Nicholas H. Dodman

If Only They Could Speak

An excerpt

The Two Dogs of Mrs. Spinelli

As a veterinarian who specializes in treatment of behavior problems in animals,I routinely meet stimulating people, and Caroline Spinelli definitely fell into that category. A confident but kindly-looking fifty-year-old woman with a heart-shaped face, expensively coiffed blond hair and oversized blue-tinted spectacles, Mrs. Spinelli cut an imposing figure that practically demanded undivided attention. She clutched a small, rather straggly-coated, nervous-looking black poodle to her chest with one arm while her pocketbook swung lazily from the other. As we made our way to the consulting room, her considerably younger consort, Teddy, who was tenuously holding the lead of a shifty-looking, midsized German shepherd, walked a couple of paces behind us. The poodle's rhinestone collar and the shepherd's shifty eyes glinted under the glare of the fluorescent lights in my office.

It was a freezing cold January day when Mrs. Spinelli, Teddy, the two dogs, and I got together to discuss what for her was a pressing problem, a feud thathad broken out between her two dogs. Outside the ground was frozen hard like iron, the Massachusetts landscape was dusted white with frost, and tree branches glistened with frozen rain, giving them an appearance of glass. We were glad to be inside. Mrs. Spinelli took center stage as she made introductions all around, still clutching the timorous poodle, whose name, I was informed, was Bonnie. Teddy sat in the wings keeping a close hold on Tina, the German shepherd. Both dogs were neutered females. Bonnie was seven years old, and Tina just over two. Bonnie was Mrs. Spinelli's original dog and was clearly her favorite. I saw a kind of nervousness in the shepherd that comes from a lack of proper schooling and direction, and in the poodle I saw uncertainty and dependency.

As Mrs. Spinelli spoke about the dogs' problems, pausing occasionally to sigh and gaze heavenward, I puzzled over her thick South American accent and wondered how she had come to be living in the Boston area. My curiosity didn'tprevent me from hearing every word she was saying.

"Dr. Dodman," she proclaimed, "I don't know what's got into Tina. She's suddenly become extremely jealous of Bonnie and I think she's going to kill her. I'm a busy woman and worrying about these two dogs is wasting a lot of my precious time. I'm not sure I can continue on like this. Is there any way you can help or do I have to find a home for Tina?"

My mind raced through the myriad cases of infighting between family dogs that I had seen over the years, searching for a parallel situation. As common a problem as such infighting is, each case has its own unique dynamic involving not only the dogs themselves but also the owner. Often the problem stems in part from a power struggle between the dogs involved, in part from subtle alliances between one or the other dog and the owner. Sometimes the problem is more symbolic than serious, and at other times it is downright deadly.

"I should be able to help you," I said cautiously. "This problem is normally referred to as sibling rivalry, whether the dogs are actually siblings or not. I will need some more information from you first before I can tell you how to proceed and give you some idea of the likelihood that you will be able to turn things around."

"Very well," Mrs. Spinelli sighed. "Let me start the ball rolling by telling you that the problem has been going on for the last two months. . . . That's about right, isn't it, Teddy?"

"Yes, it was November, I think, when the first incident occurred," Teddy replied quietly.

This was the first time I had paused to survey Teddy carefully. A slim ascetic type, he had aquiline features framed by a full head of curly black hair. His expression was drawn and I could tell from his countenance that he shared Mrs.Spinelli's grave concern.

"It is terrible, Dr. Dodman, just terrible," Mrs. Spinelli said, shaking her head and removing her glasses to clean them. "With all the love I give these dogs, I can't imagine why there would be any reason for them to fight."

"Tell me about the November incident," I prompted.

She drew a deep sigh and led off with what was for her an extremely painful account.

"Well, I had just come back from food shopping and I opened the door and put the bags down on the floor, turning to Bonnie to greet her first. I always greet Bonnie first, and then I go over to Tina and make a fuss of her, too. This time they both approached me excitedly, and suddenly, with no provocation at all, Tina lunged and attacked Bonnie, seizing her by the head and thrashingher from side to side. I screamed out something like, "My God, Tina, stop it," and grabbed Tina by the collar in an attempt to pull her off Bonnie. Bonnie did get free, yes, for a short time, but Tina then ran after her, pulling me down on the floor and dragging me across the living room floor before grabbing Bonnie again. I knew I had been injured but somehow I managed to summon the strength to pin Tina against a desk and then I jammed my hand into her mouth to stop her from biting Bonnie. Bonnie scampered off into another room, leavinga trail of blood behind her. I threw Tina out into the backyard while I caught my breath and took stock of the situation.

"I was trembling all over like jelly and was breathless with the exertion and pain," she continued. "Tina had punctured my hand with her sharp teeth, and my right rib cage, in fact, the whole right-hand side of my body, was throbbing as I limped over to find out what had happened to Bonnie. I found Bonnie sitting in a corner shivering and picked her up to find large gaping wounds all over her head. One of her ears had been almost ripped off," she said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "I called for Teddy and we jumped into the car and headed for the vet's right away. My poor Bonnie, she had more than twenty stitches. Look at these photographs. These were taken right after the surgery." She pushed an envelope containing photographs toward me and the room fell silent as I surveyed the damage.

Tina certainly had done a butchering job on Bonnie. Red incision lines and rows of stitches ran across the top of her small head and down the side of her cheek, behind her ear, and across her neck. If you didn't know you were looking at the picture of a dog, you would have thought it was an aerial shot of a railroad junction. This was real reconstructive surgery.

