wondered on some occasions whether it’s presence he likes – our sons are certain that Scout needs to sit with another human while they eat, having a mealtime companion. And I’m not sure they’re wrong about this, though the pattern still hasn’t held with some testing of this theory as well.
The overarching point I’m driving towards is that I’ve begun to see food with Scout not as another aspect of training, but as a process of co-creating rituals. We’re attempting to get a sense of the proper order, activities, sensorium, and so on, fusing our ritual needs with his. And this is a long process, which doesn’t just involve discerning his “nature” but also a subtle and gradual shift in our alterities towards one another. There’s also a sense of ritual meaning, thinking about how we can think with him and vice versa about the higher aspects of ritual, a sense of thankgiving, awareness of our prilege and the web of interconnectedness and forms of benevolence that bring food to us, and finding ways to do this which aren’t about hierarchies or control, but about shared expressions of gratitude in a variety of modes and languages. I’ve been left wondering how much this process of co-creating rituals might be taken as a template for thinking about improving our relationships with a whole variety of creatures, not just mammals or even animals. More on this as my speculative experiments continue!