Training Your Dog to Ride an Elevator

The first time that Layla ever rode an elevator was also the last time she rode one. She panicked as soon as the elevator moved, plastering herself to the floor, and shook in abject terror. She refused to eat her favorite treats. As soon as the door opened, she startled at the beep and lunged out of the elevator. She took hours to calm down, pacing and panting. She also jumped at any beeping noise for weeks after (she would later develop a phobia about beeping noises after being trapped in my house for hours with a fire alarm chirping its low battery warning, and I always wondered whether this earlier experience with beeps had primed her to develop a full-fledged phobia with the additional traumatic exposure… but that’s a story for another day).

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Pan practices waiting for the elevator at a parking garage.

After this experience, we got a lot of stair climbing in. With patient work during low-traffic times at Clicker Expo one year, Layla got to the point where she could comfortably walk in and out of the elevator on a loose leash and could take food while standing in the elevator, but since it wasn’t an environment we encountered frequently I chose to just manage her fear and work on other things instead. It was easy enough to request rooms on the lower floors of any hotel we stayed at, and climbing a flight or two of steps never hurt anyone.

After Layla’s experience, I started thinking about dogs and elevators. They go into a room. A door closes. The floor moves – a very odd experience for a dog! Then the door opens and they’re in an entirely new place. For dogs like Layla, who have a strong need to make sense of their world through rigid rule structures and hypervigilant scanning, this set-up has all of the variables of a nightmare.

The good news is that most dogs can be comfortably introduced to riding in elevators! Just like any other sort of socialization, this is most easily done while puppies are still under 4 months of age, but even older dogs can learn to feel safe and happy riding in an elevator.

I usually start this process at parking ramps during off-peak hours. Choose times where there will still be a handful people around (for obvious security concerns), but don’t choose a time when there will be lots of people wanting to use the elevator. If someone arrives and wants to use the elevator you’re working with, give it up for them and wait for the next elevator.

Begin by going in and out of the elevator multiple times. Some dogs are weirded out by walking over the little space at the door. Practice your dog’s loose-leash and focus skills while you do this, clicking and treating for moving with and paying attention to you. Remember that you may eventually be stepping into an elevator full of people (some of whom may not be comfortable with dogs), so it’s important that your dog have the skills to follow your direction.

Once your dog can comfortably walk onto and off of the elevator, begin accustoming him or her to the automatic doors. Close the doors, feed your dog, open the doors, and walk off the elevator. Repeat a few times until your dog feels comfortable.

If all is going well, you may want to do a bit of play! Bring out a tug toy and have a game with your dog right in the elevator, or love your dog up if they prefer physical affection to toy play. We want them a little excited and very happy for the next step… movement!

Most dogs do better going up than down. I know some people who feel the same way, as they report that going down always feels like they are falling. So, start with a journey up one floor. Start feeding your dog as the elevator begins to move up, and stop feeding when the elevator stops. Then practice your loose leash skills as you walk off the elevator. If that went well, go down the stairs of the parking garage to the level you just came from, and do a few more trips up. If your dog seemed a little nervous, do some more quick in-and-outs with the elevator before you add in another trip between floors.

Once your dog is happy and comfortable going up in the elevator, it’s time to practice down. Go up one floor, then go back down to the floor your started at. Remember to feed your dog when the elevator is moving, and stop feeding when the movement stops. Continue to reward for focus and polite leash manners.

As your dog becomes more comfortable with the elevator, you can begin to take longer trips between floors. You can also start practicing elevator manners with other people or pets. I find it easiest to put my dog on the inside (between the wall of the elevator and my side) so that I can prevent him from wiggling over to anyone else, and also so that I can protect him from any person or animal who may hurt or scare him. Remember that it is always your responsibility to keep your dog calm and under control in elevators, and that confined spaces can cause stress (in people and animals!). It’s always okay to get off the elevator if something makes you uncomfortable. Perhaps the car is getting crowded and you know tight spaces make your dog nervous, or someone just got on with a frantic, barking dog trying to wiggle out of their grasp. Just leave, and wait for the next car. It may take you an extra minute or two to get where you’re going, but in the long run your dog’s comfort and safety are worth it.

