Erin Jones, PhD, CPDT-KA, IAABC-ADT, CDBC and author of Constructing Canine Consent (CRC Press, 2024) tells us about her journey and experience in writing this book.
Back in 2019, just a few months into my PhD journey, a witty little dog by the name of Juno came to live with us. She had spent her first 10 weeks of life on a working farm in a very rural location on the South Island of New Zealand. Juno was the product of an “accidental union” of the farm’s female Fox Terrier cross, a “pig dog” (used for hunting wild boar) and their distant neighbour’s very senior but obviously still quite fertile male Bulldog/Pointer cross. Juno’s mom was heartbreakingly aloof, and Juno has spent the entire 10 weeks in an outdoor wire pen sharing possum and pig carcasses with her littermates.
Juno is not “resilient” by any stretch of the term. It’s really no wonder why: genetics, epigenetics, and environmental reasons were abundant. I cried a lot in those first few weeks, with her incessant whining and complete inability to be left “behind bars” as a baby. Her sorrowful cries made me dig into the depths of all my knowledge and learnings to find ways to better help her. She was anxious most of the time, fearful of most things, but very clear about what she liked and didn’t like. Having a “voice” is what made her feel safe and is something I never wanted to see fade (and it hasn’t). It made me think very specifically about my own behaviour and my own actions, and how everything I was doing was directly affecting this other being.
At that time, I was working on my PhD proposal. I was interested in the social construction of dogs and how our expectations affect their lives, behaviour, and the way we treat them. And while this was my main research focus, I was starting to think more and more about agency and consent and the role they play in the wellbeing of dogs. I was planning a mixed-methods approach to data collection: survey, interviews, and diaries. I chose to incorporate questions about consent into my interviews and survey, recognizing its emerging significance in discussions surrounding dog-human interactions. To me, as a behaviour consultant and trainer, before beginning my research on the topic of dog consent, the idea seemed so facile:

• You pet dogs and they are into it = consent; they aren’t into it = no consent
• They learn an opt-in behaviour and offer it = consent; they decline or remove the opt-in behaviour = no consent

I was hugely oversimplifying a very complex topic! Yes, I suppose those ideas are a start, the genesis of nonhuman animal consent in human interactions. But if we stop at these marginal ideas of consent, then I think we are really missing the point.
So, for the next four years (and beyond, even after my PhD thesis was long since defended and the piece of paper credentialing me as a doctor hung on my wall), I shimmied down the philosophical rabbit hole of canine consent. I was contracted to write a book on the topic by Taylor & Francis in 2022, so I really needed to dig deeper: What is consent? Does it extend to dogs? How? Always? What happens when it doesn’t? What are the ethical entanglements that encompass the inherent power structures between the dog and the dog owner? What are the roadblocks people face when they try to conceptualise conversations of consent in our interactions with dogs? My aim then, as I started to write the book Constructing Canine Consent, zoomed in on ways to bridge the gap between (human) ethical frameworks and canine behaviour in a way that challenges conventional approaches and thinking. I wanted to urge readers to reconsider how they interpret and respect their dogs’ agency and preferences.
This wasn’t an easy task. There is a real dearth in any literature about nonhuman animals and consent, especially the philosophical frameworks or how to make sense of it all. It requires drawing on the latest research in animal behaviour and cognition and then marrying this with literature on animal ethics, philosophy, critical animal studies, human-animal studies, and sociology. These fields all have their own theoretical structures and terminologies; so, to make a book about canine consent that is supported by these scholarly fields sound seamless, it was nothing less than a constant battle of ideologies and lexis.
Circling back to Juno, the more deeply I thought about this topic, the deeper I fell into this kaleidoscope of questions, all with various shades and hues, some with definitive outlines and others with murky transitions. It was, to say the least, a tangled mess. Juno was the one who helped me make sense of it. More than any dog I had worked with to that point in my career, I prioritized her agency, her communication, her choices, and her ability to ask for what she needed and decline what she didn’t. She is fiercely opinionated, but how many dogs might be if we didn’t squelch their desire to communicate those opinions? She is so clever, skilled, witty, and expressive. It brings me such genuine joy. Given her early emotional struggles, this is more than anything I could have asked for. For example, from the moment she entered our home she was deeply suspicious of people doing anything but walking a straight line down the sidewalk, and would often bark or retreat. Over time, she learned a variety of behaviours she could use to navigate these situations that were more positive and less confronting. During this process, she also learned that she had the agency to say no, move away, position herself behind me, or whatever she needed to do to stay safe. That meant we could go more places and do more things, and this also meant she was gradually exposed to more and more novel situations, creating a systematic approach for desensitisation and habituation to occur. Sure, it requires some learning/teaching — some behaviour interventions like differential reinforcement of other behaviours — which are ultimately going to be more intrusive than doing nothing at all. But doing nothing at all would have meant that she struggled to cope successfully, and she would have had poor welfare outcomes because of it.
Regardless of Juno’s particular situation, she isn’t alone. We all require lessons to learn how to exist harmoniously in public spaces. Babies scream and cry in public, but they grow up and learn that there are no desirable consequences for adults who scream and cry in public. If they have the ability to express themselves in ways where they feel heard and respected and empowered to be in control of what happens to them, they are a lot less likely to scream and cry to express their needs, especially as adults. I am not trying to compare human babies to dogs; this isn’t at all fair to do. Not to mention I am not a mother, so I have minimal human baby experience. But my point is, there is an acceptable period of paternalism required that helps us develop into skilled adults, and I think the same goes for dogs, too, if we want them to live harmoniously in our exceedingly humancentric homes and societies.

