 Ted Kerasote's writing has appeared in dozens of periodicals and anthologies, including Audubon, National Geographic Traveler, Outside, Salon, and the New York Times.  He is also the author and editor of six books, one of which, Out There:  In the Wild in a Wired Age, won the National Outdoor Book Award.
Ted Kerasote's writing has appeared in dozens of periodicals and anthologies, including Audubon, National Geographic Traveler, Outside, Salon, and the New York Times.  He is also the author and editor of six books, one of which, Out There:  In the Wild in a Wired Age, won the National Outdoor Book Award.
From a Q & A about his latest book, Merle’s Door: Lessons from a  Freethinking Dog:
Q: Merle’s Door: Lessons from a  Freethinking Dog distinguishes itself from the rest of the pack of dog  memoirs by offering readers fascinating facts about canine genealogy and the  evolution of human-dog interaction. How long did it take you to research the  book?
A: One of my aims in  writing Merle’s Door was not only to tell the story of  a remarkable dog who was one of my best friends, but also to give readers  accurate information about the origins of dogs, the dog-human partnership, and  how dogs think. My hope is that readers can then apply this information to their  relationships with their own dogs. For this information to be both accurate and  current, I went to the latest primary sources. Reading scientific papers,  interviewing some of the scientists who wrote them, and reading widely in the  dog literature took me two years.
Q: Most people subscribe to the commonly held belief  that they should dominate their dogs. You suggest a different  approach — essentially one that lets dogs be dogs. Why do you think that many  owners have a hard time accepting this theory? Do you think they would change  the way they treat their dogs if they were aware of this model and the potential  it has to improve their relationship with their four-legged  friends?
A: This is a complex  issue — and one of the major themes of Merle’s Door — so  please forgive me if my answer is a bit long. I think that a lot of dog owners  have a hard time letting their dogs be dogs — in other words, diminishing their  authority over them—because, frankly, authority is addictive. In our western  democratic society, dogs offer us one of the very few relationships in which we  can exert unlimited authority and even physical punishment with almost no legal  or moral constraints. In return, we’re obeyed—not merely obeyed, but also loved,  or at least fawned upon. This one-sided relationship is psychologically  soothing; it transports us back to our infancy when we can demand anything of  our parents, and usually get it. Not many of us—unless we’re CEOs or the rulers  of countries—can get away with this sort of behavior as adults except in our  relationships with dogs. Sit, stay, lie down, be quiet, see you in eight hours  when I come home from work—this kind of authority is heady and hard to  relinquish.
Such power is also hard to relinquish because dog trainers  constantly advise us to be strong alphas to our dogs. After all, that’s how  alpha wolves treat their subordinates—they keep the pack in order and everything  running smoothly, right? The problem with this reasoning is that it’s been  derived from observing captive wolf packs, and they’re dysfunctional. As eminent  wolf biologist David Mech has pointed out, “Such an approach is analogous to  trying to draw inferences about human family dynamics by studying humans in  refugee camps.”
It wasn’t until researchers began watching wild,  unmolested wolf packs at the end of the twentieth century that they discovered  that wolf society is a lot more egalitarian than anyone had imagined. The  so-called alpha wolves, the breeding adults, actually share leadership with  their maturing pups, letting them decide whom to hunt, when to hunt, and where  to move the pack. The parent wolves don’t always have to be obeyed by their  teenage wolves—meaning there’s free will in wolf society. Yet parent wolves are  frequently listened to because, just as in human society, it’s the elders who  have wisdom to impart.
Since dogs are wolves — genetically and  psychologically — they, too, want some say in conducting their lives as they grow  up. They want some authentic freedoms while also listening to those who are  their elders, their human partners. Keeping one’s dog a perpetual child and  quashing this natural maturation process by not giving the dog some leeway in  conducting its own affairs — especially providing it off-leash time in which to  socialize with other dogs — often leads to what this heavy-handed approach does in  child rearing: the dog acts out or becomes a yes-dog, obeying mindlessly and not  realizing its full mental capabilities.
Merle sidestepped many of these  pitfalls through some bad fortune. He began life on his own — abused, shot at, and  having to catch his own food to survive. But there was a silver lining to these  hardships; they made him resourceful, self-reliant, and self-actualized. When we  found each other and I gave him his own dog door so he could come and go as he  wished, I simply fostered his innate curiosity and ability to solve problems on  his own. The result was a dog who was my peer in many ways — who taught me rather  than the other way around. I’ve hoped that in writing his biography I might  convey the value of loosening the leash, in all aspects of our dogs’ lives, and  by so doing mentoring them to become freer thinkers and equal partners.
Read 
the entire Q & A.
Read 
an excerpt from Merle's Door, and learn more about the book at 
Ted Kerasote's website.
The Page 69 Test: Merle's Door.
--Marshal Zeringue