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Drama on a Leash

I am blessed to be able to walk my dogs in a park that runs along the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Unobstructed views of the Pacific, ocean breezes, and a friendly, neighborly atmosphere make this one of the many reasons I love living in Santa Monica.

On a recent 75 degree February afternoon, an otherwise tranquil sunset stroll was abruptly interrupted when an out-of-control Dalmatian mix nearly tackled my dog and I. I hadn’t noticed the liver spotted, 60lb bulldozer until the point of impact because his human was a full 10 feet behind, barely holding on to the end of a retractable leash. When I suggested that the dog walking next to me wasn’t fond of unknown dogs jumping on her back, this person’s response was “he’s a puppy. He’ll learn.” No “sorry my dog jumped on you and assaulted your dog,” no “are you alright?,” and no attempt to control her dog until she was 10 feet past us, with her dog straining at the end of the leash.

Unfortunately, this isn’t my 1st encounter with a human failing to take responsibility for their dog’s behavior while attached to a retractable leash. Far from it. Whenever I venture into public places that permit canines these days, I see dogs leading their people into all sorts of uninvited encounters. Not surprisingly, many of these situations end badly, with one or more dogs being pulled violently away from an ensuing skirmish, or worse. Regardless of whether or not anyone gets hurt, from that point forward the propensity exists for one or both dogs (or their handlers) to create future problems, due to this negative experience.

Of course there were encounters with unruly dogs before the widespread use of retractable leashes, but it was different. First of all, humans were rarely more than 5 feet from their dogs, so it seemed they were more aware of what they were doing, and thus responded more quickly. I also think being in close proximity increased human accountability. It’s much easier to look the other way or avoid eye contact when you’re 10 feet ahead of, or behind your dog. Walk in any park in Los Angeles long enough and you’ll see little brown piles of plausible deniability being deposited right in front of you.

Retractable leashes in and of themselves are obviously not the problem, but rather enable humans to make bad choices where dog behavior is concerned. I believe most people choose to be responsible dog guardians, when they know how to be. Standard, 6 foot (non-retractable) leashes are much better at communicating that message, in my experience, and should be required in any public setting where dogs are likely to encounter other people or dogs.

To Crate or Not to Crate: That is the Question

I can’t think of any behavior modification tool that causes my clients more consternation than the “crate.” It seems the human brain frequently equates any small, confined space with a box or a jail cell, both understandably uncomfortable images to subject your best friend to.

What most people fail to realize is that crates can actually offer a significant therapeutic benefit to anxious or frightened dogs, because in an urban setting, they're the closest thing to a “den” we can offer them.

Dogs are den animals. They feel safest when they can press the back of their neck, their spine, and their hindquarters against something solid, preferably under a low ceiling. Instinct tells them they cannot be attacked unexpectedly in that environment, and thus are able to experience deeper relaxation and sleep than is otherwise possible. That's why many dogs will hide under a bed, in a closet, or behind a couch during thunderstorms or fireworks, or whenever they feel overwhelmed. I use the analogy that this is similar to how the average human feels in their car, versus how we might feel in a movie theater or gymnasium. In a nutshell, close, confined spaces make dogs feel more secure and less vulnerable.

Regardless, many guardians feel "guilty" for crating their dogs, or tell me there's “no way" their pooch would tolerate a crate. If I can convince them to give it a try, and they introduce it in a canine-conscious way (dogs should NEVER be locked in a crate without a gradual introduction), most people inevitably discover their dog VOLUNTEERS to spend time in their crate, even when they're home!

During a recent consultation, I recommended unrestricted crate access for an anxious, 5 year-old Staffordshire terrier mix named Daisy, as a way of lessening her overall anxiety. Her human’s immediate, incredulous reaction: "You want me to CRATE MY DOG?” While I explained the reasoning behind my suggestion, the husband pulled out the wire crate they'd used for house training, several years earlier. At my recommendation, he tossed a blanket inside, draped a large towel over the top (to make the open wire feel more den-like), and walked away. Daisy immediately sniffed the front, walked in, and plopped down! That was all the explanation necessary to convince her people to give this a try.

