Category: Common Problems ¤ Author: Shirley Chong ¤ Title: Do Dogs Feel Guilt? ¤ Mary Margaret (no last name?) said: So on the second day home from the shelter I noticed her slinking guiltily down the hall, tail between legs, with the odd furtive glance behind at me to see if I'm going to yell at her. It took me a while to even figure out what the problem was--we'd made several rooms off- limits right from the start, and being the gentle well-behaved dog she is, she understood right away. In fact, she extrapolated to a room which I hadn't even thought of (but which logically fit with the other banned rooms, being in the same part of the hall.) So when I saw her coming out of that room she decided she was going to get in trouble for it, even though I hadn't thought of that room as off limits and wouldn't have cared that she wanted to go inthere. Mary Margaret, there's a sadder explanation for the way she acted than that she self-induces guilt. I've done a lot of rescue (have fostered over 40 dogs in my own home, plus have owned 11 dogs and have taken care of several other dogs for prolonged periods of time). Both deliberate deception and guilt pre-suppose a moral system in place. NORMAL, mature human beings feel bad when they lie even if there isn't the remotest chance of being caught, because as human beings we have decided that dishonesty is, in and of itself, a Bad Thing. The punishment for transgressing our moral code comes from within us--and that is what guilt is! Guilt (this is simplying greatly and not very accurate) is the conscious awareness of having transgressed and it is not connected to the actions of anyone else. If I were on a deserted street at 3 AM, not a person in sight, and picked up a $100 bill with no intention of trying to find the rightful owner, I would feel guilty--even if no one saw me pick it up, even if there was no way I would ever be caught. It is enough for ME to know I have done the wrong thing. Dogs don't share this moral code. They don't feel "guilt." They feel afraid of a punishment to come when they get caught--but if they aren't caught and don't think they will be, they don't act "guilty." I've spied on Bidge gleefully consuming Kleenex too many times to think that HE feels it's wrong. He feels it's great--he's on his own personal cancer prevention program (high fibre diet). He knows that - I- don't want him to eat Kleenex (it's a very expensive snack and could be bad for him in the amounts he would like to eat it). So if he thinks I've figured it out or am about to catch him, he acts "guilty." It's not truly guilt--it's fear that I'm about to punish him (which I did in my pre-clicker days) and fear that I'm about to take his cherished treat away from him (he thinks he's starving). So how does this fit with your dog? Rather than guilt, let me suggest that in her past she has had MOST unpleasant consequences that happened after a human being suddenly discovered her presence. Dogs react to our body language because it acts as a predictor for what we are about to do next. If you wanted to, you could teach a dog that frowning, stomping around, angry voice all mean that you are about to produce the most wonderful treat in the world. Believe me, I've counterconditioned enough dogs to know that this is true. When Chamois came to me, "Bad dog!" elicited extreme displays of fear and aggression. It's not that I EVER say that to my own dogs, but I had to countercondition it because its something she could hear from others. So, I counterconditioned it and when I say "bad rotten evil horrible dog shouldn't be allowed!!!" her eyes gleam and her feet start doing the Terv dance of happy anticipation (I started out by simply counterconditioning "Bad dog!" but once that was done and I had comprehended the range of mischief one little puppy could wreak on my poor house and person, I just HAD to expand my description ). When I got Bidge, I picked him up at obedience camp--my chance to get the puppy of my dreams (he was 14 months old at the time and I'd known him since he was 12 weeks old) and go to camp. The sleeping arrangements were in cabins. There was someone else there with a dog named "Beej" (which was what Bidge's name used to be)--and she was constantly yelling "BEEEEEJ" at him. My Bidge would duck and cringe every time she yelled. I couldn't have that, so I taught him that when she yelled was a cue for me about to proffer a goodie. M. Shirley Chong The Well Mannered Dog