Fatphobia in Dog Training: Resistance to Using Food

Note: thank you so much to Bailey Stickney for allowing us to cross-post this wonderful piece from her blog.

I was engaging in therapy remotely a few years ago. I was on Zoom in my house, and I had a board and train client at the time. Most of my board and trains are working on impulse control and just overall refraining from terrorizing the house when someone is not paying attention to the dog 100% of the time. So I was sort of talking to my (ex)therapist and tossing treats to this dog lying on his mat every so often. The therapist asked me what I was doing. I told him I was training a dog, and he responded. His tone was shocking, especially coming from a therapist that has a couple of specialties in childhood development and in teaching parents how to parent with positive reinforcement. It was just so weird; his tone got really dark and he said, “oh he’s going to get fat.” 
 
That was his first – and possibly only – concern. He was so worried that this dog (a dog that he doesn’t know, and who’s owner paid me – a professional dog trainer – good money to train), would get fat. The longer I think about it, the crazier it feels.  He is a mental health professional, and he’s still in this mindset. That’s the state we’re working in here. 
 
I am sure that, like many a layperson, this therapist didn’t realize the dog’s regular calories could be used to do the training. The dog has to eat something every day, right? Why wouldn’t we put that to use? But still, it was absolutely crazy that I had to take time out of my therapy session that I paid for to educate this man, and eventually to tell this therapist to mind his own business.  

I think about this interaction often, and I can’t help but make the connection to fatphobia in America. Of course the resistance to using food to train dogs is rooted in our own fatphobia!  

Another time, I was walking dogs for a local rescue. We usually had one or two dogs with some pretty severe behavior problems. I’m thinking of a particular dog – we’ll call her Gretta. Gretta must have been at the building for about a year. She had some dangerous behavior problems, but one of the milder issues was lunging at cars while out on walks. Even on leash, she almost got hit several times! She pulled the leash out of many a dog-walker’s hands as well. We implemented a training plan that included pairing her favorite treats with the sight of cars. It worked! It was easy to walk her around cars after a few weeks’ worth of training. Towards the end of her stay in the shelter, Gretta started to little chunky, but she was still functional and joyful.

I was talking with the shelter coordinator because she was complaining about how fat Greta was. I said, “well I mean we’re feeding her a lot at meal times.” It was a lot. I remember thinking “this is twice what I feed my dogs of the same weight” – 4 cups a day. So I just suggested that we could reduce the regular food at mealtime. The coordinator looked at me with a sharpness in her eyes and said, “we need to cut down on her treats.” I was flabbergasted. The training treats had made her walkable in just a couple of weeks! It was dangerous to walk her before, and it was not dangerous to walk her with the treats. Fatphobia is so strong that we had this shelter manager more worried about Gretta being fat than the way her life was positively impacted through the use of positive training with food. This shelter manager was more concerned about having a fat dog than she was for the of the safety of the volunteers that were walking this dog.  

It is downright dangerous; as a society, we’re willing to sacrifice safety to avoid fatness. I hope to do better from within my company. 
 
So when we are working with the general public, who believe that food and fat are scary, we may need to reassure them that things will be okay. We will need to teach our clients that we can use their dog’s regular calories, and we don’t necessarily need to add extra calories to their diet. We will probably have to change how their dog receives their calories. Smaller dogs may have to get all or most of their calories from training. Larger dogs may be able to receive smaller meals so we can use the rest for training.  Some dogs will happily work for their regular kibble (I have one such dog, and I sure do feel lucky). Of course, we need to use food that is reinforcing to the dog in front of us, so if that dog will not work for their kibble, then maybe we can find a wet dog food and deliver it from a squeezable food tube. This way, your dog is getting something delicious and a complete, nutritious meal. This should help the general public feel better about using food to train their dogs.

I’ll end with a mantra of mine: “there are worse things to be than fat.” It’s not the worst thing if your dog is chubby, and it’s not the worst thing if you’re fat. There’s lots of lots and lots of things that go into weight. There are tons of people that can eat and eat and eat and eat and eat without gaining any weight. It’s the same with dogs! There are also people and dogs that can eat almost nothing and stay large. Weight is complicated. It’s not the most important thing, and we can focus on creating joyful, functional lives without worrying about weight.