When you’re a small-town lady from rural Minnesota, elevators may not be a big problem. They weren’t for Layla and me. However, having a dog who is comfortable riding in elevators can literally open doors. Being able to bring your dog to hotels and have her greet the elevator happily, getting the better apartment lease because your dog doesn’t mind the elevator (and you love the view), taking your dog shopping at dog-friendly locations because she can ride the elevator in the parking garage or stores, doing therapy dog visits at hospitals and nursing homes to brighten up the residents’ days… the more comfortable your dog is with elevators, the more places he can enjoy. And while doing a few extra flights of stairs never hurt anyone, wouldn’t it be nice to sometimes take the elevator instead?

[Mostly] Wordless Wednesday

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If I had known…
Oh, if I had known.
You could have had double dinners (and finished Trout’s uneaten kibble too). We would have gone on so many more walks, just the two of us, with lamb lung and all the time to sniff you wanted. There would have been no more diet, and so many more tacos. Cheese, too… you had such a special fondness for cheese. We would play find the squeaky ball all over the house, and I would laugh and clap while you taunted me with the ball. We would snuggle longer in the mornings, under the covers, and I would whisper how I loved and loved you to the rhythmic thump of your tail. I would look into your eyes and tell you how forever special you were, my best and brightest dog. My Layla.

[Mostly] Wordless Wednesday

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“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night…You — only you — will have stars that laugh!

“And then he laughed again.

“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure . . . And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, ‘Yes, the stars always make me laugh!’ And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you…”

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

[Mostly] Wordless Wednesday

I thought I heard you tonight. The sweet thunk, thunk of your tail drumming as I walked up the stairs from my office.
For a moment, I forgot.
I smiled.
I looked for you on the couch where you weren’t supposed to sleep. That was one of your favorite places.
The blankets so empty, but my heart full of your memory
and threatening to burst from my chest with the pain of my love and gratitude.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Nothing but my heartbeat, and the shadow of your soft eyes in my memories.
Thunk.
Thunk.
These moments when I can almost Feel you.

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On Losing Layla

“She was gone, and all that was left was the space you’d grown around her, like a tree that grows around a fence. For a long time, it remained hollow.” – Nicole Krauss

ARCHX Layla, BA with honors, Birch ORT, CGC, RL1X2, RL2X, RL3, RLV
October 2005-November 27th, 2015

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On Thanksgiving morning of 2015, Layla was naughty. She had been eyeing the beef bone in the puppy’s crate for days, and when his crate door was left open she seized the opportunity. She stole the bone and spent a couple of hours chewing on it contentedly. That afternoon, we noticed that she was a bit lethargic. She didn’t want to go on a walk. Then she started refusing food, something she’d never done before. She didn’t even want her favorite treats, cheese or peanut butter. She collapsed, and we rushed her to the vet. She fought so very hard under the care of a skilled veterinary team, but the hemangiosarcoma that had been silently setting up shop in her body was too much. She died shortly after midnight on November 27th, lying in my arms as I told her everything I had the words to say.

It’s taken me awhile to write this post, as I don’t really have the words to tell Layla’s story. She was my once-in-a-lifetime dog, and the time I had with her has forever changed everything for me, both personally and professionally. In her book “Heart Dog,” Roxanne Hawn describes the special bond that some people and dogs can form as “pathological attachment,” and I think there’s no better description. There was always that little nugget of not-quite-healthy to the relationship that Layla and I had with one another, a codependency that was mutual and deep. I have never been looked at by another living being the way I was looked at by Layla, and while she accepted a handful of “her” people into her life, the truth was that she always wanted to be with me more than anything else. I have cried every day since her loss, and I accept that this level of sadness is a healthy response to such a sudden and devastating change in my life.

Rather than focusing on Layla’s death, I try to focus on her life. Through my stories about living with her, she helped so many students and readers enjoy better lives with their dogs. She’ll continue to do so.