Key Takeaways:

There are three fundamental concepts that I want people to know before diving into this book:

• I do not have all the answers. My book is about posing questions that allow us to think more critically about our relationship with dogs.
• Dogs do have language, they can communicate, and they can gather information and use it to make informed decisions.
• Canine consent might look a little different than it does for humans, and that’s okay. But saying that because it looks different, that it doesn’t matter or that it’s not applicable, is doing dogs a disservice.

Dogs, like all other typically operational animals, grow into fully functioning adults. They know what they want, and they often know what’s best for them when provided the opportunity to make choices. Certainly they know their needs better than I, an entirely different species who experiences the world in a completely different way, ever could. However, the way we have created dogs to be perpetually dependent throughout their lives, by design, as well as the ways we micromanage their lives so closely, doesn’t allow much room to flourish independently or intrinsically. That is why I have defined a canine-indexed definition of consent. One that accounts for their unique relationship with humans and their unique and important abilities (outlined later in this article).
One main thread that runs through the book is how, even implicitly, human exceptionalism invades our moral actions. Human exceptionalism, the paradigm that humans are superior to all other animals (and above nature, really), affects our actions and decisions even though we may very much love and care for our dogs. It affects the way we expect them to behave, the way we control their movements and actions and limit their ability to live autonomously. It also affects the way that we shape their behaviour to suit our social needs. The world always favours the human; the world always prioritizes humanness over animalness. If a dog bites a human, no matter what the circumstances might be, it is always the dog who faces the possibility of death.

Why Consent Matters

The concept of consent, typically associated with human interactions, has significant moral and ethical implications when extended to the treatment of non-human animals involved in human relationships. Whether we call it a canine-indexed definition of “consent” or “assent” (though I feel consent is preferable in the context of moving animal rights in a forward trajectory), the key concept here is the species-indexed approach. Applying inherently human-centred terms like “consent” and “assent,” which both carry legal implications for humans, oversimplifies a far more complex issue. Nonhuman animals, after all, are not legally recognized as people. They are excluded from the legal definitions of personhood, rendering debates about these terms inapplicable in a strict legal sense.
However, this is exactly where the importance of a species-specific definition comes into play. What matters is not whether we shoehorn animals into our human legal categories, but how we respect their inherent autonomy within their own frameworks of cognition and experience.

1. Ethical Foundations: Autonomy and Respect

At the heart of ethical considerations is the principle of respect for autonomy. Autonomy involves acknowledging and honouring the agency and preferences of others. Whilst dogs may not possess autonomy in the same way humans do, they exhibit preferences, desires, and the ability to express discomfort, and they can assent or dissent during interactions. Ignoring these expressions undermines the respect owed to dogs who have long been passively compliant to human whims. Ethically, treating dogs as mere objects to control rather than as individuals with their own preferences violates the principle of respect for persons, adapted here to non-human persons. That means having the right to bodily autonomy.
Nonhuman animals are fully functioning adults — not human children or beings with cognitive disabilities. They possess the capability to make decisions that are important to their own wellbeing. Just because our human biases make it difficult for us to fully comprehend their experiences, this doesn’t mean we should only credit them with a diluted version of “consent.” Doing so diminishes their intrinsic value and autonomy, not necessarily intentionally (I know we are all fighting the same good fight!), but more implicitly, the way human exceptionalism seeps into our conceptions of nonhumans. By insisting that their abilities are on par with human constructs of consent (though yes, different), we affirm their importance in ways that reflect their cognitive maturity rather than infantilizing them.