About the author:  
I’m a fat person. I don’t eat very much. I really don’t consume many calories. I’ve also never owned a fat dog. I feed my dogs training treats all day, and they are not fat. I give them two meals each day plus training treats throughout the day. And they’re not fat. We can let go of some this fear; it’s not helpful. Genetics are a Whole Thing, and I personally will choose to live a functional, joyful life over a thin life.

You can learn more about Bailey, as well as the other Paws Abilities dog trainers, here!

The Power of Nothing: When Doing Nothing is Better than Doing Something

This post, written by the brilliant Bailey Stickney and reposted with permission from her blog, contains three examples where giving up some control was a better solution than exerting control over a situation.

Mason going on a walk (without screaming!), photo by Bailey Stickney

1. My cat used to race into the garage any time the opportunity arose. 
 
There are a lot of hiding places for a cat in my garage, and things aren’t stored in there very safely. There are boxes stacked precariously, and I worry they could fall and crush him. When we first moved in here, there were leftover chemicals and other stuff from the previous owners that I was intensely worried about.   
 
Because he is a normal, curious cat, and the garage was off-limits for him, he would race in there any chance he got. And he did not want to come out. He refused to be found. The harder we tried to get him to come out, the deeper he’d hide.  
 
Some years have gone by, and I am a better trainer now. My garage is still a mess, but it is a bit safer, and I don’t feel as desperate to keep him out of there. I’ve given up the idea of tightly controlling this cat, and it has paid off!  
 
I don’t try to block his access to that garage anymore. When he goes in, I don’t make it a big deal at all. When he comes out he gets a great treat. Now he doesn’t really care about going in the garage anymore. When he does go in the garage, he goes in with me, and follows me out when I leave. And then he gets his treat. A small price to pay for safety.  
 
The same thing happened with the yard. I used to really worry about him running away (because he did run away one time) Again, I tried to block his access to the yard, but that just made him try harder, and he refused to be caught when he did get out. Now I let him go out if he chooses, and I just reward him handsomely when he comes in. I also reward him every time the door opens; he gets a treat every time I let the dogs out. These days, if the door is open, he may dash outside, but his main goal is to immediately dash back inside. It is really quite funny – he’s not trying to get outside, he’s trying to come back inside so that he can get a treat! 
 
I had to give up my perception of control in order to gain actual control of my cat. 

 
—-  

 
2. I’m not one to say that owners and humans cause a lot of behavior problems, but resource guarding is one area where we tend to make it worse. 
 
We’ll see this often in gun dogs (retrievers, pointers, spaniels, setters, etc.). These dogs naturally like to have things in their mouths. And they are dogs, so they like to put gross things in their mouths. Things like dirty underwear and dirty socks. Humans usually don’t like this because it’s gross, and we also don’t want them to wreck our stuff. So when we see them carrying our stuff, we quickly try to take it away from them.  
 
And right here is where so many things happen that just make it all worse.  
 
As humans, we are probably doing something else when our stuff gets grabbed. We might be working, eating, watching TV, or maybe reading.  But when we notice that the dog has a Thing, our attention quickly shifts from whatever we were doing to the dog. If the dog likes having your eyes on them, the dog has just been reinforced for taking a Thing. AND THEN! We play a game of chase! So that’s fun too!! But we create a lot of conflict when we catch up to the dog. We might grab the collar, use an unpleasant tone of voice, pin them down, rip the item out of their mouth, manipulate their jaw, etc.  

As difficult as it may be, it is almost always better to just ignore a dog that has stolen an item. Paying attention to it is likely to make that item feel more valuable. Instead, we might grab a more appropriate toy and make a big deal about how special it is, play with it by ourselves, and before you know it, the dog will probably decide that the appropriate toy is more valuable than the stolen item. This is, of course, so much easier when the stuff you really care about is put up out of reach of puppies and adolescent dogs.  
 
 —-

3. Now I’m going to talk about a mistake that I made. I was speaking at a 4H class. The library was so kind to let us have dogs in the basement. It was orientation night, and the children were not supposed to bring their dogs. I brought Mason to do some demos because he is excellent with people, and he is safe with dogs, but he is… loud. He’ll scream and scream and scream and scream if they can’t meet. It’s very off-putting, and it can be very scary if you don’t know him. 
 