I recently learned they've since gotten her a plastic "airline" crate (far more den-like than wire crates) and an appropriately-sized bolster bed for Daisy to snuggle up against. For the last 2 weeks, their increasingly calmer girl has slept in her crate at night (her choice), and they've seen no evidence of her visiting the adjacent couch. Daisy's never been permitted on the furniture, but several times a week for several years they've either found her asleep there, when they woke up in the morning, or saw evidence of her having been on the couch while home alone. This battle of wills wasted a lot of time and energy, and led her people to believe she was stubborn and intentionally misbehaving. In reality, all Daisy ever wanted was the security she'd been experiencing when pressed into a corner of the sofa. Now that she has access to her very own soft, secure space, she’s happy to sleep there, instead.

In my opinion, the benefit dogs experience from access to a crate greatly outweighs any negative association people might have with the concept. The type of crate used, where you place it, the type of bed you put inside, and how you go about introducing your dog to the crate can make a huge difference in how your dog reacts to the experience, so do your research or consult a professional for the best way to go about this. Equally important is how YOU feel about your dog being in the crate. If you’re anxious, nervous, or feel guilty every time you place your dog inside, that unstable, weak energy can influence your dog, and create a negative association with something that could be their sanctuary.

Open Door Policies for Your Pooch: The Art of Spatial Displacement

One way to determine where individual dogs see their place in a pack’s hierarchy is to observe how they move around the house and yard, in relation to other pack members. Lower-ranking dogs show deference by allowing higher-ranking pack members to pass through doorways or tight spaces first. Often, they’ll also vacate a favorite bed or spot on the sofa when a leader approaches, with little or no effort on the leader’s part. This is formally known as “spatial displacement.”

By contrast, many dogs excitedly rush past their people, bumping into them (or worse!) without a care, in their quest to be first out the door or down the stairs. Not only is this an indication that the dog considers themselves a higher-ranking member in their pack, it can be downright dangerous for small children and adults with balance issues. When dogs barrel through exterior doors or gates unsupervised and unleashed, a scary situation can quickly become life threatening in the face of street traffic.

Enforcing spatial displacement addresses the above and teaches a dog to respect personal boundaries and defer to human leadership. Because it’s a native behavior, dogs quickly understand your intention and will follow your lead, provided you’re consistent and calm. There are many ways to communicate leadership through spatial displacement, including:

1) Ask your dog to follow you through all doorways and tight spaces.
If your dog rushes ahead of you, call them back. Once they’re behind you, block the opening with your body for 10 – 20 seconds with your back to the dog, then walk away. No command or verbal reward is necessary, and will likely only distract your dog from the task at hand. My dogs prevent lower-ranking pack members from going through doorways on a daily basis. I’ve never heard one of them say “wait” or “good boy” to the other dogs at the end of the lesson, yet they manage to get their point across quite effectively.

2) Teach your dog to follow you up or down stairways.
Respect for personal space is never more important than on the stairs. Dogs can present a real danger to any person walking on an incline. Their lower center of gravity and additional pair of legs greatly reduce the likelihood of a fall, so they have no sense of the danger posed to taller, two-legged creatures. In order to explain that you want your dog to follow you up and down stairs, indoors or out, use a leash and calmly practice taking one step at a time. Only give your dog enough leash to comfortably walk directly behind you, and use your legs to block their forward progress, as necessary. Whenever your dog challenges you, stop and wait for 5 – 10 seconds before moving forward. As with any training, consistency is key, so the more you ask your dog to follow you on the stairs, the more automatic it becomes.

3) Require your dog to move out of your way.
Common courtesy dictates that when we encounter another being in our path, we should go around, rather than asking them to move. Not so in the canine kingdom. When a pack leader meets a pack member in their path, the leader moves forward regardless, even if that means colliding with the other dog. An actual collision is rare, however, because the lower-ranking pack member will most likely get out of the leader’s way, rather than risk a confrontation. So when human beings go out of their way to avoid disturbing a dog, rather than insist the dog move, in canine terms, the human is declaring their status as a lower-ranking pack member.

