DOG

The Myth of the Happy Hiding Place

I dog is peeking around the ide of the refrigerator. His face is tense and he is scared. — Lewis, when he was terrified of sudden noises

Imagine that you are in a storm shelter while a tornado passes overhead or close by. Or, god forbid, a bomb shelter during a conflagration. If your shelter had an attractive exterior and some nice amenities inside, like chairs, beds, and lighting, would you stop being afraid of the tornado or the military action going on above or around you? Not likely.

Yet we easily assume, and marketers push the idea, that once a dog is hiding from the thing that scares them, they are relaxed and happy.

Fearful dogs deserve more than a hiding place. Because a hiding dog is a frightened dog. As their friends and protectors, we owe it to them to address the fear.

Owners of fearful dogs are a vulnerable population. They love their dogs and must see them suffer. They experience helplessness and grief. If someone offers a solution, like a product that is purported to fix or at least comfort their dog, if they can afford it, they are usually all in.

I say “they,” but I’m part of this population. In the past, I have bought the products. I bought a compression garment. I bought special music. If people had been marketing “safe haven” hiding enclosures that promised protection and relaxation back then, I might have bought one if I could’ve afforded it.

Hiding Place Products

So many things are marketed to alleviate anxiety and fear these days. Supplements, music, enclosures, dog beds. (Dog beds? Yep. “Anxiety-reducing dog bed!”) Providing products that supposedly “cure” fear and anxiety in dogs is a huge business.

I’ve been writing posts and creating webinars to uncover the lies in the marketing language about these products for some time now. I’m angry because most do not operate as promised and they are exploiting people who are trying to help their suffering dogs. Many also denigrate interventions for which there is evidence.

Here is some of the marketing language for three enclosures designed to protect dogs from sound and other stimuli. These are all verbatim from the products’ websites except for the explanatory phrases in parentheses.

Product 1: Peaceful, shelter, stylish, safe, natural, wellbeing, sleek, instinctive, refuge, silent, cozy, haven, calm, natural calming process, without the need for medication, peace of mind (for human). (Amelioration of separation anxiety is implied.)
Product 2: Safe haven, tranquil haven, significantly reduces anxiety, sleek, stress-free home, ensure peace of mind for every member of the family.
Product 3: Calm, sanctuary, “solution” (for separation anxiety and sound phobia), calming music “based on research studies,” effective substitute for medicine, soothe the animal.

They sound great, don’t they? Especially if you don’t know that their claims are overblown. They make ridiculous promises. None of the product pages recommend addressing the cause of the dog’s fears. None of them acknowledge that sound phobia or separation anxiety are serious medical conditions. Two of them paint the use of medications as undesirable. Marketers know that there are many dog owners who are reluctant to try behavioral medications. Their marketing actively pushes people away from effective ways of helping their dogs.

Hiding as a Part of a Training Plan

Providing a safe hiding place for a pet can certainly be a management method as part of a training plan.

My interest in hiding places was rekindled by a product that was advertised recently. But I’ve been interested in them for a long time, ever since I’ve had fearful dogs. I have a page of do-it-yourself hiding places for dogs. But a hiding place is a first step. It’s not the only intervention. Hiding places are far from the only element of the process of helping the dog. And they are not one-size-fits-all, as product marketing implies.

But let’s back up. Being so scared of something that you want to hide is awful. So shouldn’t our first questions be, “Is the trigger something we can control so we can prevent the exposure in the first place?” and “Can I help my dog learn to be less afraid?” Address either of those, and then our animal won’t have such a great need to hide. I recently heard someone brag with delight that their dog ran to their custom hiding place when the vacuum came out. While it’s great that the dog has someplace to go, what if the human made sure not to vacuum when the dog was around? Gave them something nice to chew in a far room of the house with some masking sounds on, or vacuumed when another family member took the dog out for a while? There would be that much less fear in the dog’s life if the human simply prevented exposure. Not to mention that they could go a step further and help the dog not to fear the vacuum.

There are steps previous to helping our pet hide, and many steps to take after a hiding place is provided. I want more for Lewis, and for your dogs. I want them not to need to hide.

The Aversiveness of Hiding Places

This is a mind-blowing thought. Fancy crates or custom-fitted closets are supposed to make our pets feel better! But if an animal stays in a hiding place because of something that scares them, that place just has to be less aversive than the thing they are trying to flee.

It’s easy to think of hiding places as places our dogs go to, rather than as places they go to get away from something. We imagine them as pleasant and comforting. But they merely have to be less awful for the animal than being fully exposed to what they are afraid of. This is an escape contingency. Remember the tornado shelter.

Assuming that “attractive hiding place” = “happy and relaxed dog” is a terrible misunderstanding.

My Feral Cat’s Hiding Place

I learned about the potential aversiveness of hiding places from Arabella, my feral cat.

I black cat is curled up in an under-the-sink cabinet in a very tight space. She is looking down, ignoring the camera. — Feral cat Arabella in her hiding place

She hid from humans, including me if I was moving around. She loved my three other cats and preferred to hang out with them. She would visit me and solicit petting if (and only if) I was in bed. She never became “tame” in the usual sense of the word. She was nervous around me if I was moving (and usually ran away) and was petrified of all other humans.

She found a hiding spot: a cabinet under the sink in a bathroom. The door didn’t latch, so she could open it with her nose or paw. It would close behind her when she got in. I will never forget the sound of that cabinet door flapping shut behind her whenever anything unusual happened in the house.