2. The Capacity for Suffering and Wellbeing

The moral significance of canine consent is grounded in the understanding that dogs are sentient beings capable of experiencing pleasure, pain, stress, and wellbeing. Various training methods and interactions that disregard a dog’s ability to consent can lead to psychological distress, fear, and physical harm. From a very widely used utilitarian perspective in animal ethics, which emphasizes the minimization of suffering and the promotion of wellbeing, respecting canine consent is necessary. It ensures that interactions are designed to enhance a dog’s quality of life rather than inflict distress or discomfort for human gain.
Part of this is about focusing on the species-specific aspect of consent. This forces us to examine what genuinely matters to nonhuman animals in terms of their cognition and wellbeing — their point of view. This approach acknowledges that each species has their own needs, ways of communicating, and modes of interaction with the world, all of which must be acknowledged and understood (as best we can) if we are to treat them ethically. It requires us to go beyond human-centred definitions that pit human and nonhuman animal abilities against each other and instead construct frameworks that are truly reflective of their unique capacities.

3. Building Trust and Positive Relationships

Trust is the very nature of consensual relationships humans build with dogs. When dogs are allowed to express consent or nonconsent, they are more likely to engage willingly and enthusiastically in training and other activities. This mutual respect strengthens the bond between humans and dogs, leading to a more harmonious coexistence. Conversely, disregarding consent can result in fear, anxiety, and behavioural issues, undermining the ethical goal of promoting positive relationships.

4. Moral Responsibility and Stewardship

Humans have a moral responsibility toward animals in their care, often framed as a stewardship ethic. This responsibility entails providing for their physical and psychological needs, ensuring their wellbeing, and respecting their dignity. Recognizing canine consent aligns with this stewardship model by acknowledging that dogs are not mere property to be controlled but individuals deserving of equal ethical consideration. It reinforces the moral obligation to treat them with compassion, empathy, and respect.

5. Precedents in Animal Welfare and Rights

The movement toward recognizing animal rights and modern approaches to animal welfare has gained momentum, advocating for the intrinsic value and the moral consideration of nonhuman animals. Legal and ethical frameworks increasingly reflect this shift, emphasizing the need to treat nonhuman animals humanely. Respecting canine consent is a logical extension of these evolving standards, reinforcing the notion that nonhuman animals have inherent worth. It aligns with contemporary views on animal rights as well as the Five Domains model of animal welfare, both which advocate for the protection of animals’ interests and wellbeing. This is why it’s so important to redefine “consent” in a species-specific context (thus construct an indexed definition, as such). It moves the discussion beyond simply applying human terms and toward a more nuanced understanding of what respecting nonhuman agency and autonomy really looks like. By doing so, we create a more just and ethical worldview, one that genuinely includes the needs and capacities of other species.

6. Practical Implications and Ethical Training

Practically, incorporating canine consent into training models leads to more ethical and effective practices. Positive reinforcement, choice-based training, and cooperative care are examples of approaches that can, when done correctly, respect canine consent. These methods also often yield better outcomes by reducing stress and promoting positive behaviour changes. Ethical training that respects consent is thus not only a moral imperative but also a practical one, enhancing the overall efficacy of training practices.

From Theory to Praxis:

Constructing Canine Consent is not just a theoretical treatise; it is also a practical framework that emphasizes the importance of creating a positive, trust-filled environment where dogs feel safe and empowered to express their preferences and opinions. In the book, I outline important ethical and moral considerations when teaching dogs, like how we may avoid leveraging valuable provisions, and avoid coercion or transactional-type exchanges. Beyond this, I outline a canine-indexed definition of consent that includes five subcategories:

• Interaction consent
• Activity-based consent
• Cooperative care and learned consent
• Consent-based learning
• Substitutive consent

Each category has its own structure and significance that considers a dog’s right to consent, and what consent and nonconsent looks like, recognising dogs’ right to bodily autonomy. Examining these five subcategories, we can further reflect on some of the ethical applications of consent:

1. Interaction Consent

Dogs are prime candidates for snuggles. Juno is no exception. But when we touch a dog for pleasure, are we asking first? Are they? And are we listening to their assent or dissent? Is it pleasurable for everyone? One way to help clients better understand the principles of canine consent is to frame the conversation in a way that flows naturally.

• Always let the dog ask for touch interaction or ask the dog if they want the interaction and wait for their response.
• Check in frequently during the interaction
• Watch body language for signs of assent/dissent (a table is available on pages 40-42 in Constructing Canine Consent).
• Include “never” situations. For example, never touch (or even ask for touch) when they are doing something else like eating or sleeping, etc.

2. Activity-Based Consent

This might seem straightforward, but activities (playing, enrichment, sports) should always allow for dogs to express full autonomy. Sometimes, activities are leveraged with the use of (particularly high-value) toys or treats, even deprivation to improve performance, and fall subject to coercion, removing any possibility of genuine consent. That is not to say that high- value reinforcers don’t have their place, but we need to be mindful that we are constantly evaluating changes in preferences and motivations during the activity.