It was just my luck that one of the parents either didn’t see the e-mail or chose to ignore the instructions, and brought a tiny puppy. It was very small, and very cute. They hid it in their coat, and Mason made it through half of the class without realizing that another dog was there.  
 
But I knew the dog was there, and I should have just brought him to my car and completed the lesson without a demo dog. But I thought “oh, if that puppy just stays in their coat, Mason will never know, and I can teach the lesson as planned.” Alas, the puppy did not stay in their coat.  
 
I made three mistakes:  

1.) I probably should not have brought Mason into a space that’s known for requiring quiet participation.
2.) I should not have trusted that parents and kids would abide by our rules. 
3.)  When I finally did learn about the dog that wasn’t supposed to be there, I should have brought Mason to the car before anything happened. 
 
Of course, the tiny puppy woke up and wriggled out of the owner’s jacket. Mason saw A PUPPY and his brain melted out of his skull and he started screaming. Mason is safe, even mid-meltdown, but the whole performance is incredibly off-putting, extremely loud, and again, we were in a library.  
 
A library worker came down when she heard Mason’s noise. She was quite frustrated with me, and she was understandably upset that this was happening. I was already trying to get Mason out of there. I ran into this library worker in the hallway as I was trying to get him out to my car. I was already leaving, but her need for control got in the way. She ended up delaying the outcome that she was looking for. I was already on my way out, but she still felt the need to stop me in the hallway. She kept telling me over and over and over and over that the dog needed to leave.  I was nodding and agreeing, and just waiting for her to stop talking and move out of my way. She was blocking our escape with her body, and she just stood there scolding me, and I just kept nodding, and Mason just kept screaming. 

That need for control… it’s a tough thing to balance. The library worker probably thought that she was protecting her patrons. In reality, she ended up prolonging the perceived risk to her patrons by exerting her authority in that situation. Wielding that that control was totally unhelpful in that situation.  

—- 

There are so many areas in animal training – and in life – where giving up a little control will actually give us more control, and make things safer, easier and more enjoyable. It sure is hard to do, but I’m working at it. I hope you’ll join me!

Case Study: Bear’s New Lease on Life

Written by Sarah Griffin. Thank you to Sarah for sharing Bear’s journey!

I have a fearful dog. At this point in his life, I expect surprise when I say that to strangers. I hear it all the time: “Really? But he’s so happy!”

In most situations, my fearful dog no longer appears to be fearful. He still is, but I’ve built a bond of trust with him based on positive associations with scary things. For the behavior geeks among the readers, I’m referring to classical conditioning! For the rest of us, let me sum it up this way:

Every time a very scary thing appears, a very good thing appears immediately following it– and the very good thing must be so good that it can take his attention away from whatever it is that’s scary. Over time, how he feels about the very scary thing will change for the better, because it will have become a predictor of very good things. Here’s the part we like best as owners: as his feelings about the very scary thing change, his behavior changes too.

So how does that work in the long term with a “problem dog,” and why do we at Paws Abilities believe in this method? Let me take you back to the dog before the training.

My German Shepherd, Bear, is a rescue from a city shelter where he was slated for euthanasia. For the whole two hour drive home from the shelter, he cowered in the back of my car on the floor. He did not want me to touch him. He did not make a noise. Upon getting inside my apartment, he lay down in the corner of the bed, hid behind a stuffed animal, and shivered. Even if I hadn’t snapped a picture, that image could never leave my mind. This is that picture.

(Caption: Bear’s safe spot on his first day home.)

Now, take a look at a picture from about two years later.

(Caption: Now Bear likes to go out on adventures in the winter more than I do!)

Here, Bear is bounding through the Minnesota snow, tongue lolling out of his mouth, ears only back because of how fast he’s running. He’s being recalled back to me to go out further on a walk, and he loves it. His tail is up, his eyes are on me, and he’s happily responding to my cue from a distance with distractions all around.

What changed?

