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Le Canada, quatrième pays producteur de pétrole au monde. Les promesses gouvernementales jamais tenues. Le nombre de fois où nous prenons l'avion dans cette tournée de l'Ouest canadien. Mon VUS. Le steak énorme que j'ai mangé hier soir. Pascal a raison, c'est plus confortable d'intimer à nos voisins de se regarder dans le miroir que d'identifier nos propres angles morts. Alors on garde nos œillères et on se vautre dans nos routines. Quand ça se met à chauffer, on pointe les autres du doigt. C'est la faute à Trudeau et à son laxisme, la faute à l'Alberta qui refuse de se mettre au pas, la faute aux lobbies qui ont mainmise sur tout, la faute à Guilbeault, trop accommodant avec son gouvernement. C'est la faute au décalage, je suis épuisé.

— Du bitume et du vent by Vincent Vallières (Page 216)

An important principle in primate communication seems to be, "If we can't see each other, then we can't start something." (..). Turid Rugas, a Norwedgian dog trainer, call turning the head a "calming signal," and I agree that it does have a calming effect on the dog who sees it (although I don't think that dogs are necessarily doing it consciously to relax the other dog). Humans can do it consciously, doing what wolf researchers call "look aways" by turning our heads to the side when we greet a new dog or we sense that tension is mountain. You can also cock your head [to the side], which is something never done by a tense dog on offensive alert. Many mammals cock their head to gather more information about the world around them, and they almost always do it when they're curious and relatively relaxed. If you cock your head, you are signalling to a dog that you're relaxed, which can go a long way towards relaxing the dog as well.

— The Other End of the Leash by Patricia B. McConnell (Page 35 - 36)

There are many examples of how [our behavioural heritage from chimpanzees] can create trouble in our relationships with dogs. For example, humans love to hug. It's called "ventral-ventral contact" in the primate literature, and chimps and bonobos love to do it too. They hug their babies, and babies hug them. Adolescent chimps hug each other, and so do adult chimps when they're reconciling from conflict. (..). Try telling an adolescent girl, or any four-year-old, not to hug her beloved dog. Good luck. But dogs don't hug. (..). Dogs are just as social as we are, veritable social butterflies who can't live a normal life without a lot of social interaction. But they don't hug. And they often don't react kindly to those who do. Your own dog may benevolently put up with it, but I've seen hundreds of dogs who growled or bit when someone hugged them.

— The Other End of the Leash by Patricia B. McConnell (Page 1)

We are often oblivious to how we're moving around our dogs. It seems to be very human to not know what we're doing with our body, unconscious of where our hands are or that we just tilted our head. We radiate random signals like some crazed semaphore flag, while our dogs watch in confusion, their eyes rolling around in circles like cartoon dogs.

— The Other End of the Leash by Patricia B. McConnell (Page 1)

All dogs are brilliant at perceiving the slightest movement that we make, and they assume that each tiny motion has meaning. So do we humans, if you think about it. Remember that minuscule turn of the head that caught your attention when you were dating? Think about how little someone's lips have to move to change a sweet smile into a smirk. How far does an eyebrow have to rise to change the message we read from the face it's on—a tenth of an inch? You'd think we would automatically generalize this common knowledge to our interactions with our dogs. But we don't.

— The Other End of the Leash by Patricia B. McConnell (Page 1)