I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent devoted companionship of a dog that you can get from no other source.
I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent devoted companionship of a dog that you can get from no other source.
You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.
My student’s dog lunges to the end of the leash, gagging a bit as his collar presses against his windpipe. His owner stops and waits, and within a second her dog moves back towards his owner’s side. The owner takes a step, clicks her dog for walking attentively alongside her, hands her dog a treat, and sighs in frustration as her dog immediately lunges out to the end of the leash again.
Sound familiar? This is a common scenario in training, especially with duration behaviors such as stay and loose-leash walking. Your dog clearly understands what behavior you want, but bails as soon as he’s received his reward. Not only does the click end the behavior, but your dog now seems to deliberately ping-pong out to the end of the leash as soon as the reward is delivered.
This is a frustrating problem, especially for a novice trainer who just wants her dog to walk nicely. It’s frustrating to have to stop and regroup every few steps of every walk, and meanwhile your dog doesn’t seem to be learning anything. If you have a large or strong dog, this just adds insult to injury since it can be physically difficult to stop moving forward when your dog pulls.
It’s at this point that inadequate trainers often switch to a “balanced” approach, incorrectly believing that the only way to get their point across to their dog is to correct the dog for pulling. They may begin administering leash corrections when the dog lunges forward, or may switch to a device that makes pulling physically uncomfortable such as a pinch or slip collar. Sometimes, this is the point at which a trainer will begin using negative rather than positive reinforcement, delivering low-level electric shocks to the dog any time the dog moves out of position.
All of this can be quite effective, if risky. It’s also completely unnecessary…. not to mention a bit unfair, as dogs do exactly what we train them to do. If your dog leaves after your reward, your dog is giving you valuable information about a hole in your training program. Bob Bailey is fond of saying that “the rat is always right,” which means that the animal you are training will always do exactly what you have taught him or her – nothing more, nothing less.
I’ll be the first to say that aversive techniques work. They wouldn’t still be around if they didn’t. And unlike some trainers, I don’t think every dog on a prong or remote collar is miserable or abused (although I certainly see enough issues with them that I don’t permit them in my training facilities). I also believe that we can do better, and I really struggle with the idea that the dog should pay for his owner’s lack of ability. If your skills are so poor as to make reward-based training a burden, do you really trust yourself to deliver fair corrections with good timing and the correct amount of intensity every time? All training requires a certain amount of skill, and if your skills are poor in one area of training it is likely that they could use some work in other areas as well. Don’t make your dog pay the price for your poor training.
So, how did you inadvertently teach your dog to become a canine ping-pong ball, and more importantly, how can you get him to stop?
In the next few weeks, we’re going to discuss just this question. There’s a reason why I can take your dog’s leash and have him heeling by my side, head up and attention locked on my every move, within just a few moments of taking his leash. It’s not magic, and you can do it too. Professional trainers have good timing, they’re good at setting criteria, and they reward frequently enough to keep the dog in the game. They also have good observation skills. These things are simple, and the good news is that you can develop all of these skills with a bit of practice. We’ll discuss each of these in more detail over the following weeks.
In the meantime, does this problem sound familiar? Where have you discovered holes in your dog’s training, and what did you do to patch those holes? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below!
Trout stands in the kitchen, head and stumpy tail down, back hunched. She doesn’t feel well, and she hasn’t felt well for quite awhile. Her symptoms are frustratingly vague for all their severity. She has episodes of gastric reflux severe enough that she attempts to stop the discomfort by eating whatever she can reach – licking fur off the carpet, swallowing grass, and most dangerously of all, chewing and swallowing pieces of cloth and stuffing from her dog bed or toys. She’s had several impaction scares, but as yet has managed to pass everything. She trembles occasionally and stretches constantly, trying to find a comfortable position. Her stomach rumbles and gurgles (a symptom called borborygmos, which seems appropriate). To add insult to injury, she has a raging urinary tract infection
She’s being treated by an internal medicine specialist, and we’re hopeful that we’ll figure out what’s making her feel so poorly in the next few weeks. In the meantime, she’s on a regimen of medications to manage her symptoms. Antibiotics, cranberry supplements, fish oil pills, famotidine, probiotics, tramadol, and sucralfate all keep her comfortable. She’s not an easy dog to medicate, though, as her appetite is poor. Luckily for her, I have some tricks up my sleeve, and the two of us have history together.
