Helping People Enjoy Their Dogs

It was clear to anyone watching them that the little dog and his owner loved each other. Despite all her frustration and her ineptitude, the little dog’s owner was trying her very hardest to help him. And despite all of his anxiety and stress, the little dog was trying to work with her.

And they were failing miserably.

Photo by Rosa Money

They had been failing together for five years. The owner would take her little dog to classes and agility trials and seminars. She went from one trainer to another, collecting a plethora of habits and ideas along the way. A patchwork of training methodologies and theories clung to her. She tried and tried and tried, and her dog tried his hardest too. And they failed, and they failed, and they failed again.

The little dog was on edge all the time. He tried to listen to his handler, worked his heart out for her really, and yet when it all got to be too much he couldn’t help lunging and barking. He truly couldn’t control it. The stress would spill over and he would crash and burn yet again. His owner would drag him away, raging and out of control.

When I took the dog’s leash in class and began working with him, his eyes cleared. His movements slowed and he started taking treats less frantically. He took a deep breath and shook off. I demonstrated the exercise for his owner, and when I went to hand the leash back to her, her little dog didn’t want to go. He tried to follow me away from his owner, and I saw the embarrassment and frustration and guilt cross her face in a raw and naked moment that broke my heart.

The owner had the best of intentions. The dog adored her. But the pure relief of working with someone who was clear with him, who listened to and respected him and his limits, and who was not themself on edge, was more important to him in that moment than those five years of pain and hard work that his owner had put in.

This is the challenge that professional dog trainers face.

Any trainer worth his or her salt can take a dog’s leash and help that dog. We can read your dog and adjust the exercise to perfectly suit his needs in the moment. If we’re any good, we can do this so quickly and make such minute adjustments that you won’t even realize that we’ve just split our criteria in half and upped the rate of reinforcement by 50%. You may not even be able to see the tiny changes in the amount of pressure we place on your dog, turning our body slightly to the side or moving a few steps away from a stressor. This stuff is automatic for us, because we’ve been doing it for years and we understand the dance that true training entails.

It looks like magic. And it’s meaningless, unless we can help you do it too.

The little dog’s owner was on edge and jumpy herself. She automatically tightened up on the leash and administered constant tiny little jerks on her dog’s collar (a technique she’d learned years ago) whenever she got nervous. The more she tried to control her dog in these situations, the worse he got. She took him to classes and trials constantly in the belief that if she didn’t continuously expose him, the little dog would backslide. She delivered treats quickly and imprecisely, not to mention far, far too infrequently to provide the amount of information her dog required to feel comfortable. Her dog was miserable. She was miserable. And they both loved each other, through all the misery and frustration.

This is the challenge of a professional dog trainer, then.  Not to make myself look good, but to give you the skills you need so that you can do that too. Paws Abilities’ motto is “helping people enjoy their dogs,” and that is my primary mission as a professional trainer.

So what could I do for the woman and her little dog? Frankly, I could be kind. I could be as patient with the owner as I was with her dog. I could help her change her behavior in tiny little bits. Just as a rehomed dog with a patchwork history may take months to trust a new owner, I would never expect a client who has worked with so many other trainers to change her ways all at once, or even to trust that changing her ways was the right thing to do. Instead, I could show her the possibilities and help her set manageable and realistic goals.

Professional trainers sometimes forget that human behavior can be shaped in the same way that we shape animal behavior. If you are dealing with problematic behavior in your dog, you owe it to yourself to find a trainer who will respect you every bit as much as they wish you to respect your pet. And if you’re working as a professional trainer and cannot remember to be as kind to your human clients as you are to their dogs, frankly, you need to find another profession. The principles that shape solid animal training: shaping new behaviors through successive approximations, building solid foundational skills, adjusting our criteria based on the individual in front of us, and using a high rate of reinforcement to cement understanding, are all equally important when teaching people.

I first worked with the woman and her dog two years ago. I did not forbid her from taking her dog to classes or trials, although I gently recommended against it and commended her when she chose not to put her dog into these stressful situations. I did not yell at her when she jerked on the leash or forgot to treat her dog, but instead gave her easy suggestions to follow that were incompatible with these training mistakes. I was empathetic when she admitted that she found training frustrating and disheartening, and adjusted the exercises in the class she was in so that she would leave each class feeling joyful at the success her dog had made.  And she still failed, but less often, and her dog still blew up sometimes, but less than he used to, and he recovered from these situations much more quickly. And they both learned to relax just a little bit more, and to trust one another just a little bit more.

This woman has floated in and out of our classes several times in the last couple years. She’s done some private training with me too. Recently she contacted me with a success story, and we celebrated her achievements. She still pushes her dog too far sometimes, and sometimes she forgets how to give him the information he needs. But she tries, and her dog tries, and they love each other. They’re much further along than they were two years ago, and they’ll be further still next year.

Training a dog is easy for those of us who have done it for any length of time. Professional dog training is difficult. Finding the compassion and patience to provide a safe, nonjudgmental space in which novice handlers can learn takes real skill, empathy, and ongoing education.

Training Your Reactive Dog

We’ve discussed what reactivity is and how to manage your reactive dog. Now let’s get to the meat of the problem: what can be accomplished with training? Quite a bit, actually! Consider Layla, who used to lunge and bark at dogs, people, bikes, and even lawn ornaments. She recently earned her ARCHX title in rally obedience, which required her to walk past many unfamiliar dogs and people in a crowded, charged environment, then work off-leash and sometimes at a distance from me with focus and precision. She was able to ignore barking dogs, chattering people, and the judge following us around with a clipboard. Outside of obedience, Layla also works as a neutral dog for shelter dog evaluations and Growl classes.

