Idle privilege

Tags

canine history, coppinger, pet life, sparcs2014

The dogs get to be lazy when I’m not.

I’ve been ruminating lately on how good lives take hard work. Some labors are more visible than others, which doesn’t make them inherently more or less valuable, just different.

During SPARCS2014, Ray Coppinger spoke of how he finds it cruel and freakish to reduce dogs, with their evolutionary history as working animals, to the lazy lifestyles of modern pethood. When you take the “work” away from the working dog, the drive always remains, as a matter of biological coding. Apparently, there’s no such thing as true retirement either when your existence is valued on the basis of your work. Even Coppinger has remained awfully busy as an emeritus professor. Yet I’m keenly aware of his age and accompanying stature because I don’t think he’s allowed his thinking to change much in light of emerging research, scientific and historical.

As the meaning of “work” has changed over the course of anthropological history, we need to rethink canine labors within the context of cynological history, too. I’m not arguing that human or canine laziness is actually laborious, or anything nonsensical like that. But I must acknowledge the complexity of human-animal relationships by admitting that dogs’ roles are at least as versatile as the human conditions to which they are attached.

As I currently work largely from home or outside in spaces where dogs are not free to enter, pet inactivity is necessary to enable this kind of productivity, which does end up mutually beneficial. My lifestyle, my worklife — similar to that of many people the world over — is compatible with the comfortable idle of these dogs. I rest assured that the Bows are equipped to age, change, and adapt to these pet roles, just as so much of canine-human evolutionary history has been about how these two social species develop in accordance to each other.

Looking forward at day’s end

Tags

dog parks, off leash, sunset

I finally snapped a picture that I like enough to place as a new blog header. When I first activated this WordPress theme [Chateau], I don’t think there was an option to randomize header photos. Now that I know there is such a function, this is one I’m throwing into the mix:

Confession: This shot was taken at one of our most frequented parks, in an area currently under contest. After years of trouble-free use, the commission in charge has decided to act on seemingly arbitrary grounds and declare this specific area a leashed zone.

This came as a surprise to the vast majority of canine-accompanied visitors who, like me, have always found it an off leash area.

After numerous meetings both public and private, new signage, vandalized signage, posted bulletins, letter writing campaigns, Facebook quibbling, and some of the typical sniping that accompanies dog-centric kerfluffles, consensus seems to be carry on in a respectful manner. The park has no power to enforce its own policies, let alone maintain the grounds in accordance with the original guidelines they laid out decades ago for the use of this off-leash area.

We at the House of Two Bows advocate healthy, safe, and responsible sharing of public grounds. This includes abiding by posted leash laws, learning to share with other patrons who are there to respect and enjoy the environment …

… and also recognizing that sometimes, the pathways formed by the habits of hundreds of thousands of human and canine footsteps really do make more sense than the rigid boundaries drawn by a few forgotten rulemakers.

Such is the “natural” evolution of public, community space.

Drama-free Dremelling and ‘spoiled’ dogs

Tags

dremel, grooming, nail trimming, quirks

Bowpi is an angel about getting her nails filed by Dremel. She’s easy to physically manipulate, and will just flop into my lap like a sack of sand during the process.

Yes, note the pouch of Fruitables treats nearby. I spent several weeks warming up both Bows to the Dremel after I first got it, conditioning them to associate the sound of the motor with treats, then working them up to the whirring file making contact with their toes. I don’t consider the food a bribe; it’s a mood enhancer, putting them in an agreeable state so I can do things that would otherwise irritate or freak them out.

Bowdu is a different matter. Even though he comes running for handouts at the sound of the Dremel, he does not like to be held, nor does he typically like his paws to be handled, especially with purpose. A groomer back in Taiwan traumatized him on this one. She did nail trimmings for about $3, and routinely cut into the quick, calling it “normal” part of the process. Well, after seeing his face streaked with blood because he was frantically trying to paw off the grooming loop with his damaged nails, we put an end to that.

After that, he got downright violent about any attempts to trim his nails, even at home. I basically gave up… until I got the Dremel.

I found that he is relaxed and non-reactive when sitting in one of his favorite places — the car. So that’s where I do his nails, and it works out beautifully for both of us. I just pack up the Dremel for our regular outings, and take care of it after he’s been thoroughly chilled by a nice long walk.