Like all puppies who come to live with me, Trout has been conditioned from an early age to accept medication. I start right away with puppies, opening their mouths only to pop a bite of hot dog or chicken onto their tongue. I restrain them gently, handling them all over their bodies as they lick peanut butter off a spoon. They lick baby food from syringes, and learn to be comfortable with the restraint positions necessary for blood draws.
All of this prep work is easy to do, and the results have a lifelong benefit. Every dog will need medication at some point in their life, whether it’s antibiotics for a minor infection or pain pills as their joints get old and creaky. We prepare our dogs for life by teaching them to come when called, walk nicely on a leash, and greet people appropriately. Why not also teach them to be comfortable taking medication and being examined by a veterinarian?
This idea is par for the course in the exotic animal world. You can’t hold an uncooperative dolphin or elephant down, and if you try to restrain a wild prey animal like a gazelle it may go into shock and die from the stress. No one wants to shove a pill down an uncooperative tiger or hyena’s throat! Animals in zoos and aquariums are prepared for medical procedures as part of their daily training, and I strongly believe in doing the same thing for our pet dogs. Just because we can get away with holding dogs down to get stuff done doesn’t make it right, and restraining a dog for the sake of expediency is always a losing battle in the long run as it just makes future vet or grooming visits more difficult.
One of Trout’s medications needs to be given at least two hours before and after food, which means that we can’t wrap it in anything delicious. The pill gets dissolved in water, then the slurry is squirted down her throat with a syringe. She’s not a fan, but she cooperates. She gets this medication every eight hours, so in between doses she gets two or three syringe-fulls of baby food. Since the delicious syringes outweigh the icky ones, she continues to accept medication with no complaints.
Pilling her also requires a bit of forethought. She’s compliant about letting me shove a pill down her throat if it’s necessary thanks to plenty of practice having treats popped into her mouth after I open her jaws. However, it’s always better to get compliance, so I try wrapping the treats in delicious food first. So far braunschweiger (a pork liver spread) is a clear winner, and she takes even the most bitter pills wrapped in a pea-sized smear of this. Canned food, cottage cheese, yogurt, hot dog pieces, Easy Cheese, and commercial Pill Pockets have also been effective in getting her to take her medication.
Like many dogs, Trout can be a bit tricky. She’ll take the pill wrapped in something else, but then spit the pill out and swallow the treat. If your dog likes to pull this trick, try feeding multiple small “treat balls” in a row. Feed a small bit of the wrapping (yogurt, braunschweiger, etc.) by itself, then a bit with the pill, then another bit or two with nothing in it. If you feed these quickly enough, your dog will be so focused on the next treat that she won’t notice the pill (or at least won’t have time to spit it out).
Trout’s a rock star about all of this care, but not all dogs are. If your dog is especially difficult to medicate, you can ask your vet about getting the medication compounded. A pharmacist will mix the medication with chicken, salmon, beef, or other flavor so that your dog thinks it’s a delicious treat. This seems to work especially well for bitter medications, and while it does add some cost to your prescription it may be worthwhile for the reduced stress on you and your pet. This works for cats too!
Note: I’ve had several friends and clients ask if they can help with veterinary expenses, which have climbed to almost 12.5% of my yearly income in the last month alone. If you’d like to donate, you can do so here through PayPal or here through the GoFundMe site. Your positive thoughts, prayers, white light, and other good vibes are also very appreciated. I feel a bit weird accepting donations, but Dobby’s costs last year depleted my savings account to such an extent that I’m incredibly grateful for your offers to help. I’m always amazed at what a supportive, caring community the dog world is. It’s a wonderful, warm feeling to know that people all over the world are pulling for my little white dog. Thank you!
Dogs respond really well to human laughter.
- Denise Fenzi
I love naming dogs. There’s a lot that goes into a name, and it’s often one of the first things we do when we bring a dog into our family.
I’ve named my fair share of dogs. Working in shelters and rescue for years, it became a regular task. Litters of puppies were oftentimes the most fun, because we would work from a theme. It could be music (Adagio, Forte, Pianissimo, Solo) or chocolates (Godiva, Ghirardelli, Hershey, Cadbury), but every puppy got their own name. Whether it was Link and Zelda, the Shar Pei pups, or Emily Dickenson, the sweet Pit Bull, the name was often one of the first connections that potential adopters made with their dog.