This transformation didn’t take place overnight, and it required diligent training and management. However, the rewards of watching my formerly anxious and reactive dog handle situations that previously sent her into a frenzy with confidence and aplomb are well worth all the work. Learning to communicate with one another has deepened our relationship and turned our training from a dictatorship to a partnership.

Photo by Gus.

Every reactive dog is different, but the general principles of working with a reactive dog are very similar. Here are some of the key aspects to keep in mind as you work with your dog:

1) Work with a professional. Okay, this may seem a little self-serving coming from a trainer who spends the majority of my time working with reactivity. But in all seriousness, you need to find a kind and experienced trainer who can either work with you in person or remotely (many trainers now offer Skype appointments or telephone consults). Not only will you benefit from having an extra pair of eyes devoted to your training, but working with someone who is not emotionally involved will keep you and your dog on track.

Still not convinced? Consider this: when one of my dogs started to display reactive behaviors, I hired another trainer to work with us even though this is my career. I could reel off the steps to solving a reactive behavior problem such as my dog was experiencing in my sleep, but I knew I was too close to the problem to be objective.

2) Manage stress carefully. Whether your dog becomes anxious or experiences “good stress” from over-the-top joy, stress hormones are hard on the body and may impact your dog’s ability to learn. If you know that chronic stress is influencing your dog’s behavior, consider taking a cortisol vacation.

3) Learn a new language. Dogs have a complex, nuanced vocabulary, but they don’t use verbal language like us.  The more we can learn about what their body language is saying, the less frustrated they’ll be and the easier it will become to prevent reactions. Do you know what a wagging tail, lip lick, or turn away mean?

4) Teach impulse control. Most reactive dogs have a very difficult time controlling themselves. Teaching your dog to control himself (as opposed to you physically controlling him) will give him the tools to turn his own emotional thermostat down if he starts running too hot. Games such as “it’s your choice,” off-switch games, doggy zen, and leave it are wonderful ways to increase your dog’s self control.

5) Make relaxation rewarding. Mat work, the Protocol for Relaxation, and bodywork (such as TTouch and other massage) are great for reactive dogs. Think of them as canine biofeedback. Many reactive dogs have a hard time relaxing, so help your dog learn to let go.

6) Change the association. In many cases, reactive dogs have been corrected or punished in some way for their behavior. Even if you haven’t ever scolded your dog for reactivity, this step never hurts. Changing the association deals with emotions by pairing pleasant things with the appearance of the trigger. Done correctly, this quickly results in a dog who turns and looks expectantly and happily at his handler upon spying the person or thing that used to provoke a reactive outburst. The Watch the World game is a great place to start with this.

7) Finally, teach your dog what to do instead. Nature abhors a vacuum. If you don’t want your dog to react like he used to, make sure you teach him some alternate behaviors that he can use in those situations. Whether you use hand targeting, a Whiplash Turn, the Look at That game, Emergency U-Turns, or attentive heeling, having an easy behavior or two that your dog can perform to earn a reward can make the difference between success or failure in a tough situation.

If you live in Minnesota, consider contacting us for private training or signing up for an Agility Unleashed, Focus & Control, or Growl class to address your dog’s reactive behavior. Too far away to work with us? Look for a Certified Professional Dog Trainer in your area.

If you’ve worked with a reactive dog, which of these principles did you find the most helpful? Is there anything you think I’ve missed? Please share your experiences in the comments below!

Is it really disobedience?

It was our seventh rally run of the day. Layla and I waited patiently at the start line, her eyes bright as she gazed up at me. When the judge gave us the okay to start, we began the course, my dog’s tail keeping time with the beat of my feet.

Photo by Robin Sallie

 

When we hit the third sign, I asked Layla to stay in a sit as I left her, and she popped into a stand. I asked again, and she went into a down. We circled away from the sign, then came back and she held her sit-stay as I walked away.

I had already noticed that Layla was striding short in her right rear leg earlier in the day, especially when she first came out of her crate. I had a friend watch one of our runs, and she noticed the same thing. She also wondered whether Layla’s left hip could be sore.

It was clear that Layla wanted to keep working. We had two runs left, both in our favorite class, Level 3. Not knowing whether she was sore from an old neck injury or something new, I decided to scratch those runs.

Because of our history and relationship, it was very clear to me that my dog wasn’t disobeying in the ring, but rather communicating. Sadly, this is not always the case, and I see many dogs who are corrected for “disobedience” when they are really trying to tell something to their people.

Remember, your dog cannot tell you where or why it hurts. He can’t choose which sports or activities he participates in. That’s on you, and it’s on you to make sure that your dog both enjoys and can physically do anything you ask of him.

If you use any compulsive training, you need to ask yourself very seriously whether pain or discomfort could be contributing to your dog’s behavior before you correct him. If you use motivational training, you better be damn sure that your dog isn’t hurting himself in his efforts to earn whatever reward he loves so much. Much like Layla will push through pain for the joy of working with me in rally obedience (and for the lamb lung she gets to eat after she’s done!), many dogs will ignore their physical discomfort in order to get a treat, toy, play session, or other valued reward.