Once, a passerby commented on my “spoiled dog” getting manicured in the parking lot. He said it lightheartedly, probably a joke because it seemed an odd place for the occasion, and I must have looked a little ridiculous, crouched in the leg area of the passenger-side front seat while Bowdu perched like a champ above, patient paw in my hand.

But I was annoyed by the assumption that I was doing something excessive for Bowdu, and therefore “spoiling” him. (My parents, who don’t understand my relationship to the dogs, frequently use that term too.) How is this radical notion that working with our animals, in full consideration of their history and their feelings, an act of “spoiling”? Knowing his trauma, I meet him on his terms. That’s just basic consideration out of my sense of responsibility to him, acknowledging his capacity to express fear, personal preferences, and trust.

From that day on, I’ve been making a conscious effort to excise that term from my vocabulary, because I don’t see my pets in terms of wasted resources. I’d rather have our “spoiled” relationship where we can relish our mutual excesses, instead of a “normative” relationship, contained and impoverished.

Roll of 28, Day 23: Too much acreage for one panorama

Tags

canine body language, dog parks, roll of 28

click for full-size image

I was catching up on one of my favorite dog blogs, Do You Believe in Dog, because the most recent post on dog park aggression caught my eye.

An excerpt from Julie Hecht’s post:

For dog owners, “aggression” doesn’t have to be this strange, unknown, out-of-the-blue thing. You don’t have to wait until your hand is bitten to learn about aggression. Heck, we could even argue that we learn less about aggression and conflict through actual experience. Ever hear anybody say: “OOOOoh! Now I get it! I now clearly see all the things that led up to that dog biting that other dog’s ear off. I will certainly not miss it next time”? To an untrained eye, witnessing conflict is usually very upsetting and scary, not something where you walk away with a deeper understanding of what actually went down or how it could have been avoided.

One reason I continue to advocate for the idea of dog parks, if not always the execution or the actual construction (cf. The Dog parks we don’t go to anymore) is because in an increasingly leashed world, dog parks are sites where I, as an average, conscientious dog owner, have learned much about both canine behavior and human social behavior as related to dog responsibility. The latter is the subject of an article by sociologist Patrick Jackson, “Situated activities in a dog park,” Society and Animals 20 (2012): 254-272. The article is also the target of some ire from The Science Dog, who reviewed it in depth.

I don’t have a lot of time to go into details at the moment, and I have yet to read the original article. At any rate, the professional reactions to the article and some of the follow-up responses are provocative to me. For one thing, I’m disappointed that articles like Jackson’s, based on case studies or anecdotal experience (which is also always regionally and culturally delimited), are often used to reinforce broad anti-dog park biases, especially when it’s very difficult to cast any incidences of “aggression” in a positive light. Secondly, when I peep in on conversations about dog parks, I am often struck by how people aren’t even talking about the same type of space; dog parks are as varied as parks in general. Hell, even I can’t claim consistency with what I call a dog park, as I could apply the same word to a variety of spaces within my own county — from the unfenced, multi-acre terrains as pictured above in today’s Roll of 28 post, to narrow concrete runs underneath noisy freeway bridges, to mulched and landscaped yet still claustrophobic, contained plots of land in the middle of a residential neighborhood.

Third, I often wish there was a better way to steer humans towards individual responsibility and education, instead of automatically presenting dog parks as spaces where ignorance inevitably breeds. That’s why I appreciated Do You Believe in Dog’s perspective. As indicated in the above quote, if humans are as much the problem as their dogs (if not more!), then human training is necessarily in order. Fittingly, they include a good stash of links on reading canine behavior towards the bottom of the post (as they include carefully selected resources with every post — one of the reasons this is one of my favorite dog blogs).

Though it sounds like Jackson was a bit too impartial in his ethnographic analysis to make room for much agency in dog park human behavior, I will credit his statement that canine behavior “may only be gained through experience.” That is, if such “experience” includes coupling retrospective assessments of aggressive incidences along with active engagement in observing and understanding dog behavior. One can, I believe, reflect back and anticipate forward progress at the same time, specifically when it comes to learning more about how to live with our own dogs.

Waiting, watching

Tags

anthropomorphism, canine body language

Sort of related to my previous post on the communicative range of canine bodies —

I’m not denying the natural urge to anthropomorphize and to read, sometimes with great clarity, the emotional status of a dog through his head alone.

It’s just that this is where we, as humans, typically refer when trying to interpret meaning. The eyes, in particular, are where we look in the absence of speech. Great communicators will often pick up additional facial cues, because words are frequently insufficient on their own.