When you’re moving around your house and your dog is in your way, shuffle your feet on the ground, look straight ahead (don’t make eye contact with your dog), and keep moving. Your dog will likely move out of your way with little or no fuss. If you bump into them, keep moving forward in this way until they move, or you get where you’re going. Do this consistently over a period of a few weeks, and soon your pooch will be moving out of your way well before you have to ask. Then you’ll have a clear indication that your status in your pack is on the rise!

4) Own all exits.
I make a point of practicing ownership of the door whenever I walk my dogs, and again when I have visitors or deliveries. I continue to practice this behavior forever, because I consider it a matter of life-and-death for my canine companions.

When a human pack leader “owns” a door or gate, dogs don't cross the threshold without an invitation. Learning to master this behavior is as simple as getting between your dog and an open door, commanding their attention by facing them (your back to the door) while making eye contact, and blocking any forward progress. Anyone who’s tried this and not had success knows it can be much easier said than done. That’s because it’s primarily about the energy the person is projecting, rather than a command or gesture. It will be far easier if you already have a relationship based in leadership, but the act of “owning” can also teach your dog to respect your leadership, if they don't already.

If your dog manages to get out at any time, you would be well advised to avoid “punishing” them when you catch up to them. When dogs are punished after being caught in such a scenario, they associate the punishment with a person’s arrival, not with the act of leaving. Dogs live in the moment, so it’s very difficult for them to connect a behavior that occurred even a few minutes earlier with an angry outburst from their person. This is one reason dogs will continue to run when being chased by people who have punished them for getting out in the pas: they fear the person’s arrival. It's far more effective to teach a dog what you WANT rather than focusing on what you don’t want.

If you’re challenged with a canine that won’t wait at the door, a private consultation is an excellent way to understand this exercise and master your technique. In one or two sessions, I can show you exactly how to get your dog to learn to respect your authority, and listen to your instruction.

Teaching Old Dogs New Tricks

At least once a week someone asks me if it’s “too late” to change their dog’s behavior. Most recently, that included a year-old Poodle with house training issues, and a 3 year-old Lab who pulled relentlessly on-leash. Neither dog had ever been taught what their humans actually WANTED them to do, yet these people assumed their canine companions were “too old” to change.

I suspect this the result of a literal interpretation of the old adage “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Some people seem to believe it means once a dog’s more than a few months old, it’s incapable of learning. In my professional experience, there’s simply no limit to a healthy dog’s ability to embrace new behaviors. An 8 year-old bulldog mix named Gizmo proved this to me once-and-for-all.

Gizmo came into my life after she was found tied to an electrical meter with a 20 pound boat chain, behind a former crack house in Venice. Within minutes of being discovered she made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with anyone who might consider trying to remove her. Even before the property officially changed hands, the new owners asked me to come by and assess the situation. They wanted to do all they could to keep the frightened dog from becoming an Animal Control euthanasia statistic.

The first time I met her, she charged to the end of her 6 foot tether, hurling herself off the ground, snarling and snapping, mere inches from my leg. A few minutes later I watched a well-meaning realtor push a bowl of food into her reach with a garden rake. Rather than dig into her breakfast, Gizmo attacked the tool, swinging the metal tines wildly from side-to-side, while blood poured from her injured mouth. Even in the presence of a free meal, this obviously starving dog showed no signs of having any positive association with the presence of people. She did everything she could to keep us as far away as possible.

Despite her lack of social graces, Gizmo’s situation couldn’t help but touch the hearts of every dog person who met her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try my best to help her, so I immediately set about bonding with her through the universal language of French fries. Twice a day I sat just outside the reach of her chain with my back to her, and tossed potato wedges near where she was laying. Initially, she watched me from the safety of her “den” under an abandoned VW, but wouldn’t come out until I left. By day 3 she retrieved her reward while I sat there, but ran for cover before consuming them, one-by-one. Around day 5 she began inhaling them as fell on the ground, so I tossed them closer and closer to me, and she followed. On day 8 a miracle occurred - Gizmo gingerly took the first fry from my fingers.

