A dog may be snarling when I meet him in the lobby, but if his body is shifted even the slightest bit backward, I know that he’s on defense rather than ready to attack. No matter how much he’s growling and flashing his teeth, there’s little danger if I don’t put pressure on him. I’m much more concerned about the quiet, stiff-legged dog who stands still, shifting just a tad forward while he stares directly into my eyes. Dogs who alternate charging forward and retreating are ambivalent, torn between wanting to attack and wanting to flee.