Very good things happened. Every time we saw a person, he got a very good thing. Every time we saw another dog, he got a very good thing. Every time we saw a car, he got a very good thing. You get the picture. For two years, I rained treats from the sky at almost anything he encountered.

Bear is an extreme example, so don’t worry! Not every dog will require anywhere near as much work. Perhaps your dog hates those Wednesday tornado sirens, and that’s her very scary thing. Think about what very good thing would help your dog cope with those sirens. For Bear, the very good things are often food! Bits of cheese, deli turkey, licks of cream cheese, pieces of leftover meat, a potato chip… Think outside the box. A very good thing has to be special, after all, for it to qualify in the first place. However, this list is only made up of things my dog likes– your dog may prefer a game of tug to a handful of cheese.

(Caption: Bear at Paws Abilities’ north Rochester location, smiling his big, goofy smile.)

Helping a fearful dog requires consistency, patience, and a lot of rewards, but I can’t give you a better testimonial than Bear’s. With lots of work and lots of love, my shy boy not only has a life, but he has a good one.

Need help expanding your fearful dog’s world? We are experts at confidence building, and can help you put together a customized program to bring your wallflower out of his or her shell! We have all sorts of options to help fearful dogs, ranging from private lessons to group classes.

Already worked through fear issues with your furry friend? Tell us all about your journey in the comments section below!

Understanding Dog-Dog Sociability

Recently, my young dog, Pan, snarked at another young dog at a playgroup event. It was entirely my fault: I didn’t set Pan up for success. [It was also absolutely embarrassing, since I was wearing my Paws Abilities polo shirt (“seriously, she’s a dog trainer?”).]

Dog-dog relationships are one of my specialties, but I make mistakes too. As much as I’d like to be a superhero, I’m only human. My dogs, too, are not perfect. They’re only canine, and their social behaviors with other dogs are entirely normal and manageable.

Pan and his housemate Trout. Photo by Grape Soda Photography.

We humans get into a lot of trouble with dog-dog relationships in our society. We expect our adult dogs to act like puppies forever, and we expect every dog to love every other dog. We judge and label dogs who display entirely normal, species-appropriate behaviors as “bad dogs” because they dared to growl or show teeth, and think that dogs who jump all over other dogs wildly are displaying entirely sweet and benign behaviors.

The truth is that dog tolerance levels are variable, and will change with both age and experiences (good or bad). There is also a genetic component to most dogs’ sociability with others of their own species, so all of the appropriate socialization in the world will not necessarily make every dog socially adept and friendly.

So, what does “normal” dog-dog behavior look like? Think of dog sociability as a bell-curve.

Normal dog sociability levels change as a dog matures.

Dog Social: most puppies start here. They generally enjoy and seek out other dogs, and tolerate (or sometimes even encourage) rude behaviors from other dogs like humping or barking in their face. As dogs mature, almost all of them will move to the right of this trait. Truly Dog Social adult dogs (those who really appreciate the company of almost every other dog) are quite rare. Unfortunately for the species, this is the trait we expect all dogs to exhibit, even though it’s a fairly abnormal occurrence in the vast majority of mature dogs.

Dog Tolerant: slightly to the right of Dog Social dogs are those who are Dog Tolerant. Many puppies who will grow up to become Dog Selective or Dog Aggressive start here, before sliding to the right as they mature. This is also an incredibly common place for adult dogs to end up after maturity. Dog Tolerant dogs get along with most other dogs. They may be playful or neutral, but they generally have a pretty long fuse and good communication skills. Dog Tolerant dogs also tend to do well on leash around other dogs. They require normal supervision and limited direction from their human guardians.

Dog Selective: just as common as the Dog Tolerant adult is the Dog Selective one. While a rare and concerning trait in well-socialized puppies who have not had bad dog-dog experiences, this is a very normal place for an adult dog to end up at maturity. Dog selective dogs will often have a circle of “approved” dogs or types of dog that they do well with. Scuffles may break out quickly, and these dogs often have very short fuses. They may dislike certain play styles or types of dog on sight, and may be less than stellar on leash with other dogs. These dogs often dictate the rules while playing and may seem like the “fun police” or the “instigator” in group situations. They require a lot of supervision and positive direction from their owners to succeed with others of their species.

