By Steve Markwell , Founder of Olympic Animal Sanctuary Photos courtesy of Olympic Animal Sanctuary
When Leroy escaped his pen at a boarding kennel and nearly ripped a dachshund in half, the owner of the facility wanted him dead. Even though the attack was a direct result of her failure to contain a 'red-nosed pit bull' with an unknown history apart from tell-tale scars indicating dog fighting, Leroy was the one held responsible"”a "vicious, aggressive, bad dog." Fortunately for him, his rescuers weren't willing to write him off so quickly.
Animals First Foundation, the rescue that had placed Leroy in the boarding facility, is unlike many other animal welfare organizations in that when they rescue a dog, killing that animal later when things become difficult isn't an option. AFF paid the medical bill for the dachshund and removed Leroy from the boarding kennel, but they had no intention of killing him. Leroy moved in with a "canine aggression expert," where he endured daily training sessions involving flooding and positive punishment to break him of his dog-aggression.
These are techniques with which you might be familiar, because you've probably seen them on TV. Positive punishment is the introduction of an unfavorable stimulus for the purpose of preventing a behavior from being repeated: choking, hitting, spraying with water, throwing car keys at the animal, shouting, and physically dominating the animal are all examples.
Positive punishment can get quick results, which is why it makes good TV, but its long-term efficacy is minimal, and it often worsens problem behaviors by attaching additional, negative associations to the triggering stimulus; in plain English, the dog who is afraid of other dogs now has even more reason to fear them because he gets choked and scolded every time he sees one. And perhaps that's why, despite its resurgence in popular culture courtesy of hack dog trainers and slick television personalities, positive punishment is frowned upon by the legitimate animal behavior and animal welfare communities.
Flooding is held in low regard as well; it's the technique of bombarding the animal with the stimulus that triggers the behavior you're trying to change, in the hope that in being so overwhelmed, the animal will no longer react; for example, if you were afraid of snakes, you might be locked in a room full of them until you no longer found them frightening. That might work"”or you might have a heart attack and die.
Unfortunately for Leroy, the "expert" who worked with him was all too happy to employ outmoded, outdated dangerous techniques in her attempt to modify his behavior. He was housed in a shed, kenneled next to several other dogs, exposed to dogs throughout the day, and 'corrected' with a jerk on the leash whenever he stepped out of line. He was dominated, controlled, bullied.
Several days into his 'rehabilitation', Leroy lunged at another dog, and when the expert jerked on his leash to "correct" him, he turned on her. This expert has appeared on television to promote her skill and knowledge of dangerous dog behavior, so she should have been equipped to deal with Leroy's attempt to bite her, but even though she wasn't harmed, the incident was enough to make her call AFF and demand that he be executed immediately. She gave them 24 hours to remove him from her property.
With time running out and nowhere else to turn, they found me. I'm the founder and executive director of Olympic Animal Sanctuary in Forks, Washington. You may have heard of us: We save dogs you'd rather see dead. We save dogs that send people to the emergency room, dogs that kill livestock fighting dogs like Leroy. Some experts don't like what we do, and if they ask me to I'll gladly suggest a receptacle for their expert opinions.
You might have heard of some of our dogs: Snaps, the "pit bull" who mauled two women in SeaTac, WA on the command of his handler, a 15-year-old girl; Rocky and April, two trained fighting dogs that killed a calf in Columbia County, OR; Rogue, a Siberian husky who made headlines in Cass County, MI after killing another dog. You probably haven't heard of Brinks, a coonhound who sent rescue workers to the emergency room in Marietta, GA; Max, a miniature pinscher who bit off his owner's lip; Bogart, a Rottweiler/coonhound/Shar-Pei so scary an entire rescue group in eastern Washington tried to force their director to kill him. In light of the other dogs that call the Sanctuary home, it appeared that Leroy would fit right in.
I brought Leroy to Forks, put him on a natural, raw diet, and kept him away from other dogs for a while. I assessed his behavior cautiously over a period of weeks, not minutes, and found that his desire to attack was a result of his training"”he fought with others dogs to please his caregiver. Even after he redirected his attack onto me one afternoon, sinking a fang into my chest and between my ribs, he happily awaited a reward from me at the end of the ordeal. It's a bit spooky to think that Leroy would try to kill me in order to please me, but under the right circumstances, that's exactly the case, and I have an itchy, keloidal scar on my chest to remind me of the seriousness of the situation.
So maybe Leroy is a monster, but someone made him that way. It's my job to help him become a dog again. I have my work cut out for me.
What amount of progress Leroy will make remains uncertain; my only goal for him is the same one I have for every dog"”that he be healthy, happy, and safe. That doesn't mean I give up on rehab, but I don't have a deadline and a set of arbitrary criteria he needs to meet. A sanctuary is a permanent home, and here, we have the luxury of time when it comes to transforming our dogs' behavior; since Leroy's not going anywhere, what improvements he makes are purely for his own benefit, not for anyone else's. I'd like for Leroy to someday enjoy the benefits of socialization with his own species"”in a highly controlled situation, of course"”but I don't know how long it might be before that happens.
Instead of flooding, I use systematic desensitization, a much slower, more methodical process with fewer risks and more predictable results. At the moment, Leroy meets other dogs several times a day for a few seconds at a time; eventually he may be kenneled next to another dog during his downtime if it doesn't cause him undue stress. Someday he may go for walks with a second dog, if he can handle it. I'm not certain when that day will be. What is certain is that Leroy will be loved, treated gently and kindly, never punished, dominated, or controlled. No 'expert' will have the opportunity to torment him, and killing him because of his behavior will never be an option.
Society and culture are defined largely by the things that are cherished and those things that are so readily thrown away. And perhaps the treatment of American dogs is one of the clearest indicators of the kind of people we Americans are. I like to think that even though some would call Leroy 'aggressive', 'vicious', a 'bad dog', and cry out for his destruction, you would see him the way I do"”a beautiful dog with an ugly past; a good dog with special needs; a fellow American citizen deserving of love and respect. Of course, if you don't see him that way, if I'm being foolishly idealistic and you'd rather see Leroy dead, you'll have to go through me first. I'm ready for you.
For more information or to contact: Steve Markwell Olympic Animal Sanctuary 1021 Russell Rd Forks, WA 98331 (360) 320-6596 email:
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