Physical limitations can cause a whole host of problems that masquerade as behavior or training issues. Two of my rally students have discovered that their large dogs had hip issues after I pressed them to see their vet. One of these dogs would sit more slowly and reluctantly the longer he worked, and the other tended to “puppy sit” to one side rather than sitting straight. Had we approached either of these issues as a training problem and started drilling sits, we would have been causing unnecessary pain to these lovely, willing dogs. Putting these wonderful dogs into conflict by asking them to do something that was uncomfortable over and over would have been cruel, but knowing that they could have pain issues allows us to focus on working with them in such a way that we build their muscles and make the tasks we wish them to complete doable for their physical limitations.

Outside of the sports community, many behavior problems are caused by pain. Recently, I worked with clients whose elderly dog had begun growling at their toddler. The dog was clearly in conflict, eager to interact with the child but concerned about being hurt. The child would crawl on the dog, and he would turn away, lick his lips, and eventually growl. Once the parents took their dog to the vet for pain medication and started providing him with a safe place to get away from the toddler when he was sore, he stopped growling. He wasn’t aggressive, just arthritic. Growling was the only way he could communicate how very much it hurt him when the toddler climbed onto his inflamed joints.

When I consult with pet or performance dog owners, I frequently ask that they see their vet before further appointments. A cracked tooth, thyroid disorder, ear infection, or back pain can and will cause changes to behavior, and all the training in the world will do nothing if the physical problem isn’t addressed. I see a much greater number of allergies or GI issues with my anxious and reactive dog clients than with the dogs I see in regular training classes (and if you’re a researcher who could help quantify this, please contact me – I’d love to work with you!). Physical stress causes behavior changes: just think of the last time you were sick or hurt.

We need to be our dogs’ advocates. We need to give them the benefit of the doubt. Dogs are rarely lazy or disobedient or stubborn, but are frequently unmotivated, unable, or unsure about the task in front of them. Don’t be afraid to seek a second or even third opinion, either. Many of my own and clients’ dogs have been diagnosed only after seeing a specialist or sports vet who had more experience with the problem. Vets are only human, and no vet will get every diagnosis right every time. If you think something’s going on with your dog, keep pushing until you get an answer. You’d want those you love to do the same for you.

Have you ever had a physical problem masquerade as a behavior or training issue? How did you discover what was truly driving your dog’s “problem” behavior? Please share your stories in the comments below!

Scars

Layla was two years old when she was attacked. The other dog, owned by a friend of mine, was safely muzzled but was an impressive 60 pounds larger than little Layla. We were attempting to introduce Layla, who had wonderful social skills, to my friend’s dog, and the introduction went sour. Layla rolled over, exposing her belly, and the other dog muzzle-punched her on her abdomen. Had she not been muzzled, I hesitate to think of what could have happened. Layla screamed, likely a combination of pain and fear, and ran away, triggering the other dog to chase her. We were unable to catch either dog for what felt like forever, but was probably less than a minute.

Photo by SC Studios

After the attack, I took Layla home. She crawled under the covers of my bed and trembled. Her abdomen and the insides of her thighs were bruised and sore. After that day, she became very reactive towards other dogs, lunging and barking from even very great distances. She was especially reactive around large dogs and dogs that resembled my friend’s dog.

And I blamed myself.

Every week, I work with clients who are trying to help their reactive dogs. Each one of them has a unique story. There has been some past trauma, or there hasn’t. They know what precipitated the reactivity, or their dog has always been like this, or the issue developed so gradually over time that they didn’t realize what was happening at first. They failed to protect their dog, or someone else failed to protect their dog, or they didn’t know enough to prevent this issue. They didn’t understand how to choose a breeder or a rescue. They didn’t realize that their zoomy dog was actually stressed. They didn’t realize that their anxious dog needed medication to address a real physical problem.

Every story is different, but through each of them runs a unique thread: “this is my fault.” In each case, these owners feel guilty that they didn’t do more or know more or take a different action. In each case, they wonder whether things would be different, if only…

And they blame themselves.

There’s a quote that I have hanging up on my work station by Maya Angelou, “I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.”

I think it is absolutely normal for us to feel guilty about what has happened. Remember that guilt comes from a place of compassion: we love our dog and want the best for them. It’s also okay to let it go. We do the best we can in the moment, and as we learn, we do better.

Our imperfections are part of what make us special, and sometimes scars (whether real or emotional) are simply another way to show the world that we survived adversity. I feel guilty that I didn’t protect Layla that evening when she was attacked. But that incident was one of the many forks in the road that led us on an amazing journey we have taken together.

Had Layla not become reactive, she may not ever have had the chance to teach me how to listen to a dog. The lessons of connection, empathy, respect, humility, and compassion that come from working through these issues were painful and hard-won, but they have since served me in helping hundreds of other dogs and their owners who were just starting down the same path.

Layla had to learn too: she had to learn to trust me, to communicate her needs in a way I could understand, and to control her own impulses and emotions. I can’t ask her (and don’t want to anthropomorphize), but I’m pretty sure she found the journey every bit as rocky and frustrating as I did.

We all wish that we could do better by our dogs. I doubt they wish that they could do better by us. They may wish that we would walk just a little longer, or share our sandwich crust, or back off when they lick their lips and turn away. But their wants and needs are in the moment. We could do well to emulate that.

Do the best you can with your dog. Give him or her the happiest life you can with the tools you have. Give your dog the benefit of the doubt, and be as kind as possible. But when you’re tired and frustrated, give yourself the benefit of the doubt too. It’s okay to be imperfect. Enjoy your unique journey together, and let the scars of your mistakes become a roadmap to the paths you’ll explore with one another.