3. Cooperative Care and Learned Consent

Cooperative care is about teaching dogs how to use specific consent-based cues to communicate assent or dissent during handling. It is also about learning the predictive cues that inform their decisions. However, cooperative care is tricky. I see a lot of people teaching stationing behaviours (or other behaviours like a chin rest) without attaching the meaning of consent to it. During cooperative care, when a dog chooses to opt in by offering us a taught consent behaviour, we need to ensure they have a fully learned consent-withdrawal behaviour as well. Further, we need to ensure that we are not forcing or coercing them to choose to “give consent” or forcing them to make a choice based on our reinforcement contingencies and/or lack of discriminative stimulus.

4. Consent-Based Learning

Learning should focus on skills that:

1. Help dogs to coexist in a human world with little conflict
2. Make them feel safe
3. Set them up to live full and enriched lives
4. Communicate consent/withdrawal of consent

Thus, learning is about providing dogs with skills that allow them to make informed decisions and that help them feel in control of their lives and what happens to them. It has nothing to do with the acquiescence of groping hands or subservient reactions to our every whim.
It’s about centring the dog and decentring the human: what they need, not necessarily what we need. Although, to be clear, that isn’t to say that the human side of this relationship isn’t valued, but humans are already centred, privileged, and in a position of power.

5. Substitutive Consent

It is certainly true that we act on behalf of our dogs in important ways, too. For example, what happens in those emergent situations — life saving/life altering scenarios — where our intercession could result in a better life outcome?
A few years ago, Juno needed a splenectomy. I was unable to explain the pros and cons to her, the long-term benefits that would mean she would have many more happy, healthy years to live without pain. I was unable to ask her if she was okay with the sedation and anesthesia, but I could evaluate the ethical implications of my decisions (both the big-picture decision of surgery but also the smaller decisions made at each step in that journey) so as to have the least impact on her emotionally, and the most impact on her physical wellbeing.
As it stands, companion dogs in our care are our personal responsibility, and the reality is, we must make decisions that affect their welfare and wellbeing. It’s not always easy to make a decision that affects someone else so profoundly. However, we have the wherewithal to use our gift of foresight to reflect on the complex interplay of information and to make decisions on behalf of our dogs in situations where they cannot consent. It doesn’t mean that consent doesn’t play a role in the various interactions that may occur throughout such procedures, like cooperative injections or blood work. However, sometimes we just cannot accept the possibility of nonconsent. Probably the worst thing we could do to our relationship is ask our dog if they consent, and then ignore their request to withdraw it. But there are ways we can abate the impact of those unfavourable short-term situations, while providing the best long-term outcomes.

Conclusion

The content of this article is just a small sample of what I share in my book, Constructing Canine Consent. Hopefully you want to learn more, dig deeper, and consider the things that are difficult to think about or challenge your deeply rooting belief system. Deliberations are what lie at the origin of every great paradigm shift society makes. We deliberate, we think more deeply, we challenge perceptions, and we make changes. Like the dogs who have touched your lives in many ways, Juno — and all the dogs I have lived and worked with — has encouraged me to be better, think better, and do better. And, of course, because Juno is my foremost muse, my teacher, and my friend, she brings a delightful number of examples to my writing (as you may already know, if you follow me on social media). She is the epitome of everything wonderful about canine consent. She and I are able to converse across species boundaries in ways I hope everyone can someday. Though, frankly, the videos I see pop up on social media suggests we have a very long way to go. It is you, the trainers, behaviour consultants, veterinary behaviourists and other professionals who are the frontline message deliverers. We are the educators of society, of the people who love their dogs but often deliver that love in unfortunate ways. Let’s help them do better too.
To that end, as we transition from a narrow focus on specific behaviours to a more holistic approach that addresses both behavioural and emotional needs — such as agency, the provision of meaningful choices, and the development of robust interspecies communication — we will witness dogs truly begin to flourish. Already, dogs like Juno are experiencing the profound benefits of this shift. They are able to express their needs openly rather than suppressing them, and they gain a sense of security in knowing that their ability to refuse is acknowledged and respected by the humans around them. These dogs are being provided with richer, more informative experiences that guide their decision-making, allowing them to conceptualize and adapt their skills in diverse contexts. Ultimately, this approach fosters a more harmonious and mutually beneficial coexistence between humans and dogs.

Erin Jones is the IAABC Foundation Journal Director and recent author of Constructing Canine Consent (CRC Press, 2024). She has also written and edited other books and academic publications. Her PhD is in Human-Animal Studies where her primary research focus was, and continues to be, on the ethical dimensions of the dog-human relationship. Erin also has a BSc in psychology and anthropology, a MSc in anthrozoology, a Pg.Dip in animal welfare, is a certified dog behaviour consultant (CDBC) and Accredited Dog Trainer (IAABC-ADT), Certified Professional Dog Trainer-Knowledge Assessed (CPDT-KA), and Accredited Animal Behaviour Consultant (CANZ-ABC).