Perhaps we could all be more empathetic towards our own kind if we were given license to stare, because humans also express a lot with our entire bodies. The purpose of observation is not to chart a strict anatomical glossary, or learn how to read every twitch and turn “correctly.” Rather, the process itself would teach us to appreciate how meticulously we must consider our subject before we really get to know them. When you watch another long enough, even the slightest changes in posture, the slope and curve of a turned back, can tell you so much that language cannot… and that level of communication is simply amazing.

But the feelings behind these physical cues might be expressed quite differently by another creature. So you have to constantly recalibrate, figure out again just what you’re looking at or for.

Even if you can’t articulate the precise significance, it’s important to recognize when change, even a subtle shift, has happened before your eyes. Truly, no storm comes out of the blue.

Sneaky pet store proprietors

Tags

animal law, linjiang street tonghua night market, pet stores, puppies, shiba inu, taiwan, taiwan dogs

I currently live in Taipei by the Linjiang/Tonghua Night Market 臨江街通化夜市. On nearby Keelung Rd. 基隆路 is a concentrated strip of pet stores where the animal wares line up against the windows for a couple blocks.

I pass through the area frequently. And out of some semi-anthropological impulse and my longing for the Bows, I’ll often linger. I scan the windows and take note of presentation, cleanliness, apparent health and vigor of the puppies and kittens, etc.

Toy poodles, Corgis, Pomeranians, Chihuahuas, Mini Schnauzers, Pugs, Maltese, Shih Tzu, and Dachshunds are in — as they were, when I last lived here. I see fewer large breeds in the pet stores, thank goodness, but many can produce Lab, Golden Retriever, and Siberian Huskies on call, if not in the display windows. What seems relatively new to me is the popularity of French Bulldogs, a minor surprise because I can only imagine how brachycephalic breeds suffer in this heat.

And of course, every pet store has Shiba Inu.

Sometimes, I stand in front of Shiba windows and try to re-imagine that swell of desire that made us pick Bowdu out from the pile. This is not to tempt myself anew with another Bad Idea. Rather, I’m trying to identify that first spark of emotion that results in these puppies getting sold — as they do, day in, day out.

My feelings are far too mixed now to just succumb to innocent surrender, given what I’ve learned over the years. Yet, I do remember the lift of total transport, the moment you hold one of those puppies. And before the customer has the time to disperse those happypuppyclouds and think things through rationally, they’ve bought that wriggly ball of responsibility…

And so it happened to the brother of that Shiba pair born July 11th, pictured above, playing with one of the pet store clerks. Two days later, I passed by the same pet store and noticed that only the sister was left, and a pug had been plopped into the missing Shiba’s place. Even curiouser, the date of birth had been changed in a pretty half-assed manner, with a single line added to make it look like the birthdate was July 4th, a whole week earlier. That means on August 18th, when the second picture was taken, the Shibas were just a few days over six weeks old, if the latter date is to believed. If the first date was right, the first Shiba was just a few days over five weeks old when he was sold.

Either way, those Shiba pups were way too young to be taken home, and the fact that the pet store proprietor changed the birthdate on the window indicates that they knew and were trying to fudge perceptions. Not that there are any firm laws in Taiwan against the sale of young pups, as in some parts of the US. In Taiwan, pet retailer laws only stipulate that the animals should already be weaned, and have not been determined to carry any communicable diseases or illness that makes them unsuitable for sale at the time.

I’d be surprised if anyone’s actually been fined for selling underaged puppies. Chances are that the Shiba puppy didn’t die the next day (and if he did, he would have been speedily replaced by yet another underaged Shiba). The people got what they wanted, and all is, hopefully, well. Dogs are pretty hardy creatures, even the ones born and raised under less than ideal circumstances. But it’s precisely because these lives are so easy to produce that I feel like we have the responsibility to protect their fecundity.

And yes, sometimes that “protection” is rendered through reproductive control. More words about that some other time.

One last bit that I thought was interesting…

After the Shiba sister was also sold, this is the pair that replaced them in the window. They are advertised as “mixed blood” 混血 pups — combining Chinese 中 (Taiwanese) and Japanese 日 lines. What they’re emphasizing is the presumed authenticity of import lineage. Mostly I’m just amused by the idea that the dogs themselves possess nationality, such that the breeding combination results in a “mix” that nobody can see anyway.