Layla and I had a special ritual every night, after everyone else in our house had gone to bed. She had some muscular issues that made her sore, so I would meet her in the kitchen and pull two or three bags of dog treats out of the cupboard. She would choose which treats she wanted that night, then we’d go into the living room with a handful of treats to do her physical therapy exercises and stretches. After her stretches and snack, she’d snuggle on my lap, her head in the crook between my neck and shoulder. I’d bury my face in her sweet neck. Our breathing would gradually come in sync. She’d sigh deeply (and often fall asleep), and I’d hold her. We’d sit like that for five or ten minutes, just Being together. I’d tell her I loved her, every single night, before we both went to bed.

Good night, sweet Layla. I love and love you.

[Mostly] Wordless Wednesday

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“Indeed, time is a sacred gift, and each day is a little life.”

– Sir John Lubbock

Marmaduke “Nose” Reusche – in memory of a good dog

Duke CGC TT, March 2002 – September 27th, 2015

Every trainer has a story about their crossover dog. Duke was mine.

Duke was adopted by my parents when he was 9 months old. He had been found as a stray and was never claimed by his original owners. We started training classes within a couple weeks of bringing him home, and my life changed forever.

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ramp1Duke introduced me to clicker training. He loved going to classes, and tried so hard to be a good boy. Learning wasn’t easy for Duke, as he had the canine equivalent of some sort of learning disability. He learned well in the moment, but struggled to retain new information from day to day. In spite of this, he enjoyed a steady stream of obedience and agility classes. The more treats, the better! He learned tricks and eventually even earned his CGC certificate (on our seventh try).

face4Duke was my first instructor in reactivity and anxiety. To say that Duke lacked social skills with other dogs was an understatement. Other dogs made Duke anxious, and he would charge at unfamiliar dogs on walks. When he met a new dog, Duke would hump whichever end he encountered first, the commissure of his lips pulled back anxiously, ears back and eyes wide. If corrected by the other dog, he would fight back noisily but without doing damage.

P1020088 - CopySlow introductions proved that Duke could do quite well with doggy friends, and the controlled environment of class worked well for him. He did well with a string of foster puppies and became good friends with Layla, Dobby, and Trout as I added new dogs to my canine family. At home with my parents, he enjoyed being the “only dog” most of the time, and viewed their cat Trouble with the mingled apprehension and respect that only curmudgeonly old cats can provoke.

 

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duke9Duke’s chief joy in life after food was to be with his people. A true velcro dog, Duke was deeply unhappy when left home alone and loved nothing better than to spend time with those he loved. Anxiety medication and stuffed Kongs helped to manage Duke’s separation anxiety throughout his life, and he eventually came to view his crate (complete with orthopedic dog bed and an ever-present stuffed Kong) as a comforting place. He would even sleep in his crate when his hips were bothering him.

duke11As Duke aged, he settled into a comfortable and happy routine with my parents of evening walks with my mom and sharing popcorn with my dad. He loved getting his butt scratched, even if it sometimes hurt his sore hips. He played with his quacking duck toy, shaking it angrily whenever anyone would leave the house. He barked – oh how he barked! at noises and sometimes at nothing at all. He would get stuck barking, standing in the living room and unable to see out the front window to know what he was barking at, but still fulfilling his self-appointed sentry duties nonetheless.

sprinkler2Duke’s love of food drove him to steal and eat a veritable feast of food and food-like objects in his youth, and despite some close calls (activated charcoal when he ate the bottle of ibuprofen, treatment for pancreatitis when he got into the entire pan of apple crisp, diligent monitoring until he passed the chunks of ceramic spoon-rest), food was ultimately not his downfall. He became all-too-familiar with hydrogen peroxide and would run when he saw the brown bottle come out. Stories of Duke’s dietary indiscretions became the stuff of legends. “Remember that time he ate ten pounds of kibble at once? He looked like he was pregnant!” “Or that time he ate an entire bag of Hershey’s kisses, wrappers and all, and his poop was festive for days…”

roll4Duke was not an easy dog. He was anxious and reactive and naughty. Duke was the best dog. He was the sweetest, and so kind with children. He was a loyal and faithful family companion who loved nothing more than to be with his people, in the center of a crowd. He didn’t demand attention. He just wanted to be included. He loved to sit on laps, all 70 pounds of him. He loved to lick faces. He loved to show off his tricks for treats – sit, down, settle (tail too!), balance up, and shake. He was not an easy dog, but he was a good, good dog. He was our good dog.

We miss him like hell.

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