Within days she would lay on the ground near me a few minutes at a time, so I could rub her spotted belly. Shortly after that I was able to remove the painfully heavy chain and relocate Gizmo to a dog run in my backyard, where the work began to teach her what life is like for a cherished pet.

By the end of our first month together, Gizmo trusted me enough to follow me into the great indoors. Initially, she adamantly refused to place more than her front paws on the other side of the threshold, retreating to the safety of the yard as soon as possible. Regardless, we kept at it. A trail of fries eventually persuaded her to risk a tour of my bungalow.

It wasn’t long before one of these indoor explorations ended with Gizmo relieving herself on the kitchen floor, so we devoted a week to understanding where it was and wasn’t appropriate to “make.” Within days this, too, started to sink in. I continued to keep her on-leash indoors for a couple of weeks, but never again had to remind Gizmo not to soil the house. Like everything else, once she got it, she GOT it, and was only too happy to oblige.

Many firsts soon followed for Gizmo, including her first vet visit, first bath, and first swim in the ocean. Along the way we mastered leash walking and basic commands, and the old gal became a permanent member of my pack. Watching her embrace each new milestone was a life changing experience for me, and convinced me that old dogs actually enjoy learning, they just do it at their own pace. They might be a little slower than a young puppy to embrace new behaviors, but keep in mind that on top of metabolizing new information, they have to overcome previous life experiences that quite possibly carry negative associations. Most importantly, older dogs have to learn to trust you, and communicate with you, something they may have never done with previous guardians.

Bonding with Gizmo was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. Over the course of a few months she went from the lonely, fearful existence of a crack house “guard dog,” to a loving, happy, obedient companion. When she smiled her mile-wide bulldog smile, or curled up for a nap under my desk while I worked, I could see and feel how much she appreciated her new life. It regularly brought tears to my eyes.

The vast majority of dogs awaiting adoption in shelters and rescues have never experienced the trauma and neglect that Gizmo did. Transitioning them into your home will be far less dramatic or complex, but no less rewarding. No matter how old your new canine companion is, there are a few simple steps that will help them to better understand the house rules, and help you to bond with them in a healthy, balanced way.

Killing Dogs With Kindness

I met Johnnie at age 8, shortly after he’d been re-homed. His new family called me because he’d been “a little nippy” with their granddaughter and 2 members of their house staff in the span of 4 weeks. His new family wasn’t terribly concerned about his behavior, and were quick to assume they were at fault. They told me they hadn’t had a dog in many years, and Johnnie’s previous home said he never had any behavior problems in the 6 years they’d had him, so the new home felt they must be doing something “wrong.”

As with most of my behavior consultations, all wasn’t as it appeared to be in the initial phone call. When I met Johnnie, I found a dog that was quick to use his mouth to control his world, and one that had almost zero tolerance for frustration. If he didn’t get his way by growling and snapping, this adorable, 20 pound terrier mix became a lunging, snarling, out-of-control bundle of aggression. I was immediately concerned about Johnnie being in a home where young children visited frequently, but his newly adoptive family believed they could “handle” his outbursts while we worked together. That was until he bit a family member whose only “fault” was being too close to the dog during a gardener-induced meltdown, a little over a week after we began working together.

Shortly after this incident, I contacted Johnnie’s previous guardians, in an attempt to better assess his behavior history. They expressed shock at learning he’d bitten someone, and reiterated that Johnnie had been a loving, happy dog, who had never shown any aggression in 6 years.

After 15 years of behavior modification work I’ve come to know one thing for sure: many people are in a state of denial about their dog’s behavior. People routinely excuse, ignore, and conveniently forget about repeated displays of aggression, even when faced with evidence to the contrary. For some people, this appears preferable to admitting they aren’t in control of their canine companion, and need professional guidance. As a result, taking what people report at face value would make my job all but impossible, so I put on my reporter’s hat in these situations, and question everything I’m told.

