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Dog Training: Treating Reactivity, Part 3


This is Oddy

The Case of Oddy, the Miniature Schnauzer, Part 2

Odysseus and Penelope (Oddy and Penny), two miniature schnauzers, were attacked by another, much larger dog, while out on a walk. Penny actually came pretty close to dying from her wounds, and was in the hospital clinging to life for several days. She pulled through, but, oddly enough, didn’t suffer from post-traumatic stress. Oddy, on the other hand, who wasn’t hurt as badly, did.

Why the difference?

Entangled Schnauzers

First it’s important to understand how the dogs' personalities differ. They’re roughly the same age. Penny is about two months older than Oddy. She’s also much smaller; Oddy is almost the size of a standard schnauzer. And while they have some surprisingly similar character traits in some ways, they’re also quite different.

When I first met them, I found that Penny was very playful, a little mischievous at times, and liked to roll over on her back for tummy rubs. She was quite a bit smaller than her “brother,” but seemed to be in charge of things. She also seemed to dislike going on walks, which I thought might have been a repercussion from the attack, but I was told that she’d always been like that.

Oddy, on the other hand, didn’t know how to play except with Penny. He also exhibited more tension, stress, and showed less emotional elasticity than his “sister.” For instance, I never saw him roll over on his back for a tummy rub or for any other reason.

They would play together every day, but if Penny found another dog she liked to play with Oddy was unable to join in.

Another difference is that Penny had been a part of the household since puppyhood while, for various reasons, Oddy had been kenneled (at the breeder) during certain important developmental phases, and hadn’t been brought into the household till he was nearly six months of age. I don’t know for certain that this accounts for the difference in their responses to the traumatic event, but there is evidence showing that children in foster care may be five times more likely to develop PTSD than children raised in a traditional family setting. I believe that the dog-human bond which develops during puppyhood bears some important similarities to having a normal childhood with loving human parents. So if the boarding kennel = foster care, that might have been a contributing factor.

There may be another reason Oddy was more affected by the event emotionally, though Penny sustained the most physical damage.

Life-Threatening Physical Injuries & Hypercathexis

In 1920 Sigmund Freud wrote about the symptoms of PTSD (then referred to as “the war neuroses”). He said that “two characteristics emerge prominently: first , that the chief weight in their causation seems to rest upon the factor of surprise, of fright; and secondly, that a wound or injury inflicted simultaneously works, as a rule, against [their] development.” (“Beyond the Pleasure Principle,” 1920.)

If this is true, it might explain why Penny didn’t develop symptoms of PTSD, and why Oddy did. It also explains why, generally speaking, a soldier who isn’t seriously injured is more likely to develop symptoms of PTSD than those who are.

First, I think it’s important to understand why Freud refers to what we now call PTSD as a neurosis. Neuroses are anxiety-based behaviors or sets of behaviors, where the energy invested in them is out of balance, either with the normal reasons for producing such behaviors or with the amount of energy that might normally be expended on them. In dogs the 1st might be something like humping inanimate objects or chasing cars, and the 2nd might manifest as separation anxiety or obsessive guarding of toys or other objects. Second, most if not all neuroses are the result of repressed emotional energy. I believe this is true in both humans and dogs.

In Freudian terms, the mind's "control panel" (the ego) has the job of deciding which internal and external stimuli (excitations) should be a) paid attention to, b) ignored, c) have their energies blocked (repressed), or d) have their energies projected (cathected) onto persons or objects in the environment including the subject's own body. So the gross physical traumathe sheer mechanical force that accompanies a serious, life-threatening injurydemands that none of the mind's energy can be wasted on "mere trifles;" it all has to be projected onto the body itself so as to enable healing and/or self-preservation. Or as Freud put it, “the physical injury, by calling for a narcissistic hypercathexis of the injured organ, would bind the excess of excitation.” (610)

Meanwhile, for the subject whose injuries aren't as serious, those same emotional energies aren't projected (or cathected) onto the body, they're repressed by the mind, resulting in what Freud called "the compulsion to repeat," which is one of the chief features of PTSD (i.e., the subject is unconsciously compelled to repeat the feelings surrounding the initial trauma over and over again).

Furthermore, Freud made it quite clear that fright, fear, and anxiety were not synonyms; they represented clear distinctions in how we relate to danger. Anxiety, he said, “describes a particular state of expecting the danger or preparing for it, even though it may be an unknown one. ‘Fear’ requires a definite object of which to be afraid. ‘Fright,’ however, is the name we give to the state a person gets into when he has run into danger without being prepared for it; it emphasizes the factor of surprise.” (598.)

Once again, if we listen to stories from veterans about how their PTSD developed it’s not uncommon to hear them say that the danger “came out of nowhere,” or “I wasn’t prepared for what happened.” And since PTSD is classified as an anxiety disorder, and anxiety is a state of “constantly expecting … danger or preparing for it,” this makes sense.

While I don't believe dogs think about their experiences, or try to explain or understand them through internal monologues, I think the basic principles can still be applied.

If I'm right, then Penny's injuries necessitated that whatever psychic (mental or emotional) energy she had available at the time be focused (or projected) solely on to the tasks of self-preservation and healing. Meanwhile the excess energy the traumatic event had stimulated in Oddy had no place to go. It got stuck, which in turn created an unconscious compulsion to repeat the event over and over.

By the way, Oddy is a completely different dog now. He's no longer reactive towards other dogs, cyclists, skateboards or joggers. In fact, the last time he and Penny stayed with me, he was so calm and relaxed that the would often roll over on his back, for no reason, and wiggle around like a puppy!

How did that happen? I'll explain in a further installment (or two).

Lee Charles Kelley

“Life Is an Adventure—Where Will Your Dog Take You?”

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