“Typically” aloof breed temperament does not excuse puppy fearfulness

Tags

basenji, breeders, fear, fearful dogs, puppies, shiba inu, socialization

About five months ago, I was invited to meet a local breeder’s litter of six-week-old, tri-colored Basenji puppies. None of the puppies were for me, and I was not on the waiting list. The breeder, whom I had gotten to know on the Basenji Forums, aimed to socialize the pups with as many visitors as possible, and was willing to let me sample the Basenji puppyhood that I had missed since Bowpi came to us as an adult from unknown sources.

one with a flipped-up ear is hiding in the middle

It was all I could do to contain my girlish squeals and tears of delight when all six puppies came marching up to greet me at the baby gated foyer. Though I was eager to dive into that puppy pit, entering the home was a challenge with the black swarm underfoot. It was like tiptoeing through bouncing water balloons! Popping a puppy right at the outset would surely have made a bad first impression. I know I made at least one squeak as I gingerly waded through the living room into the open backyard.

Apparently I was forgiven because they were still willing to play with me. Or maybe I was being punished for the offense with puppy fangs. At any rate, they bit and chewed me, the toy I brought, the backyard plants, and each other without compunction. I still trail a few shredded threads from the clothes I wore that day as a souvenir.

There’s no mistaking the fact that these are mouthy puppies, and that they explore the world with their teeth!

Momma and auntie (not father) were both on the premises to correct them as necessary. I got the sense that this was a constant, exhausting task…

These puppies might have added a few extra wrinkles to her brow… and they’re not even hers!

For all my idealism about how responsible breeders should be breeding, raising, placing, and following through with their puppies, this was the first time I’d met a litter that, in my opinion, was being done “right.” We chatted for a good portion of the afternoon about puppies, the breed, and more, until the entire litter was knocked senseless by our blather.

One thing that left an impression on me was how eager every puppy was to see who was at the door. When the breeder and I talked about this, she made an astute point that the Basenji reputation for being “independent” and “aloof” applies to mature adults — not developing puppies. An aloof adult raises little concern, but puppies should be sociable, curious, and brimming with confidence to accept new experiences. They weren’t necessarily ready to climb into my lap and would sooner chew than cuddle me, but they were evidently unfazed by my presence and ready to engage.

All this resonated with me, especially since these descriptors — aloof, independent, standoffish, not cuddly, etc. — have commonly been used to describe, and excuse, Shibas for being Shibas. It made me recall how we selected Bowdu in the first place. Of all the puppies in the bin, he was the only one sitting apart and watching from a corner. He didn’t appear fearful, but he had no interest in joining the puppy games; when a Golden pup tumbled into his corner, Bowdu nonchalantly extended a paw to hold the pup out of his space.

And we laughed and were charmed and chose him.

The night we brought Bowdu home and put him on the floor of the apartment, it took a brief moment to register that his environment had completely changed from the busy night market that he had known. Then he shuffled underneath the nearest desk and started whimpering. He couldn’t be coaxed out, so after a while, I gently pulled him out… He never tried to hide from us again, and seemed to forget his initial fears, though we would continue to deal with fear-based behaviors for a long, long time.

I doubt Bowdu was well socialized by his breeder or broker, and we didn’t do enough to bombproof him as a puppy. He’s fine now. But for months, and years even, I often excused his quirks as somehow related to either breed temperament or our misanthropic personalities, as his guardians. Oh, he shies away from strangers on the street because he’s being “reserved,” and that gives me an excuse to avoid people, too. He’s cowering from the constant stream of passing scooters because Shibas are highly alert and “sensitive,” and I wouldn’t want him to get too close anyway! He’s frantic and pulling on walks because he’s “stubborn” and “independent-minded” and wants to chart his own course home, even though he has a butt full of poop that should be eliminated outdoors, not on paper.

In my ignorance of dog behavior, my interpretation of those key adjectives in no way matched the spirit by which Shibas are often described. Or Basenjis, for that matter! There were details about Bowdu’s puppy behavior that were really not okay, in retrospect, but my misapplication of supposed breed temperament allowed me to mask, and worse yet, normalize certain kinds of anti-social behavior that really don’t befit the breed.

Bottom line is that my misinterpretation of those terms did not benefit my dog as an individual, over the course of his development.

