As a couples therapist in Boulder, Colorado, I am certified by The Gottman Institute of couples therapy and now study Attachment Theory. I see a direct correlation between the never-ending human need for attachment and the loving behavior that dogs provide. Who taught them to do this?
In 1760, a Spanish bishop noted that foundling children in orphanages who were sheltered, clothed, and fed but not touched, often died “from sadness.” In the 1930s and 40s, orphaned children, deprived of touch and emotional contact, died in droves. Their death certificates read “failure to thrive.”
In the mid 1900s, British psychiatrist John Bowlby (1907-1990) described the fear, sadness, alienation, anger, and hurt that all humans feel when they are rejected by other humans. Although Freud failed to address problems in attachment, Bowlby formulated Attachment Theory, which explains that the need for high-quality connection to loved ones never subsides no matter how old we get. Previously, psychologists believed that coddled children became clingy, overdependent youngsters who matured into inadequate adults. Bowlby, instead, saw four behaviors that are key to attachment: that we “monitor and maintain emotional and physical closeness with our beloved; that we reach out for this person when we’re unsure, upset, or feeling down; that we miss this person when we are apart; and that we count on this person to be there for us when we go out into the world and explore” (Johnson 17).
In previous decades, psychologists thought that once we grew beyond infancy, we also outgrew the need to be nurtured. Children raised in the old European belief of “spare the rod, spoil the child” believed that the need to be loved, coddled, and given unconditional positive regard vanished after we reached age two or three. Many adults are still reeling from such an upbringing and find themselves confused about how to attain fulfillment. Some have turned to dogs to meet this core need that we do not outgrow, despite what our parents may have believed. We are grateful for dogs’ positive regard—that same regard we received from (most of) our mothers when we were babies.
Christopher, an eighty-year-old man whose father told him to stop being a sissy when he was four, can’t wrap his head around the fact that his wife is angry at him for things he’ll never understand. He says, “To quote cartoon character Popeye the Sailor Man, ‘I yam what I yam.’ I’m not going to change.” He sees no reason to provide her with warm hugs, love, and nurturing, and he gets none from her. However, the most precious being in his life is Pepper, a small Australian Shepherd, who wiggles up a storm when she sees him, licks his face, curls up in his lap, growls at strange noises, and does whatever she can to please him. Pepper is Christopher’s primary attachment relationship, and he will do nothing to jeopardize that.
Consider Leyla, a thirty-six-year-old mother of three small children. She works from home as a customer service agent for an insurance company. After a full day of caring for her children while trying to work eight hours, she is exhausted and grumpy when her husband, Mark, arrives home every evening from his job as a UPS driver. He’s also tired, grumpy, and needs from Leyla the same attention she has showered on their kids. But he doesn’t get it. And Leyla is pretty darned needy at this point and craves for him to hold her tightly and ask, “How was your day? What can I do for you? Should I order a pizza? I’ll watch the kids while you take a long, hot bath if you’d like.”
Instead, Mark tromps around the kitchen, looks for signs of a cooking supper, sees none, and shouts, “I’m starving. You know I do physical work all day. I need a good supper. Why can’t you cook something for me?”
Their Labradoodle and their German Shorthair Pointer stand by and observe all this. One sidles up to Mark and the other to Leyla. Their tails wag as they look into their masters’ eyes, and both parents stroke the dogs, then kneel down so their faces can be lapped with kisses. Each one hugs a dog and feels safe.
It’s clear that dogs, over the years, have learned to provide their owners with what the owners need but don’t receive from their spouses, parents, partners, etc. Dogs have tapped into the human truth that, no matter how old we are, we still need to be adored, cuddled, told that we are safe, and that we are loved—the way our mothers or other attachment figure did when we were infants.
But many parents withdraw most of this adoring attention as the children grow up. Instead, they request good behavior and obedience. And then, whom do these grown-up children turn to to have this need fulfilled? Yep, a romantic love partner, but when the partner fails to provide for these needs, what do they do?
If there is no such “person” to fulfill these needs, many turn to dogs. But how did dogs learn to provide these attributes to us? Of course, no one dog in its single lifetime can learn these behaviors. However, through selective breeding over centuries, Man bred only those dogs who displayed this loving, protective behavior. Who wants a dog that doesn’t wag its tail, come with joy when it’s called, and occasionally growl to help us feel safe? Although our mothers don’t wag tails and lick our faces, the parallels in loving, safe, adoring behaviors are undeniable. We can thank early breeders for “teaching” dogs this cherished phenomenon and modern breeders for perpetuating it.
Work Cited
Johnson, Susan, Hold Me Tight, Piatkus, London; p. 17. 2008