This past summer, South Florida lost one of its youngest, most vulnerable citizens. His name was Javon Dade, and he was four years old. On the last day of his painfully short life, he wandered into his father’s backyard, accompanied only by his teddy bear. While we will never know the exact details of what happened next, what we do know, is that little Javon was mauled to death by one or more of the six dogs that lived in the yard. All of the dogs were confiscated by Miami Dade Animal Services. One of them was an intact male pit bull. As of this writing, the DNA tests to prove which dog or dogs killed Javon are still pending. The following day, however, the pit bull was euthanized after displaying aggressive behavior towards the shelter’s staff. That weekend, one of my wife’s Facebook “friends” sent her a terse private message:
“It’s ALWAYS the pit bull.”
I’ll call this “friend” Jack. Jack enjoys challenging our assertion that pit bulls are just dogs, and that aggression is not caused by DNA. He doesn’t particularly like the peer-reviewed studies and scientific evidence with which we respond, which I suppose is why he continues to spar with us. My wife responded with an equally terse one-liner: “No, Jack. It’s ALWAYS the resident dogs.”
Resident Dogs vs. Family Pets
As details of Javon’s death emerged, and the story grew more complex, a particular detail remained constant throughout the process. Every media outlet that reported this story referred to the dogs as “family pets.” And every time I heard that expression, my anger grew. While it may seem to some that I am quibbling over semantics, the fact of the matter is that any meaningful discourse on dog bites and attacks must include the distinction between family dogs and resident dogs.
Late last year, the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association released an in-depth study on ten years’ worth of dog bite related fatalities. In over two thirds of case studies, the dog or dogs involved were resident dogs, as opposed to family pets. Family pets live indoors with the family. They may not be considered family members, or described as part of the family, but they interact with humans on a daily basis.
They may not be perfect angels (God knows my dogs are not!), but they live with the expectation of good manners, and adherence to the rules we have taught them. No begging for food, no crowding us while we eat. If it’s not in the toy box, it isn’t yours. You may bark to give an alert, but stop when we ask you to (still working on that one). Answer nature’s calls outside. No fence fighting with the neighbor’s dog (improved, but not perfect). Come when you are called. And while our family does not include children, we expect perfect child etiquette. Period.
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I’ll be the first to admit that their door etiquette is terrible. Grendel has me wrapped around her proverbial little finger. Zohan has a nervous streak that demands constant vigilance when other dogs are present. But we are always trying to do better. In exchange for following our rules, they get to come to work with us, play fun games, meet new people, and go on the occasional road trip.
Family pets interact with humans every day, and do so in ways that we have taught them are appropriate. They are well-socialized towards all members of the household, including other pets, children, infants, and guests. They keep their impulses and instincts in check by choosing desired behaviors instead. But dogs are not born knowing how to make what humans call good decisions. These are learned behaviors, and we must be the ones to teach them. On the other end of the spectrum are resident dogs.
What is a resident dog?
A resident dog is one that is owned by humans and resides on their property, but does not regularly interact with the family who lives on the property. Many people, including dog owners themselves, will refer to these animals as family pets, simply because they are kept on a piece of property owned by a family. They are almost always sexually intact, and allowed or encouraged to breed.
Three of the six dogs taken from Javon’s home were puppies; it has been widely speculated that these unsocialized dogs saw him as a threat to the litter. And why wouldn’t they? Had they ever been taught by humans how to distinguish a legitimate threat from a perceived threat? Had they ever been taught proper child etiquette?
DCF records show that as an infant, Javon crawled and played on the floor where those same dogs urinated and defecated. Complaints were filed stating that the dogs were aggressive. The neighbors in Goulds reported the dogs would lunge at the fence at passersby. Socialized? Trained? These dogs were not even housebroken. Another neighbor reported that a dog was kicked after the dog obeyed the command to stop barking! Resident dogs are routinely subjected to these types of mixed signals and abject abuse, hence their mental instability.
Resident dogs live either alone or in packs, isolated from human contact. They are untrained, unsocialized, and never go to the vet. They are usually kept chained, tethered, or allowed to roam freely. Many live in runs, kennels, or pens. With nothing to occupy their minds, and hormones surging through their bodies, these dogs become ticking time bombs. At best, they become a public nuisance as they will often resort to mindless barking in an effort to attract attention or relieve boredom.
Improper diet and lack of veterinary care can lead to health problems that intensify aggression. Resident dogs are often acquired to guard or protect the property, yet are not given the training needed to do so reliably or safely. A true guard dog is trained using positive reinforcement only. He learns to distinguish a legitimate threat from a four-year-old child with a teddy bear. Other resident dogs are simply banished to the yard when they outgrow the snuggly puppy phase and become rambunctious adolescents. Ditto for dogs who are “downgraded” with the addition of a new pet, a new spouse, a new baby, or a new set of furniture.
After explaining this distinction to "Facebook Jack," he fired back that he still wasn’t buying it. He grew up on a farm, with hound dogs who hunted. They owned bassetts and beagles, usually about 20 at a time. None were spayed or neutered, as a good hunting dog was a thing of beauty whose bloodlines should be preserved. They never set foot inside the house. They lived in pens and kennels and at any given time, he or any of his siblings or cousins could walk into their midst, and be slathered with sloppy kisses. Back on the farm, he claimed, that was how all dogs lived. And none of them ran around killing kids.
I thought back to my own childhood, and realized that Jack actually had a pretty good point. When my family moved to England, we spent the summers on my Uncle John’s dairy farm. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the collies and shepherds that moved the cows were kept in this manner as well. Dogs in the house? Not on Aunt Jean’s watch. They belonged outside, and if I had a problem with that I could sleep in the kennels with them! Yet like Jack’s beagles, these intact, outdoor dogs never so much as bared their teeth. Can we in fairness say they were resident dogs? Or worse yet, ticking time bombs? No. And here’s why:
The most dangerous aspect of a resident dog is its isolation from humans. This isolation leads to a failure to respond to normal commands and cues. They have nothing to look forward to, and no reason to see human interaction as valuable.
Jack’s beloved beagles and my beloved collies were purpose-bred, working dogs. Their work had meaning and purpose - and they loved it. They were taught how to do their jobs by the humans with whom they shared their world, if not necessarily their houses. They were taught with patience, and rewarded with lavish praise. They ate heartily and slept soundly after a long day of meaningful, physical work. They may not have slept on satin pillows, but they were active, switched on, and cognitively enriched. They worked as willing partners with the humans who taught them the skills they needed to feel valued and loved. Their work had a point, their lives had meaning, and the partnership was win-win.
The isolated life of a resident dog is meaningless, pointless and marked by suffering. While it is usually the dog that suffers, the JAVMA study found that a staggering 76 percent of fatal dog attacks were carried out by resident dogs. Most of the victims were children under the age of five.
Dog owners, I implore you - do not allow Javon’s short life to be reduced to a mere statistic. Socialize your dogs, and expect to be held accountable for their behavior. It’s time to stop using breed-based assumptions as an excuse for irresponsible dog ownership. The practice of keeping resident dogs must stop.
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