Missing Layla: the dangers of xylitol poisoning

Even with Dobby and Mischief asleep next to me, my house feels empty today. It’s easy to take what you have for granted until it’s not there, and today I’m missing Layla like crazy. I’m lucky that this isn’t a permanent loss, but only a temporary one. Layla is spending the weekend at the emergency vet clinic, and the house is empty without her.

Layla was lucky. Last night, she got into a pack of gum containing xylitol, an artificial sweetener. Had I not caught her eating the pack and recognized the danger, things may have turned out very differently. My house might have been empty forever. Just the thought of losing her feels like a physical blow.

Xylitol is an artifical sweetener frequently used in sugarfree gum, candies, and baked goods. It has some oral health benefits for people and is frequently used as a sugar substitute for people who cannot have real sugar. It’s also highly toxic to dogs.

Even a small bit of xylitol can cause dangerous drops in blood sugar. The first symptoms of xylitol poisoning are oftentimes vomiting, glazed eyes, weakness, lethargy or depression, and ataxia (balance issues). These can be followed by seizures and coma. Larger doses can lead to hypokalemia (decreased potassium) and liver failure.

As soon as I found Layla eating the gum, I gave her hydrogen peroxide to induce vomiting. While my other two dogs both threw up, Layla didn’t, and was rushed to the e-vet where they were finally able to get her to vomit about 45 minutes after she ate the gum. By that time she was feeling poorly enough to be cooperative with several strangers handling her, inserting a catheter and taking blood.

As of this afternoon, Layla’s prognosis is good. Her glucose and liver values are great, and she’s being kept on fluids and continually monitored. If she continues to do well, she can come home Sunday evening or Monday morning.

Layla was lucky. She was lucky that I recognized the danger soon enough to get her treated before she began showing serious symptoms. She was lucky to have a great veterinary team ready to help her. She was lucky that I have enough in savings to cover her treatment and hospitalization so that she could get the care she needs. She was lucky that she’s otherwise strong and healthy.

Not every dog is as lucky as Layla.The number of cases of xylitol toxicity continues to climb each year as this ingredient becomes more common as a sugar substitute. Many dogs don’t make it. Poisoning from other common human foods, including chocolate, grapes, raisins, macadamia nuts, and onions are also sadly too common.

It’s empty in my house today, but it won’t be forever. Layla was lucky, and she will be coming home. Please make sure to keep toxic substances out of reach of your pets so that you, too, can continue to enjoy the company of your best friend for many years to come.

The Myth of the “Normal” Dog

Layla has always hated to be touched. Even as a tiny puppy, she would wiggle and jump around in social situations, moving so much that people couldn’t get their hands on her. If she was restrained, she would snarl ferociously and throw her body about, biting repeatedly in a panic until she was let go. This made veterinary exams and procedures grueling. Petting was out of the question, and anyone stupid enough to try hugging or kissing her was likely to get their face bitten.

With repeated conditioning (pairing touch with rewards), Layla has learned to tolerate handling of all kinds. I can pet her, hug her, and even kiss her without worrying about being bitten. She no longer needs to be sedated for basic procedures like toenail trimming or ear cleaning, and even allows me to give her shots or express her anal glands when necessary. She stands perfectly still at the vet clinic for blood draws, resting her chin in my hands while I gently grasp her collar.

Layla tolerates touch, but she does not enjoy it. Like many people with autism or other sensory processing disorders, she appears to be highly sensitive to touches that most dogs would not even notice. Light pressure and casual touches always prompt stress signals, even though she no longer reacts violently to them.

Layla. Photo by SC Studios.

Deep pressure, on the other hand, appears to be very enjoyable to her. Even as a tiny puppy, Layla would crawl under the covers. In fact, this seemed to be the only way that she could truly relax. She can often be found burrowed underneath a blanket, dog bed, or couch cushion. She enjoys wearing coats and her Thundershirt. She also appears to love it when I slide my hand underneath her side as she’s lying down and gently press upward or scratch her, as she will lean into the pressure. Just as weighted vests and blankets appear to help children with autism “dial down” their nervous systems, Layla appears to benefit from any sort of even, steady pressure.

Owning a dog like Layla can be frustrating. Imagine having a pet who never wants to be petted! It can feel like a personal insult when your beloved dog moves away from you every time you stroke or touch her. When I decided to bring another dog into my life, I told all of my friends and family that this time around, I wanted a “normal” dog.

The idea of the “normal” dog is an appealing one to anyone who deals with behavior problems. It’s also unrealistic and unfair. There is no such thing as “normal.” Normalcy is a lie that we tell ourselves, and it causes so much harm. Think of all of your friends and family. Who’s the most “normal” of all of them? Who’s the most “abnormal?”

Normalcy is a mental construct that we build in our minds based on our culture and our individual past history, but it’s also an unachievable standard. There is no such thing as a “normal” dog, just as there’s no such thing as a “normal” person.

Many of the behaviors that we consider abnormal are in truth entirely sane responses to the artificial and unnatural environment that we expect our dogs (and ourselves!) to cope with on a daily basis. Layla’s aversion to touch is an entirely normal response for her unique nervous system. Another one of my dogs, Dobby, seeks out touch and relaxes the most when he can snuggle up with me or with another dog. The way that he desires and is reassured by touch is entirely normal for his nervous system.