Naming a homeless dog and naming your own dog are two very different things. I learned early on in my rescue career that unique names were important for shelter dogs. There may be twenty black Lab mixes named Buddy on Petfinder, but there was probably only one named Baloo, and Magpie would stick out in a crowd of Maggies. Choosing a name that would invite questions, laughter, or interest was one of the best things we could do to help our homeless dogs find their forever home faster.
When I started fostering my dog Trout, she was known as Lucy Lu. It was a cute name, but she got much more attention as Trout, the homeless puppy who was abandoned on a trout farm. She also got a forever home with me, and I quickly renamed her Mischief.
Names have a habit of sticking, though, and I should’ve known that this would happen with her. After all, it had already happened with Layla. When I adopted Layla, I wanted quite badly to change her name. She already knew Layla, though, and would wriggle when she heard it. She’d had so much upheaval in her short little life that I couldn’t bring myself to change one more thing, so her name stuck.
Trout’s name stuck too, as much as I wanted to change it to Mischief. All of my friends and my boyfriend (whom she had decided was her forever person, regardless of what the adoption papers might say) already knew her as Trout, and they continued to call her by that name. I was one of a handful of people who called her Mischief.
Surprisingly, this worked out in our favor. Trout became her everyday name, her around-the-house name, and she responded well to it. Mischief, however, became her attention cue. Since she only heard that name when she and I were training, it worked as a homing beacon to bring her lasering in on whatever was coming next.
There’s a lot that goes into naming your dog. The first considerations are practical. Is the name easy to say and spell? Naming your dog Maquoketa after the town where his breeder was located insures that no one else will have the same name, but also pretty much guarantees that you’ll spend his whole life saying “it’s pronounced mah-koh-kah-da.” The length is also a bit clumsy. Four syllables is a mouthful when you’re trying to belt out a quick recall cue as your dog races towards a busy road.
Another important consideration is the uniqueness of the name you choose. Does it sound like anyone else’s name in your close circle of family and friends? One friend was surprised to figure out that her dog Kayla had a difficult time distinguishing her own name from the neighbor’s Bloodhound, Beulah. The “la” sounds at the end of the name were too close, and caused a lot of confusion. You should also decide whether you’re okay using a more popular dog name or whether you want your dog to be more unique. There are hordes of tiny, fluffy dogs name Gizmo or Gidget, but Grizzle or Gretel are less common. I used to groom Gwenivere and Galahad, and always got excited to see their names on my schedule. I was happy to see Sophie the Cocker Spaniel on my grooming schedule too, but always wondered which of the handful of Sophies was on the books until the actual dog showed up.
Think about the personality of your dog’s name and the impression it may make on others. It’s a cruel irony that I’ve met more one-eyed, three-legged dogs named Lucky than any other name, and have had several Angels come to me for help with severe aggression issues. Cujo may be a funny name for your well-trained Maltese, but naming your Pit Bull Lucifer just serves to reinforce an already unjust and unfair bias against the breed in people who don’t know how awesome they can be. Words have power, so choose a name for your dog that won’t cause others to subconsciously dislike your dog before they even meet him or her.
Finally, choose a name that actually fits your dog. Every dog is an individual with his or her own unique personality, and I’m strongly in favor of getting to know your dog as an individual for a few days or a week before settling on a name. Corndog was a fine name for a sweet, silly hound puppy whom I fostered, but would have been downright insulting for the dignified old Chihuahua dame who came after that. Apple, Mowgli, and Kip were a series of Rat Terrier fosters who each spent at least 24 hours in my care before receiving names, although I knew right away that Paddington Bear was the right moniker for the gentle giant of a senior Lab who came into my care after his stray hold was up.
Ultimately, your dog’s name is going to be one of his first and last connections to you. It will be one of the first things he learns, so choose a name that you can say gently and kindly. Choose a name that will make his eyes sparkle and his tail wave gently when he hears it, and then say it frequently and with great love. Say it for years and years, and when the time is right, whisper it to your dog as he leaves his old and worn body behind for whatever comes next. Make it an incantation, imbued with the life and the love and the memories that have transformed it from a shiny new thing to a powerful invocation of your time together.
How did you choose your dog’s name? Share your experiences in the comments section below.