There have been so many times on my dog forums (moreso Shibas than Basenjis) where someone’s fearful, aloof, non-cuddly puppy behavior is dismissed as somehow “typical” of the breed. Sometimes it’s a new dog owner having to face the crushing disappointment that they’re really not the center of their puppy’s world, and that’s part of the reality of owning a “primitive” breed. Yet other times, behaviors like hiding, running away in fear, a general listlessness and dullness to stimuli are excused as “typical” breed traits by well-intentioned folks who are just trying to reassure the confused dog owner that they did get what they signed on for.

However, so often the conversation is about puppies that have been home for days or just weeks, who haven’t even been alive long enough to develop personal preferences, let alone show stable breed proclivities! They’re still growing into the world. New owners are still learning to observe and describe them as individuals, not against everything they’ve researched about the breed (if at all). Puppies don’t consult the breed manual. And even the stablest pup from the most temperamentally sound parents can develop a mind of her own as an adult; indeed, “independent” is so vague a term here as to be useless.

What I’m saying is that a fearful, dull puppy is not necessarily a final judgment on the breeder, nor does this alone limit the dog’s potential to live up to breed hype. But having now met an entire litter of pups that seemed so alert, resilient, emboldened by adventure, and downright youthful, I am reminded of how childhood and adulthood are fairly demarcated developmental categories. Perhaps it is our anthropomorphic tendency to conflate the two. If so, that is our folly, and the child’s loss — of any animal species.

Alexandra Horowitz, canine souls, and the alchemy of anthropomorphism

Tags

alexandra horowitz, anthropomorphism, canine cognition, canine history, canine intelligence, immortality

Two hours before showtime, I happened to catch a poster for Alexandra Horowitz‘s lecture entitled “Considering Dogs,” part of the long-running Foerster lecture series on the Immortality of the Soul. Knowing a bit about the Horowitz Dog Cognition Lab, I was eager to be in attendance, but I was all the more piqued to see how she might direct her talk towards the nominal demands of the lecture series. Dogs, after all, have typically been excluded from official entry into soulfulness…

The posted blurb was brief:

“Considering Dogs,” with Alexandra Horowitz, Associate Professor in Psychology, Barnard College

Domestic dogs, Canis familiaris, have insinuated themselves into our society and imagination: long present in our art and narratives, they are now ubiquitous in American homes. I will discuss the dog’s historical and contemporary role, attributions typically made to dogs, and an alternative empirical approach to considering dogs.

Horowitz began by laying out the history of this spiritual, ethical, and philosophical paradox, then carefully rerouted the topic back towards her own canine-centric research. Noting the anthropomorphic tendency to ask “people questions” of dogs, Horowitz gently lay aside the issue of whether or not dogs have souls by arguing that souls are not relevant to dogs by virtue of their dogness. It is the human that has invested value in immortality, which in part produced the very conception of soul, whether or not the soul’s existence transcends the linguistic discourse that has so long endeavored to capture it. Canine concerns, though closely aligned to those of their human companions, take on a vocabulary and experiential distinction unto their own; “soul” may very well be a meaningless term to a dog.

Not that she advocates rejecting anthropomorphism altogether, as this is a fundamental aspect of how we humans engage with the world. However, the task is ours to deconstruct our anthropomorphisms and question why our attributions persist, when (and whom) they help, how they may be harmful, and what types of animal understanding they may obstruct. Walking the audience through various examples, Horowitz showed how anthropomorphisms have historically worked to pervert, divert, and subvert animal natures through misapplications of human values and cognitive systems. There are very real consequences — often with violent and gruesome outcomes — that we humans must be mindful of when we give consideration to species other than our own.

As to the question of animal immortality, Horowitz had a rather moving conclusion that I found myself implicitly agreeing with, having thought about it in similar terms. Dogs, by biological nature, account for just a fraction of their human companions’ lives. Immortality, defined as a sense of endurance beyond corporeality or virtual deathlessness, can be achieved by the means in which humans cannot help but to memorialize and commemorate the dearly departed canines. Whether or not dogs possess “souls,” the very real ways in which humans continue to endow their pets’ lives with meaning beyond death grants them the very kind of immortality that we ourselves desire.

In that sense, anthropomorphism does not always obstruct us from giving full recognition to the animality of the creature before us. At its best, anthropomorphism can also serve as a kind of alchemy of love, vitalizing and transfiguring both the canine and the human.