In this same vein, separation anxiety is an entirely normal response for a social animal that is kept in isolation for long hours without being taught coping skills. Leash reactivity is an entirely normal response for a dog who desires more distance from people or animals that concern her. When we look at each dog’s genetic make-up, past history, and current environment, we can begin understanding why that dog behaves in the way that he or she does. We can move past the idea of normal or abnormal behavior.

Judging your dog against other dogs you have owned, other dogs of the same breed, or what you know of dogs in general does her an incredible disservice. She is an individual, and comparing her to some ideal dog prevents you from celebrating her as an individual. Just as each of your friends and family members is special and unique, so too is your dog. What charms or delights you about your dog? What makes you laugh? What makes you proud? Is it worth it to shove a square peg into a round hole if doing so will damage the peg?

Words have power, and I think we need to be incredibly careful how we use them. Saying that you want a “normal” dog implies that your current dog is somehow less than ideal, and primes your brain to accept nothing less than your idea of perfection: a standard that no real dog will ever be able to meet.

Layla does not fit into our society’s concept of a ”normal” pet dog. She doesn’t want to be touched, she opens gates and refrigerator doors, and she kills and eats any small critter she finds. That’s okay! She’s a fascinating individual, and I feel incredibly honored to know her. The relationship that we’ve built based on her uniqueness is special, and will never be replicated with any other dog. The more I listen to what she “tells” me, the more I learn about that wonderful spark that makes her who she is.

Case Study: Rags to Riches

Beebe came to us, sight unseen, from a rescue group in Tennessee.  We were given inconsistent information regarding her history.  The one constant was that Beebe had been in several homes over her three years and that not everyone had treated her well.

Beebe had severe anxiety issues.  She bonded with me immediately, but she ruined countless pieces of my clothing by jumping on me and carrying on uncontrollably whenever I would come home.  Beebe was fearful of my husband and almost everyone else, especially males.  She barked and charged as if she was going to rip apart anyone who set foot in the yard or came to the door.  The Schwans man said he would no longer stop if Beebe was outside.  She also had a fear of brooms, fly swatters, stairs, and being put on a chain.  She licked her lips a lot and spent much of her time with pupils the size of saucers.  She was usually in hyperactive mode, especially in the evening when my husband and I just wanted to unwind.

Even though my husband and I had owned dogs most of our lives, we had never dealt with a rescue dog and we were at a loss with Beebe.  If we yelled at her or tried to discipline her for her behavior, she would cower and promptly pee on the floor.

We thought time and love and a stable home would improve her behavior, but we made very little progress.  We tried melatonin, as someone suggested, but neither of us thought that was the answer.  And besides, it didn’t seem to make a difference.  After a year of constant struggle, we were at our wits’ end.  I couldn’t bear to let Beebe down by giving up on her, but we couldn’t take much more.

Then one of my rescue friends suggested that I contact Paws Abilities.  I was encouraged because I was told they had dealt with the problems that can be unique to rescue dogs.

I contacted Sara Reusche and she suggested that we set up a home assessment for Beebe.  I was very hopeful, but I was not prepared for how quickly Sara assessed Beebe and how effortlessly she got Beebe to respond in a positive way!  Armed with her bag of treats, Sara got Beebe’s attention and taught her a trick that remains her favorite to this day: “Touch!”

Beebe, my husband, and I learned so much in that hour.  We learned that Beebe needed to build confidence in order to allay her fears and anxiety.  In addition to general anxiety, she was suffering from fear aggression, submissive urination, separation anxiety, and just plain confusion.  She didn’t know who to trust or how to react anymore.

Sara taught us to look for signs of fear and anxiety: lip licking as a self-soothing behavior, pupil size, and body postures.  We learned to “read” Beebe, which opened up a whole new awareness for us.

We learned that disciplining her and yelling at her were the worst things we could do.  It reinforced her fear and anxiety and was very counterproductive.  Positive reinforcement, confidence-building skills (like tricks and puzzle toys), and withdrawing attention during unwanted behaviors were the keys to unlocking the beautiful and loving dog waiting within Beebe.

Beebe and I attended the Beginning Obedience Training Class to help her socialize with other dogs and people and to start building her confidence.  Not to brag, but Beebe was the star of the class!

Next we attended the Focus and Control Class so that Beebe could learn to calm herself in situations that would normally make her anxious.  She also learned to focus on me instead of becoming distracted.

Within months Beebe transformed from a fearful, hyperactive, reactive bundle of nerves into a confident companion.  Now she loves to go with us in the car and we trust her completely in social situations.  She gets along with other dogs and sees people as good beings who often carry treats!  (OK, I carry the treats and slip them one, but she doesn’t have to know that.)

Beebe was hit by a car in May and subsequently endured 3 surgeries and 2 months of rehabilitation.  During that time she regressed a little bit, but she never, ever became fearful of her veterinarian or his technicians.  As she rebounded from her injuries, she also regained her confidence and poise.  She is once again bounding up the hill with us twice a day, waiting politely to drink until the cats have had all the milk they want, and living her life as the best canine companion ever.

On August 29th, Beebe turned 6 years old. We look forward to many more years with her. Happy Birthday, Beebs!

- Sara Linker Nord, Mom to Beebe, the best dog in the world.

(Thank you so much to Sara for sharing Beebe’s story on the blog. She’s truly a special dog, and it’s been an incredible joy to watch her blossom into the social and happy dog she is today.)

Case Study: The Importance of a Team

(Thank you to Nicole W. for sharing Shanoa’s story in today’s blog.)