"Goodness!" I exclaimed, whistling through my teeth. "She really did a number on Bonnie, didn't she."

"Oh, it was vicious, Dr. Dodman, just vicious."

"Tell me about the other incidents. Were they just as bad?"

"Oh yes, they were terrible, too. We were trying to keep the dogs separate. We pent the whole time carrying Bonnie around whenever Tina was around, but Teddy made one mistake in December and that was all it took. He was standing guard at the French doors, waiting for Bonnie to come back from her nighttime walk, and was ready to pick her up. But as Bonnie crossed the threshold, Tina left her bed under the stairs, flew at her, and grabbed her by her little body. Teddy had to nearly choke her to death to get her to release Bonnie. The commotion woke me from a deep sleep, and as I attempted to come down the stairs, I stood on the edge of my silk kimono-style nightdress that was billowing out behind me, slipped, and fell, crashing into a gate that I had installed to keep the dogs apart at night.

"The third attack was similar, but this time I had taken some liberties, allowing the dogs to interact together outside because Tina, Dr. Dodman, seemed to be in such a good mood. I had her on lead and she seemed quite happy until we decided to go back into the house. But as that dreaded threshold appeared, she once again lunged at Bonnie, and this time, I swear, she would have killed her if Teddy and I hadn't separated them by hauling Tina off her by the tail."

"I gather you don't have them together at all now, is that correct?"

"That's correct, Dr. Dodman. You know, we just can't risk it. Since that last attack, Tina is restricted to the living room, kitchen, and an area downstairs near the garage. She is no longer allowed upstairs, even though she used to sleep on our bed at night. Whenever we want to bring Bonnie downstairs we lock Tina in the garage area before we even think about bringing Bonnie down. She can then go out into the yard to do her business and is confined in her area again before Tina is allowed back into the house."

"What a way to go on," I exclaimed.

"Yes, it's almost intolerable. If this continues I may even have to get rid of Tina."

Before giving Mrs. Spinelli the fundamentals of treatment, I asked a few more questions about both dogs' backgrounds and found out that both had what I call dysfunctional histories. Bonnie had been a pound dog and Mrs. Spinelli had acquired Tina at a pet store when she was three or four months of age. To me, both these backgrounds were relevant to the dogs' underlying fears, though Tina's aggression toward Bonnie was certainly also a feature of her struggle for dominance. She was vying with Bonnie for the alpha position in the home, and with her young-adult confidence and larger physical size was bullying Bonnie over valued resources (such as Mrs. Spinelli's attention) and privileges (the right to cross the threshold first). I suspected that the situation had been some time in the making and that Mrs. Spinelli's constant support for Bonnie, and the fact that Bonnie was allowed to sleep in her bed—her nest, in essence—had finally roused what could reasonably be construed as jealousy on the part of Tina.

At that time in the Tufts Behavior Clinic, we were advising clients to support the dog who normally was the aggressor and the one who, through size and confidence, would probably be the natural leader. Nowadays we factor in age and incumbency as important considerations (not that it would have changed the advice that I supplied in this particular case). I determined that Tina was unlikely to accept any rank other than top dog, so I knew I had to advise Mrs. Spinelli to change her tack completely. I could tell that Mrs. Spinelli was not going to like the treatment I was about to suggest.

First I explained to her that it was only prudent to keep both dogs separated for the time being, until she could establish better control over them, Tina in particular. I also instructed her on our leadership program and fitted Tina with a head halter so that Mrs. Spinelli would have better physical control over her when a reintroduction was eventually attempted. In addition, I advisedMrs. Spinelli to support Tina over Bonnie in all matters, greeting her first, feeding her first, and allowing her to come through doorways first. Strict physical control of both dogs would be essential at all such times. Bonnie, who loves her crate, was to be crated while the Spinellis were away, and Mrs. Spinelli was to make a tremendous fuss over Tina on her return. The same would apply to mealtime, with Bonnie being fed second, and inside her crate. Lastly, Tina would be ceremoniously walked through the door, using her head halter to guide her, and the carefully chaperoned Bonnie would bring up the rear. Finally, since the behavior Tina had shown was so severe, I suggested that we should treat her with Prozac to reduce the likelihood of serious aggression should the two dogs inadvertently come into direct contact. I warned Mrs. Spinelli of the exorbitant price of Prozac for a dog of Tina's size, but she dismissed this concern with a wave of her hand and gave Teddy a knowing sideways glance. It was at about this time that I noticed the fine clothes Mrs. Spinelli was wearing and the huge, stunning ruby that she sported on her wedding finger.

"I will do whatever you suggest, Dr. Dodman. If the word is Prozac, so be it. These dogs are my family and I will spare no expense to resolve this problem."

As we prepared to leave, I asked Mrs. Spinelli whether she would be able to go through with the treatment program, and with a broad smile she informed me that there was basically nothing that she couldn't do if she put her mind to it. This was a refreshing prospect for me, to find a client who understood everything I had said, and was determined to see it through. Also, it was good that she could afford top-of-the-line treatment, since many of my clients cannot afford expensive medication and their pets do not qualify for drug insurance. I must admit I felt reasonably optimistic at that time that she would succeed in her quest.

Copyright © 2002 Nicholas Dodman. All rights reserved.