An overwhelming trait of sociopaths is that they are void of common human emotions. Besides having no remorse or guilt, they do not have the ability to love, feel compassion, or be passionate. They are busy building their following, spewing their manipulative lies, and feeling the need to be the center of attention.

Therefore, it would seem to infer that those who are genuinely opposite to the above — individuals with true human emotions, and are content with a few good friends over a mass of gullible followers — are less likely to be sociopaths. Maybe not just less likely, but most likely.

The Process of Elimination

Maybe the process of elimination would be an accurate determination of not only who isn’t but who may well be.

The Shy-Types

In very general terms, how about people who have a quiet disposition, generally stick to themselves, those who may be considered shy. At work, they actually spend their time doing their job instead of schmoozing with whoever happens to be in the lunchroom. Sociopath? I would bet not.

Volunteers

How about those who volunteer their free time to help others who are in need. And not those who do it on occasion because they know they’ll receive recognition for it, but those who do it all the time, because it’s compassion that drives them. Think of those who volunteer in hospices to help and just offer solace to those with terminal illnesses. Sociopath? No, but maybe saintly.

Dog Owners

How about someone’s relationship with our canine companions? Sure, people also have felines for companionship, but for this, I will focus on canines because of personal experience.

Can we assume that a dog-owner is probably not a sociopath? No. That would be a bad assumption.

My oldest sister, Kathy, my most evil sibling sociopath, has almost always had a dog or two. But since she and her family lived in Alaska from the 1970s, there were only a couple times I visited. In 2002, they decided to move to Arizona, and because her husband was going to drive their motorhome from Alaska to Arizona, I volunteered to join him for the road trip.

After I arrived in Alaska, I spent a couple days simply hanging out around their house before we left in the motorhome. They had two handsome dogs at the time, a Golden Retriever and an Alaskan Malamute. They kept the Malamute on a chain outside because he would apparently wander off. I believe the Golden also stayed outside, but he was not chained.

One day, as Kathy and I walked toward the Malamute, he got up to greet us. He seemed very mellow, since even though he didn’t know me, he showed no concern or aggression. Other than needing to be brushed, he was a very healthy-looking canine.

That’s when Kathy said,  “We’re not taking him to Arizona … I’m having him put to sleep.” My initial shock came from the tone in her voice — it was cold. It was simply matter-of-fact, as if to say she was taking out the garbage.

My response sort of blurted out,  “Why?!”

And with the compassion of a rock, Kathy said,  “He’s old.”

Not that he was suffering from anything, not like going blind, has arthritis, cancer, etc., … but simply “old.” (Hmm, Kathy’s old).

To me, he looked to be suffering from nothing more than loneliness. Even after he got up to greet us, Kathy got no closer than ten feet. Never once did I see either dog get any affection. Sociopath? Let’s see: No remorse. No guilt. No compassion. Cold-blooded. Unethical.

Less than a year later, in April of 2003, I was in Arizona and visited Kathy in her new home. Arizona was experiencing an early summer heat wave, as it was already 104° in the shade. As Kathy and I stood in their nice, cool family room, looking out over the back yard, I spotted their Golden Retriever, Cody. Cody was lying in some of the only shade available. For those not familiar with the breed, Golden Retrievers have a very long coat, i.e., lots of hair.

Considering how cool we were in the house, and how miserable Cody must have been in the 104° shade, I asked Kathy how Cody was doing.

“He hates the heat. He hardly moves. He’ll get used to it, though.”

Since I was pretty sure she would not let him in the house, I made my next best suggestion,  “Why don’t you give him a haircut?”

“Oh, no … are you kidding?! Cody’s a pure-bred … their long hair is what makes them a Golden Retriever. I’ve never seen any Golden Retriever with a haircut. No one does that.”

I knew there was no sense to continue the subject. Some individuals get dogs so they can use the dog as part of their public persona. Her response was purely self-serving, as she cared more about how the dog looked for her, than how comfortable the dog was himself.