Shanoa’s story starts the day I brought her home from the breeder. She was 17 weeks old and I was thrilled to have an older puppy who would already be on her way to becoming potty trained and well-socialized. I thought I had done my research and picked a good breeder, but I had a lot to learn.

I should have realized something was wrong on the car ride home, when she curled up into a tight ball on the backseat and didn’t move or make a peep. However, she was my first dog and I didn’t know. I figured out pretty quickly, though, that I didn’t have a normal puppy. She was terrified of everything. She’d sit down and shiver with fear when we tried to take her on walks. She had diarrhea all the time because she was so nervous.

We knew we needed help, so we asked our friends with dogs for trainer recommendations. We got her into obedience class, level one, and also enrolled her in a local “boot camp.” She went to boot camp during the work day five days a week for a month. We asked the trainer not to worry about obedience commands, but just to help us catch her up on socialization. We even made some pretty good progress.

As Shanoa got closer to maturity, she started to exhibit some behaviors that concerned us. She was fearful of people. She had been going to the dog park pretty regularly, but started to have some issues with other dogs. At this point, she’d earned her CGC and “passed” obedience classes all the way through advanced. But she wasn’t normal.

The trainers that we’d been working with used a combination of luring and correction. When we started having escalating problems, we called in the trainer for a home consult. After watching Shanoa be “corrected” with an electronic collar turned to the highest level while simultaneously receiving a correction with her pinch collar, I knew we couldn’t do this anymore. It wasn’t working, and I couldn’t watch my dog be corrected like that any more.

I consider myself extremely fortunate because I stumbled upon Leslie McDevitt’s book, “Control Unleashed.” Even better, I found a trainer locally who was using that program. We had an evaluation with Robin and enrolled in her “Reactive Dog” class immediately.

We worked with Robin for about six months before we even considered medication, but we just weren’t making the kind of progress I wanted. I finally consulted with my regular vet, and Shanoa was put on Prozac. We saw some improvement, and continued in classes on that medication for about a year. Then we sort of hit a wall with training.

Shanoa had improved, but she still was very far from normal. She was hard to live with. She was exhausting. At this point, our trainer, Robin, had moved out of state and we enrolled in Sara’s “Growl” class, which also followed the Control Unleashed program. We worked with Sara and Crystal for several weeks, and both of them really encouraged me to work with Dr. Duxbury, a board certified veterinary behaviorist at the University of Minnesota. My own vet encouraged me to do the same. I was reluctant. The initial cost was pretty high, and I was worried that things were as good as they’d ever get. I was skeptical that seeing Dr. Duxbury would make much of a difference.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I wish that I had started working with Dr. Duxbury years ago. Under her guidance we tried several medications and found a combination that works well. In the last couple of months, Shanoa’s become a pretty pleasant dog to live with. She’s spending more time relaxed in the house, without having to “patrol” and without constant barking episodes. Even when she does bark at something (and she is a Doberman after all!), she stops fairly quickly and goes back to relaxing, instead of whining and pacing for up to ten minutes.

We’re seeing progress on walks, too. We’re able to pass people and other dogs on the street without a complete freak-out. Most of all, she’s happy. She’s the most relaxed and happy I’ve ever seen her.

Is there still a long way to go? Of course. Medication hasn’t been a magical fix. But finding the right medication, or combination of meds, was a delicate and complicated task. Medication has been the key that unlocked Shanoa’s ability to learn and improve, rather than continue her patterns of reactivity. My regular vet, as much as I adore her, didn’t have the level of expertise to figure out the correct combination.

Seeing Dr. Duxbury and working with her has been amazing. Not only is she a great vet, but she’s been part of a great support system that’s been so critical to our success. Being able to email her or call her with concerns, talking through different training ideas, and sharing successes is really important.

Working with great trainers is another critical component. Without Sara and Crystal, and Robin before them, I would not have been able to work with Shanoa. I needed a class environment to practice, and I needed another pair of eyes, or two, seeing what was going on with Shanoa. I needed people who were willing to help me evaluate different training methods, and to be creative when something isn’t working.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m optimistic about my dog’s future. My husband and I recently were able to take Shanoa and our other dog on a walk together for the first time in many months. My husband has not wanted to walk with Shanoa because of her extreme reactivity, but he was willing to give it a try since we’ve been seeing such nice progress.

It was a beautiful, quiet evening, late at night, and we didn’t expect to see anyone while we walked. We started down one of the trails near our house that runs behind several homes. There’s very little room beside the trail to move away, and I would not have taken it if it hadn’t been so late at night. But I didn’t expect trouble, so we went. A little ways in, a dog burst out of the house, barking and snarling at both of my dogs. He raced back and forth down the fence line barking at us. We were less than three feet from him and there was no way to get any additional distance. To my surprise, Shanoa simply looked at him, barking and frothing only a few feet away, glanced at me to ask “is it okay?”, and continued walking calmly down the path while he raced next to us, barking the whole time. I was incredibly proud. The rest of the walk was equally uneventful, and I couldn’t have asked for a nicer time with my dogs.

For us, the three-pronged approach has been the key to our success. We needed the right medication and vet care, from an expert in the field of behavior (Dr. Duxbury). We needed the right trainers, with the right methods who really, really know their stuff (Sara and Crystal at Paws Abilities, using Control Unleashed and BAT). And we needed a support system to keep me from giving up on the bad days, and to rejoice with me on the good days (all of the above, plus a great network online on the CU Yahoo Group and elsewhere). We wouldn’t be where we are today without any of these. Shanoa and I are incredibly grateful, and lucky. Getting the right help, the right team, is how success happens.