She spent a lot of time in there, so I put in a towel for her to lie on. The bathroom itself had no windows and was very dark when the light wasn’t on, so inside her closed cabinet she was in near-total darkness. It probably reeked of cleaning supplies.

In some situations, Arabella would stay in the cabinet for over twelve hours. I don’t need to describe all the ways this was likely unpleasant for her, because her behavior said it all. As soon as I stayed put or the people were gone, she shot out of there. The place she had escaped to now became the place she escaped from.

Arabella’s situation taught me that a hiding place isn’t necessarily happy or relaxing. All a hiding place has to do is be less aversive than the thing the animal is escaping. I wish I had known better back then how to help her.

Unfortunately, we humans can be swayed into thinking hiding places are happy if the place is attractive and dedicated to the pet. But we shouldn’t assume that those qualities affect the pet’s experience.

Picking a Hiding Place

So, given that many of us have animals that need to hide sometimes, what should we consider in helping them optimize their choice? Just as we do a functional assessment before a training intervention, if we need to provide a hiding place for our pet, it’s important to know the function of the hiding behavior and observe the animal’s preferences. When considering products or do-it-yourself solutions, we need to assess the suitability. We need to determine as best we can whether a particular product or hiding place protects them from what they are trying to escape, and whether their history (including medical conditions) and preferences ensure it is a safe place for them. But let’s get away from the assumption of products for now, because usually our dogs have already told us what kind of hiding place they prefer.

A white dog with brown ears is crouched under a TV tray in a tight space with some art supplies. His face is very tense and he looks frightened. — Lewis in one of his “hiding places” when he was scared of noises

Lewis has hidden during very loud thunder or fireworks, especially before we had the right medications to help him. Of course I let him hide; it would be cruel to force him out when he has retreated. His choice is usually to wedge himself between pieces of furniture without regard to whether he can be seen. (See the first photo in this post and the one wrapped in this section.) In fact, he chooses places where he can see us, his people. I have shown him cozy closets, covered crates, a secluded back room, and a small dark bathroom that was a favorite of a previous dog and outfitted with a dog bed. He doesn’t seek these dark, secluded spaces. His response shows that a purchased enclosed “hiding place” would be a waste of money. His chosen hiding places don’t protect him from loud bangs and booms, but neither do the crates that claim to. In my webinars, I discuss extensively why attempts at soundproofing against thunder and fireworks don’t work.

We do need to make sure the dog’s chosen place is safe. Some hiding places aren’t. I think twice about the bathroom option nowadays.

A Word about Dens

A tan puppy with a mostly black face is lying in a crate with a bed inside it. She is looking meekly up at the camera. — Baby Clara, after I showed her a crate on her first night with me

Females of many species of mammals whelp and raise their litters in secluded areas or dens. This includes feral and free-ranging dogs. (Dogs who live in homes are usually provided a secluded, human-created whelping area.) There are some interesting studies about the characteristics of dens that free-ranging dogs choose (Sen Majumder et al., 2016; Bhadra & Sarkar, 2023).

But reductionist statements like “Dogs are den animals” or “Dogs love dens” are not justifications for hiding places as complete solutions for dogs who are hiding out of fear. Nor do such statements acknowledge a dog’s individuality.

I say this is someone who had a feral puppy enter my house one night. At bedtime, she scooted straight into a small, comfy crate I provided her and stayed there, completely silent, all night. We could say, as I did then “Wow, she was probably raised in a den, she loves having her own little space.” Clara probably was raised in a den, culvert, or other secluded area. But even if enclosed spaces were familiar to her, we could also say, “This pup, who is terrified of humans and suddenly removed from her littermates and the only environment she knows, is scared and hiding.”

Lewis, on the other hand, spent two months living in a cage at a veterinary practice as an older pup. The first night I had him, I guided him into a crate with a cushy bed, right next to my bed. I gave him some goodies to eat, but he yelled immediately when I closed the door. (I opened it immediately, and we scrapped that idea for the time being.) Ironically, it’s likely that he, also, was raised in a ditch or other secluded space.

We need to look at the function. Statements about dogs’ love of dens are labels, and they negate dogs’ individual preferences.

Dogs Deserve More

Lewis, a white dog with brown ears, is asleep in an uncovered wire crate with the door open. — Because of medications and training, Lewis is resting during some of the worst noise of Independence day.

Don’t believe the hype: buying a hiding place won’t solve all your dog’s problems. In many cases, it won’t help anything at all. The itch to purchase a fancy place for our dog to hide in should be a signal for us to do more. To do whatever we can to address the animal’s fear or discomfort directly.

I absolutely believe in letting scared dogs hide. But providing, helping them find, or optimizing a hiding place is not a solution for a dog in fear. It’s one part of a plan. When there are ways to prevent their fear from reaching a point where they need to hide, my ethics are that I am bound to try to help them. Because repeated fear and panic are not good. And spending a lot of time hiding is no way to live.

If you need expert help for your fearful dog, contact Debbie Jacobs of Fearfuldogs.com or Malena DeMartini and her team (specifically for separation anxiety). Both provide phone and/or online consults. And both can help you teach your dog that the world is a much less scary place than they formerly thought. Your dog won’t likely need to hide anymore.

References

Bhadra, A., & Sarkar, R. (2023). A Dog’s life in the human jungle. In Canine Cognition and the Human Bond (pp. 63-90). Cham: Springer International Publishing.
Sen Majumder, S., Paul, M., Sau, S., & Bhadra, A. (2016). Denning habits of free-ranging dogs reveal preference for human proximity. Scientific reports, 6(1), 32014.