I think her most ignorant remark was that she’d never seen a Golden with a haircut. That’s because a Golden Retriever with a haircut looks like a Yellow Labrador Retriever. Even though one’s called Golden and the other Yellow, they are about the same color.

Also, due to the fact that they are both Retrievers, they have the same basic head shape, ears and tail. I know from personal experience that a Golden Retriever loves getting a haircut in a warm environment. By autumn, most of a Golden Retriever’s hair has grown back in. I bet Kathy thinks she sees a lot of Yellow Labs in Arizona.

My other sister has had two dogs that I’m aware of. Both times, she searched out the oddest, most rare and expensive breed she could find. And even though those dogs lived most of their days in a crate inside her home, she would talk on-and-on about how utterly cool they were. And how expensive.

In all the times I was with either sister, never did I experience affection between them and their dogs. That’s because they did not get a dog for companionship.

What’s that make me? I currently have two dogs.

I used to believe that I had something in common with virtually anyone who also had a dog. I guess I believed that anyone with a dog had a relationship with canines similar to mine. I don’t believe that any longer. What I have come to believe, though, is: “I wish more people were like dogs.”

I also grew to realize that I have a unique relationship with canines, so unique that I often would jokingly state: “I must have been a dog in a previous life.”

I’m able to communicate with dogs that most other people would be intimidated by. Dogs that growl if you get too close. Dogs that growl viciously if they are made to feel cornered. Dogs that cower and back away if you attempt to touch them. Dogs who would prefer to avoid people.

Dogs are made to be this way because of their owners … very cruel humans who abused them. Those are the dogs destined to be destroyed because they are considered un-adoptable. Those are the dogs who need me.

My Most Recent Rescue

The most recent dog I rescued was in 2006 from a sign I found hand-written at a grocery store. No photo, but it stated a German Shepherd, about five years old, needed a home, and that if they weren’t able to find one, they’d be forced to destroy him. I already had two dogs at home, but this certainly seemed to be a dog in need of rescuing. I called the number before I left the store.

We agreed to meet on neutral ground since I had a male, too, and it’s difficult to have two males get along. My other male (WD), also a rescue, is now deceased. After rescuing him sight-unseen in 1996, he became the most amazing canine I ever knew. I saved him, but he also saved me.

My son held WD’s leash, and knew to pull him out of harms way if any aggression developed when the GSD arrived. After a short time, the people with the Shepherd drove up and parked right next to my car. When their dog climbed out, my heart sank.

I had never seen such a defeated, depressed, or lost-looking German Shepherd in all my years. An extremely proud breed without showing even an ounce of that pride. There was no bounce in his step, his head hung down, as did his tail.

We let the dogs stand face-to-face, while I squatted between them at their eye-level. WD was wearing a huge smile and wagging his tail, while the GSD’s head and tail remained down. As I spoke to the couple, I continually had equal hand contact with both dogs’ heads, and would continually stop and whisper to each of them. Primarily by the man’s statements, I could tell that I needed to rescue that dog right then, so he would not have to go back with them.

For safety, I had originally told them I would not be taking their dog without at least one night to think about it, so I needed to back-pedal and ask them if I could try him at our house that night. They agreed.

With both dogs still on leashes, we walked back to the cars, only to experience an event that none of us were even remotely prepared for. As we both opened our car doors, their dog immediately jumped into my car and had no intention of getting out. They expressed a lot of surprise, but to me, I felt relieved that he and I had already made our first connection.

Over the next 4-5 months, he was the biggest challenge of any dog I had ever adopted. He was surely the most abused canine I had ever known. What is the “challenge” with an abused rescue? The challenge is to assure the dog that he no longer needs to fear humans. And that no human will ever abuse him again.

He growled at me often, especially when I would lean up against him, so I leaned more. But whenever he growled at me, I growled back louder. It takes a lot of patience and consistency, but the rewards are immeasurable.

He has become the most mellow dog one would ever want. When I have taken him out into public areas, he loves the attention strangers give him. He smiles all the time, his tail wags constantly, all without an ounce of aggression. He never even barks.

And from our months of growling at each other, he’s become my first talking dog. He will actually communicate with sounds.

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