Thunderstorm Phobia: a Case Study

Since I adopted Layla in late winter, it was several months before I became aware her thunder phobia. The first time a thunderstorm rolled in, my 8-month-old puppy panicked. She screamed and threw herself at doors and windows, trying frantically to escape the loud rumbles. I held her in my arms to keep her safe, and she trembled uncontrollably at each boom. It was clear we had a problem.

At that time, I was relatively new to dog training. Initial attempts to utilize counter-conditioning techniques failed, since Layla was too panicked to be interested in food or toys. All she wanted was to escape or, barring that, to hide under a blanket, pressed tightly against me. She was inconsolable during these events.

After finding references online to the use of melatonin to treat thunderstorm phobia and later reading a Whole Dog Journal article on the same topic, I called my vet for advice. Melatonin is a hormone which is involved in circadian rhythms. Marketed as a “natural” sleeping aid frequently used by jet-lagged travelers, it is generally regarded as safe for people, although like all supplements should only be taken with a doctor’s (or in our case, veterinarian’s) approval. My veterinarian recommended that I try a dose of 1.5mg with Layla, increasing the dose to 3mg if needed.

The melatonin allowed Layla some relief, putting her into a state where she was still nervous but was able to eat treats. I began counter-conditioning exercises, feeding her a small treat following every rumble of thunder (yes, every rumble… even those at 2am). We used a similar technique when fireworks were going off.

Over the course of nearly two years, we continued to work on Layla’s response to thunderstorms. While she no longer panicked, she was still apprehensive. At one point, she had a breakthrough panic attack when I was working on the Fourth of July. In spite of her melatonin and a stuffed Kong toy, she attempted to claw her way out of her crate, breaking several toenails and splitting one all the way up to her toe. The blood-splattered crate looked like it belonged in a horror movie, and Layla limped for several days afterwards as she would not allow me to remove the painful split nail (she chewed it off before her vet appointment to have it removed under sedation).

The next spring, I consulted with a board certified veterinary behaviorist about Layla’s anxiety issues. My biggest regret is not doing so sooner. In spite of the high cost of a consultation, this is the single best thing I’ve ever done for my dog’s quality of life.

Our veterinary behaviorist recommended discontinuing the melatonin and switching to two anxiety medications, clomipramine and alprazolam. The clomipramine is a tri-cyclic antidepressant that is given daily, and the alprazolam (Xanax) is a benzodiazepine that was to be given situationally during thunderstorms or fireworks.

These medications did not sedate Layla, but they did cut through her anxiety. Her personality didn’t change at all, but she was suddenly able to make it through even noisy thunderstorms without freaking out.

Suddenly, the counter-conditioning exercises began to work. After each rumble of thunder, Layla would perk up and wag her tail hopefully, waiting for her treat. She began to seek me out during thunderstorms, happily bouncing up to me with a ball or tug toy in her mouth for a play session.

After less than a year of counter-conditioning exercises (which only happened during storms or fireworks), Layla’s alprazolam dosage was cut in half due to her great progress. Six months later, we discontinued it altogether except for during especially noisy fireworks.

To this day, Layla no longer shows any concern during even the worst thunderstorms. In fact, she usually sleeps straight through them! She is likewise unconcerned about booming fireworks (although whistling ones, which appear to hurt her ears, do still bother her). Her calm example has also helped countless foster dogs relax during storms.

Recently, my new puppy began barking and trembling during loud thunder booms. Before her anxiety reached critical levels, I began doling out “thunder treats” to all three dogs, tossing a piece of hot dog or string cheese to each dog following every rumble of thunder. Layla enjoyed the treats, but was somewhat bored by the whole game, lying on her bed with her head on her paws. After a couple sessions, the puppy began reacting to thunder with tail wags and happy body language instead of uncertainty, and we’ve now reduced these sessions to sporadic reminders.

While several of the details in Layla’s case are unusual (she was very young to show such a strong phobic response, and her initial frantic reaction of trying to escape is much different than the subdued and cowering response many dogs show), her case is not so different from many of my clients. Getting a veterinary behaviorist on board to prescribe the appropriate medications allowed Layla to reach a state where she was no longer too panicked to learn, and once that learning had taken place we were able to reduce and eventually eliminate that medication (she is still on a daily dose of a different medication for unrelated anxiety issues).

Thunderstorm phobia is excruciating for many dogs, but it doesn’t have to be. Like Layla, even the worst cases can be improved with a dedicated team made up of the dog’s owner, veterinary behaviorist, and trainer. Your dog does not have to suffer: help is available. If your dog is distressed by thunderstorms or fireworks, please get them the help they need. It will all be worth it the first time you watch your dog sleep through a thunderstorm, completely unconcerned by the noise surrounding them.

Relationship Q’s: Listening to Your Dog

Recently, several Paws Abilities instructors and students attended an APDT Rally Trial. During this successful weekend, we had many brags. However, not every moment has to do with ribbons and awards. I’d like to write about one of these today.

I’ve written about Dobby on this blog before. Dobby is an adolescent mixed breed (I call him a “Minnesota White-Toed Chipmunk Dog”). He came to me as a very fearful dog, pancaking his belly to the floor and peeing all over himself if he was so much as looked at. Dobby’s come a long way, and I’m incredibly proud of his progress. True to his nature, he was both earnest and enthusiastic during his time in the rally ring last weekend, trying his hardest to do as I asked. While I certainly have some further training to do with him in order to solidify his understanding of the rally game, he scored well in his first run, earning 209 out of a possible 210 points.

