It’s dog bite prevention week!

I was standing in a client’s open-concept family room/kitchen, leaning back against the low counter that separated the spaces, with a 100lbs dog with a bite record barking savagely just a few inches in front of me. My heart pounded. Adrenaline coursed through me, making my skin shiver. I turned my face, afraid it might get bitten, and spoke calmly to my client, pitching my voice to carry over the explosive, wet barking noises.

“It’s okay. Stay there. I’m just going to wait for him to calm down. No, stay there.”

The last thing I wanted was the owner coming closer and either making matters worse or getting bitten herself. I mean, getting bitten was what I was getting paid for, after all.

Several thoughts kept running through my head. I’m trapped, was one of them, since I couldn’t back any farther away with the counter behind me. Vault backward over the counter! was another, followed quickly by, No, don’t make any sudden moves. Have faith in your training.

The training I was thinking of was what we tell children: be a tree. Plant your feet, cross your arms, and look away from the dog is what we tell adults. Dogs, whether they’re playful or aggressive, will disengage.

His front paws kept stepping on my feet. Every so often I’d feel the brush of his muzzle against my skin. His hot breath bathed my arms. This dog had bitten quite a few people. Honestly, I was pretty scared.

“Stay there. It’s fine. We’re just going to give him time to settle down. Everything’s okay.” He’s too close he’s too close he’s too close I’m going to die. The fight or flight part of our brain doesn’t think, “I might get bit but I’ll survive.” Nope, it goes right to, “I’m going to die,” and it had been there since the dog had first charged me from across the room. It’s been too long, he’s not going to back down. Don’t make any sudden moves, for the love of god.

My brain is legitimately hardwired a little kooky, and I rarely have a fear response if a dog tries to attack me. I go very calm, and a little annoyed. It’s part of my ADHD, but it’s also just me. This time, though, I was scared.

And then the barking started to ease. The intensity died down. He stopped stepping on my feet. I couldn’t feel spittle or the hairs on his muzzle. He backed up a few feet so I had breathing room. I remained still, reassuring my clients that they didn’t need to step in, certain that if they did someone was going to get bitten badly.

He backed up a few more steps, and the barking died down a little more. It became a little less frenzied, a little more growly. Finally, he walked back to his bed across the room and laid down with a grumble.

I looked at my client, smiled, and said, “We’re going to start with something that’s less triggering for him.”

I work with dogs with behavioral problems, whether those problems are causing frustration for a family or are major life and death situations. The time I’ve described above I didn’t get bitten, but it was a close thing, and it still sticks out in my mind. Given the kinds of cases I take, I’m very, very lucky.

Or am I?

You’ll note my behavior (or lack thereof) was very specific: don’t move my feet. (Prey moves, and sudden movements can escalate an already bad situation.) Cross my arms. (Signals that I neither want to play nor fight, and takes away an easy target for a dog.) Look away. (I’m communicating that I’m not answering the challenge.) These are the things I teach to kids when I’m called out to Girl Scout Troop meetings or to elementary schools. “Be a tree!” I shout, and they do. Dogs disengage and flow around them like water.

That is a huge part of why I don’t get bit very often, but the other part is that I’m really, really good at reading dog body language. I believe we all should be good at reading dog body language, and it’s why I teach people how to do it, and how to use it to train their dogs.

I don’t mean, “Pin your dog down to show it who’s boss!” (Please, never pin your dog down.) (I mean never.) I mean, “look at the tilt of your dog’s ears. That’s stress.”

Since it’s bite awareness week, I want to talk about two extremes you’ll see before a dog bites.

“My dog bites unpredictably.”

No dog bites unpredictably, unless it’s due to lots of pain or it’s one of the less than 1% of dogs who have an actual brain disorder. So let’s look at what a dog is saying before they bite “unpredictably.”

Look at the brown dog. There’s only one stress signal showing, but it’s the most important one: the whites of the eyes. You’ll also see that she’s not looking directly at the shepherd, who is the object of her stress; she’s sideways, flashing the whites of her eyes at him. This is a photo, but you can see the tension in her body: she’s gone stiff and still.

When dogs bite unexpectedly, they’re almost always showing stress signals. They’ve usually turned their head away from whoever they’re looking at. They’ve flashed the whites of their eyes. And, frequently, they go perfectly still. This is a bite waiting to happen.

“My dog lunges and barks.”

This is the more obvious biting dog, but even these dogs will tell you before they attack. First, their tails will be high and stiff or still.

When a dog dips their nose and seems to be locked onto you like a laser, it’s called a hard stare. It’s a warning, and often happens before an attack. We, as humans, are actually pretty good at reading this body language. When you feel threatened by a dog, it’s probably because you are being threatened by a dog.

Well, now what?

Now, you be a tree.

Plant your roots — your feet if you’re standing, your butt if you’re sitting.

Fold your arms across your chest.

Look away.

You’ve just taken away the “prey” signal that people give by running, which ignites a chase. You aren’t moving toward the dog or shuffling sideways, even though you might want to, because those would either make the situation worse or again, trigger a prey drive.

You’re removed any flailing, pushing, blocking arms, which are generally the perfect size for a dog to grab. Instead they’re presented with calmness and a lump that isn’t so easy to get their mouth around.

Finally, you’ve refused to acknowledge them. You aren’t challenging them. You aren’t staring at them. You’re telling them you’re neutral and, oh yeah, you don’t care.

Give the dog time to leave on their own, or to relax and realize nothing bad was happening — and then you leave on your own. If movement triggers another round of barking? Stop and do it again. Eventually, you’ll be able to walk away from even the most dangerous dogs.

I hope you never need this information, but it’s knowledge everyone should have. This is the tippy tippity tip of the body language iceberg, but now that you know, you’re prepared.

BUT WAIT!

Kids are the people most bitten, so let’s teach them safety, too. Scroll down and check out the “Be a tree” pamphlet below. Save the images to your computer, print them out, teach them to every kid you know. Let’s keep a lot of people safe!

As always,

Jenna