My summary is really not adequate to the depth of her presentation. The whole talk was recorded and will eventually be posted on the website for the Graduate Council Lectures. Check this link in the future for video availability:
http://grad.berkeley.edu/lectures/event.php?id=765&lecturer=496

[EDIT: Audio file now available at above link; no video.]

Roll of 28, Day Twenty-six: Red and agile

Tags

dog parks, rhodesian ridgeback, rhodesian ridgebacks, vizsla

Ridgebacks and Vizsla are slightly similar in appearance, especially when blowing by in a rust-colored blur, but very different in terms of build, movement, and temperament. Watching this pair at play crystallized what I’ve come to think about the two breeds. The Vizsla was constantly airborne as if propelled by nervous electricity, whereas the Ridgeback seemed more elemental, sweeping the field like brush fire.

This Ridgeback is one of the dog park regulars that has me crushing on this breed. Perhaps someday when I, too, am more anchored and earth-bound…

Alternate picture of the day: A moron (completely unrelated to either of the pictured dogs) who sullied the otherwise beautiful late afternoon aura with his child, his feisty dog of much-maligned type, and his own bullying behavior. For some reason, this man thought his kid riding what he called a “tricycle,” or rather, a bicycle with training wheels was exempt from the “No Bikes” signs prominently displayed at every entrance to the dog park. Not only could he not count nor understand the rule was actually in place for the safety of his own child, he tried to shift responsibility onto another dog owner when his Baby Knievel activated her dogs’ prey drives, and his own dog leapt into the fray — fortunately, leaving the child untouched. It took a lot of bellowing and eventually, physical intervention for him to get his unneutered dog under check; the dog’s audible yelp when forced repeatedly into a down position (he would not stay) carried halfway across the park, from where I watched with both Bows safely at my side. Mr. Caveman then lit into the woman with a barrage of obscene and gender-specific insults that far exceeded the sonic boundaries of a civil conversation or any other limits of propriety. That’s when my inner paparazzi compelled me to snap a few distant pictures, for fear of the situation escalating to blows. Instead, she took the high road and led her leashed dogs away, even as he continued to hurl abuse in a last ditch attempt to appear mighty and right.

So I thought about using one of the pictures of this incident for today’s Roll of 28. Such an exhibit in public shaming wouldn’t have violated my personal rule of saying only good things when sharing pictures of other people’s dogs because my contempt is directed at the dog’s owner. But ultimately, I decided that I prefer to preserve more pleasant photomemories with my Roll of 28 project. Anecdote and image remain separate here. I am recording this incident to vent my frustration that such jerks dare to invade my idyllic canine community and must also inhabit my world. However, when I page back through this specific picture gallery in the future, what will be more immediate to eye and memory will be the image of these two happy, beautiful, sociable dogs, and not the asshole who threatened to ruin it all.

Hitting a RAW nerve

Tags

bad journalism, bravo pet food, dehydrated dog food, dog food, dogswell, freeze-dried raw, grandma lucy's, honest kitchen, minneapolis, nutrisca, primal raw, raw diet, salmonella, sojos, st. paul, stella and chewy's, twin cities, veterinary nutrition

On the Shiba Inu Forum, Nicole/Saya pointed out a recent news story on commercial raw dog food. Coming out of WCCO in Minneapolis, Jamie Yuccas reports on “Pros & Cons To The Raw Pet Food Diet: Is It Worth It?” Interviewed were Liz Cummiskey of a Twin Cities-based holistic pet food store, Woody’s Pet Food Deli, Dr. Julie Churchill from the department of Veterinary Clinical Nutrition at the University of Minnesota, and a pug owner rather condescendingly described as a “believer” of raw diets. Crudely polarizing the salespeople against the scientists, the report basically gave Dr. Churchill the last word, coming down against raw diets by ridiculing the costs, hyping potential risks, and dismissing anecdotal claims made by proponents.

Now, I understand that personal observations only go so far, and there are very compelling reasons for many pet owners to not feed raw. However, it drives me batty when journalists fall back on any type of authority without properly contextualizing what is presented as fact, just focusing on who says what they want to use as news. This is true in any venue in which “expert” testimony is solicited, but even more frustrating when it comes to scientific reporting in mainstream media — precisely because I’m not a scientist and need others to filter information for me in an accountable manner.

This is exactly what we expect journalists to do, so it’s maddening when the task is carried out so sloppily. Take, for example, the presentation of this “factoid” from the news report:

In a recent University of Minnesota study, the department looked at 60 raw meat diets available at stores in the Twin Cities. Seven percent of them tested positive for salmonella.