This is how it came to light that Johnnie had been aggressive in the presence of the gardeners every week for the past 6 years, but his previous family simply removed him from the situation, and left it at that. Similarly, he “didn’t like it” whenever he was told to leave the closet he frequently hid in, or told to get off of furniture, or just about anything else Johnnie didn’t want to do. When asked what they did to address these situations, I was informed they told him “no.” Nothing changed, the aggression didn’t stop, but the family felt there was nothing more they needed to do because they loved Johnnie, and when he wasn’t snarling or snapping he was an affectionate dog. In their minds, it seemed, using any form of discipline would be cruel because he wasn’t aggressive 100% of the time.

Had they been able to live with Johnnie until the end of his natural life, the choice to excuse his aggression would largely have been a private matter. Unfortunately for Johnnie, and many dogs just like him, that didn’t happen. When his family of 6 years moved to an apartment that didn’t allow dogs, Johnnie was homeless, confused, and no longer living with people who were willing or able to endure his dangerous behavior. Of course no one was able to explain this to Johnnie in a language he understood, so he went on behaving the way he always had, and ultimately injured 4 people in the course of a few weeks, and thus lost his new home, too.

When no home or rescue organization could be located to take on the prospect of rehabilitating Johnnie, the decision was made to euthanize him. As heartbreaking as this outcome is to contemplate, the real tragedy occurred when 2 year old Johnnie began displaying the behaviors that ultimately cost him his life, and no one chose to teach him how to behave differently. The earlier the undesired behaviors are confronted, the easier they are to change, in dogs and in people.

On the other hand, excusing dangerous behavior in dogs in the name of “love” always costs the dogs more, in the long run, as Johnnie’s tragic life demonstrates. Refusing to recognize or address behavior issues when the dog is young isn’t a sign of affection, it’s a recipe for future disaster. Even if you’re able to provide a lifelong home for an aggressive dog, can you imagine what it must feel like to live life so full of rage or fear that you’re compelled to violently lash out at any being or situation that’s out of your control? That’s the life Johnnie led, and while I’m sure his people had the best intentions, their decisions ultimately cost the dog they professed to love his life.

All dogs need training, and unbalanced dogs need consistent, compassionate pack leaders who will show them how to be calm, happy pack members. Take the time to teach your dog rules, boundaries, and limitations, as Cesar Millan puts it. You and your dog will be glad you did.

Dog Not Listening? Stop Talking!

Human beings are verbal communicators. Dogs aren't. Yet most people seem to think the more they say something, the more their dog will understand. The truth is, the more humans say, the harder it is for dogs to pay attention and discern which of the 42 words in a sentence is worthy of a response.

When human beings use language to communicate with a dog and the dog fails to respond “appropriately,” we tend to get frustrated, disappointed, angry, and/or upset. We take the dog’s lack of action personally, as if Spot were capable of premeditated revenge. The more likely explanation is that the dog didn’t understand what was being asked of it, and therefore never had a chance to “please.”

Dogs don’t have conversations with each other, yet they manage complex social hierarchies within a pack, and engage in new dog-dog interactions without incident, for the most part. Communication is vital to any dog’s existence, yet the human race is blissfully ignorant because dogs “don’t talk.”

If you want your dog to pay attention when you speak, choose your words and tone very carefully. Focus on communicating with your body language; manifest your intent and your energy in your actions. Humans frequently rely on a raised voice or angry tone to command respect. Dogs, on the other hand, experience angry outbursts as unstable energy. Instability equals weakness, and dogs don’t follow weak leaders. Yelling may temporarily interrupt a behavior, but the dog is likely too confused and too frightened by the noise and the unstable/weak energy to pay attention to the lesson. Blowing off steam ultimately keeps your dog from trusting you, and therefore respecting you.