See for yourself here:

If there’s one characteristic that defines Dobby, it’s how very hard he tries to be right. This is a dog who desperately wants to do well, a trait that can be both a blessing and an enormous responsibility. Because of the relationship we’ve formed through training, Dobby will try with all his might to work through some pretty intense fear or stress if I ask him to.

Many clients come to me with dogs who are very similar to Dobby. These dogs are sensitive to the environment, to people, to other dogs. They worry, and they feel the need to be watchful in new situations. If the pressure becomes too much, they react by withdrawing into their shell or by exploding into an impressive series of barks and growls while lunging at the end of their leash. Some dogs, Dobby included, may bite if they feel sufficiently terrified and trapped. These dogs require their owners to support them, to protect them, and to communicate with them. Most importantly, though, these dogs require their owners to listen to them.

Working with a fearful dog, especially one with whom you have a strong relationship based on trust such as Dobby’s and mine, is an enormous responsibility. While we may understand that the things our dog finds frightening are harmless, our dog doesn’t feel that way. Forcing them to face their fears head-on because we feel those fears are silly damages our relationship and doesn’t solve the underlying problem. Fears and phobias are sticky things, as anyone who’s ever felt afraid yourself understands. If you’re terrified of spiders, you’re not going to be okay with me placing a tarantula on your lap, even if I laugh at you and tell you that the tarantula can’t hurt you.

Our first responsibility when working with a fearful dog is always to that dog himself. Silly as his fears may seem to us, they are very real to him. When Dobby entered the rally ring later in the day, I could immediately tell that he was more concerned than before. Why he was concerned is immaterial, and I honestly couldn’t say. We had the same judge, and while we had changed rings we were in the same building. The area was no busier than the one we had been in before. While I may not know his reasons, Dobby told me by his reactions that he was uncomfortable.

Check out his body language in this second video:

In this later run, Dobby felt the need to look around much more than before. He was sometimes slow to respond to cues, even needing a second cue to sit at one point because he was so busy looking for danger. He was conflicted, unable to devote as much attention to his performance because he felt compelled to keep an eye on the judge, the exhibitors, and everything else that was going on.

Many people would consider Dobby’s performance in this later run to be a training issue. I disagree. A fearful dog such as this loses focus, not because he doesn’t understand how to focus on his handler, but because his fear is forcing him to watch for danger. The lack of focus is a symptom, and the best way to treat it is to treat the underlying cause. Just as a cough suppressant doesn’t cure pneumonia, training the dog to watch you more closely in scary settings doesn’t cure the underlying fear issue, only masking it for a short while and setting the dog up to feel more pressured and conflicted. Dobby’s lack of focus here was not a training issue, but rather a confidence one. Because he didn’t feel safe and comfortable, he couldn’t give the performance he would otherwise be capable of.

So, what’s the best way to work with a dog like this? In Dobby’s case, I ended our run early. His performance wasn’t awful, and we certainly would have earned a qualifying score, probably in the lower 190′s. Because of his training and relationship with me, Dobby would have continued trying to do as I asked in the ring. However, asking him to remain in that situation where he was clearly uncomfortable would not have been fair to him. Many people were surprised when I walked out halfway through the course, since Dobby wasn’t doing as poorly as some of the other dogs who had already gone. This was immaterial.

The bottom line is that rally obedience (and every other dog sport out there) is a game that we play with our dogs. Our dogs don’t care about the ribbons, the titles, or the bragging rights. They care about doing something with their person. If my dog is not having as much or more fun than I am, I owe it to him to listen to what he’s saying. In Dobby’s case, he was telling me that he wanted to leave. Treats and praise were less important to him than getting away from the uncomfortable situation.

Working with a fearful dog is an enormous responsibility. By putting Dobby into a situation where he felt concerned, I was stepping onto dangerous ground. Trust is a precious and fragile thing, and each time we overface our dogs, we begin to erode that trust. By listening to what my dog was telling me and aborting our run, I was protecting that oh-so-sacred responsibility that my dog has granted me. I was showing him that he could depend on me to listen to him and to put his feelings first.

After we left the ring, I took Dobby for a long walk outside, where he decompressed by sniffing around, rolling on his back in the grass, and playing with a couple dog friends. We ended our day on this positive note, with Dobby feeling comfortable and content. I couldn’t be more proud of his ability to communicate with me and to bounce back from situations that formerly would have left him pancaked in fear.

After Dobby’s last run, a student asked me whether I felt her dog was too stressed in the ring. My answer to her was that I couldn’t answer that question. Every dog is different, and a more confident dog may do absolutely fine with the level of stress that Dobby exhibited. Furthermore, a year ago I wouldn’t have gone into the ring with Dobby if he showed some of the displacement signals apparent on the video, because he was much more fragile then. Only you can examine the relationship you have with your dog, and only you can determine what is best for that individual dog in that moment of time.

Regardless of which sport we choose to play in with our dogs (or whether we decide to do any sports at all), listening is the most vital skill we can bring into the ring. This applies to everyday life just as much as to any sport: vet visits, walks in the park, and trips into the pet store all provide us with the opportunity to support and communicate with our dog. Know your dog. Stop demanding, and start listening. You may be surprised by what you hear back in return.