All sorts of alarms clang when I read statistics framed in such a vague context. First of all, the University of Minnesota is a large research university with many departments — which department conducted the study? What is the title of the report? Where was it published? Who funded it? How did they select the samples for testing? What brands? How did they handle the samples? Did they bother trying to trace the source of the contamination, or is the mere presence of Salmonella meant to be damning in and of itself?

Curious about details, I looked up the study. Not too hard to find, though it would have been nice if the report had been cited to begin with.

• Mehlenbacher, Shelley, Julie Churchill, et. al, “Availability, Brands, Labelling and Salmonella Contamination of Raw Pet Food in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Area,” Zoonoses Public Health 59.7 (November 2012):513-20.
  Abstract at http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22551080

The study looked at 60 different types of raw dog food from eleven different unnamed brands, including frozen, dehydrated, and freeze-dried varieties. Five unnamed kibble brands were tested as well. Though the samples were anonymized, a table was included comparing the first five ingredients, so it’s not too difficult to figure out that they appear to have sampled all the major, nationally-available brands, and probably some regional ones that I’m not familiar with.

The way that the study is being used to foment paranoia about raw dog food is problematic to me. Here are a couple details that I find interesting enough to highlight:

“The 2010 Food Safety and Inspection Service progress report on Salmonella testing of raw meat and poultry products sold in retail stores indicated the Salmonella prevalence was 18.8% in ground chicken, 10.2% in ground turkey, 6.7% in broiler chickens, 4.6% in turkeys, 2.4% in market hogs and 2.2% in ground beef (United States Department of Agriculture Food Safety and Inspection Service, 2010). A 2009 Consumer Reports study indicated that the prevalence of Salmonella contamination between store-bought organic and non-organic brands was similar and ranged from 6% to 29% (Consumer Reports, 2010).” (p. 514)

In other words, by their own review of findings, the presence of Salmonella in 7% (four out of 60 samples) of commercially available raw dog foods falls within the low end of the TYPICAL amount of Salmonella found in grocery store meat fed for human consumption. If this information is remarkable at all, it should be pointed out that this is actually on the low side of the spectrum, especially given the conditions under which the meat was prepped for this study.

See, here’s the funniest segment to me (because I always go to public health journals for light comedy…):

“Products were purchased, placed in a cooler and transported to the University of Minnesota and stored according to package instructions until processed. For [lab] processing, frozen diets were thawed at room temperature in original packaging for 12–16 h.” (p. 515, emphasis mine)

Wait, what? This was allowed to pass as appropriate procedure? You know, a long time ago, I worked at a food safety testing laboratory… No doubt the lab’s clients, which included several national restaurant chains, would have terminated their contracts and charged us with rigging the results if we had thawed their frozen hamburger patties by this protocol!

Now, I understand that the study is geared in part towards their final recommendation that proper handling guidelines need to be added to raw pet food packages. But honestly, that information is just as accessible as how to handle raw meat for human consumption. Is a consumer safety sticker saying “HEY! RAW MEAT IS RAW!” really going to protect the clueless??

When I thaw frozen meat for myself or for the dogs, I know to do it overnight in the refrigerator, or not more than a couple hours at room temperature and ideally submerged in cold water. Perhaps I am being too generous in assuming this is basic information that any cook already knows. It seems, however, that this study was designed by someone playing dumb in order to promote the growth of all sorts of icky germs…

Thus, it’s no surprise to me that the four samples that DID test positive for Salmonella were indeed frozen raw products, which were thawed out using the process described above. “It was interesting to note,” the report reads, “that Salmonella was not recovered from the processed samples, perhaps warranting further research into the use of processing methods such as HPP or freeze-drying for the prevention of bacterial contamination” (p. 518). Let me put it another way: it’s interesting to note just how safe raw dog food may actually be if properly handled in the first place, because the way I see it, the problem isn’t with the diet itself, but the way the researchers prepped it for the purposes of conforming to their own agenda.

A note to future veterinary nutritionists designing and writing up these types of studies: You might do better negotiating the “belief structures surrounding this practice” (p. 514) of raw feeding if you started by acknowledging the existence of your own. When experiments seem designed, for example, to suggest that raw feeders are idiots, it’s no wonder they provoke an irate, defensive response…