Dog Aggressive: this trait is highly abnormal in puppies, and fairly uncommon in adult dogs. In fact, it’s about as uncommon as truly Dog Social adult dogs. Dog Aggressive dogs often have a very limited circle of dog friends (perhaps only one or two housemate dogs), or may have no dog friends at all. They have quite poor social skills and can be quick to spark up on leash. Dog Aggressive dogs need additional support, patience, and direction from their guardians to succeed in dog-dog interactions.

So, where does Pan fall? As an eighteen-month-old intact male terrier cross, he’s matured into a very normal and manageable Dog Selective boy. He can be rude and pushy with other dogs, and is frequently inappropriate about intrusively sniffing or licking new dogs’ genitals if not redirected. He is also highly aroused by both meeting and playing with other dogs. He most enjoys interacting with opposite-sex partners under thirty pounds, but has dog friends of both genders and of various sizes. He does well with other dogs on leash when he is in “working mode” and generally handles on-leash greetings appropriately. Pan currently takes corrections from other dogs well if he meatballs into their space, but I suspect that he will become less willing to cede space as he continues to mature.

Dog sociability is not a fixed trait. As a dog matures, he or she will often quite naturally become less social and tolerant. There are many developmental changes that happen between sexual and social maturity, and most dogs will continue to display these changes until two to three years of age. Proper facilitation of dog-dog introductions and friendships can change your dog’s sociability for the better over time, and bad experiences can quickly make things worse. Good leadership and direction is important to set your dog up for success with their species.

As Pan’s handler, I failed to set him up for success when I allowed him to continue an aroused interaction with a male hound puppy who was larger than him. When the puppy jumped on and mouthed him too hard, he responded appropriately by correcting this behavior… then continued to go after the puppy [quite inappropriately!] until he was physically removed. Once on leash, he immediately calmed down and was able to focus on me, even with the puppy mere feet away. While this incident was over within seconds, it’s the sort of thing that, when allowed to happen repeatedly, will continue to shift Pan further towards the Dog Aggressive end of the spectrum. In fact, many of my clients could tell similar stories of how their dog initially enjoyed playgroups, the dog park, or doggy daycare, then became pickier and more likely to scuffle as adolescents, only to end up with a more serious incident as a young adult prompting them to call me.

Regardless of where your dog falls on the sociability spectrum, it’s your responsibility as their guardian to set them up for success. Remember that these traits are flexible, and that thoughtful management and slow introductions can shift your dog further to the left of the spectrum. Just as I have zero interest in frat parties, my adult terrier crosses are less than enthusiastic about the idea of a free-for-all play environment… and that’s entirely normal and okay.

Where does your dog fall on the sociability spectrum?

Case Study: Learning to Relax

Written by Katie Kelly, CPDT-KA, ABCDT

When I was looking to adopt a second dog, one of my top priorities was to find a dog who was dog-social. I already had Minnie, my small reactive Shih Tzu, and I needed to make sure that she and my future dog could safely coexist. Having a dog-social dog would also mean a canine partner to join me at work, providing demonstration and help with behavior modification for my client dogs.

Finally, I found Jasmine. She was dog social, a good dog-sport prospect, and (most importantly!) she passed Minnie’s test. She was dog-social, alright. I found myself frustrated with many of the same problems my clients have with their dogs. Jasmine wanted to greet everyone! She would zip to the end of her leash and whine at any glimpse of a dog in view, and became very excited about people as well. This not only made her look intimidating to some, due to her pit bull type features, but it was extremely tough to go anywhere with her. I would repeat over and over to myself, “at least she’s social. At least she’s social. At least she’s social.” But there was more.

Jasmine

Animated beings were not the only things Jasmine got excited about. She would zoom in circles any time she touched a leaf, or felt the crunch of the snow beneath her feet. If I was out and about with Jasmine, she could never just stand still. If I stopped to talk to a friend, Jasmine would get fidget, pace, and whine until we moved on. At one point, when out on a walk, she got so excited about sniffing a tree that she zoomed around the tree multiple times until she broke the clip on her leash, and ran off in a frenzy. Gone. Thankfully, she found me again once she was able to calm down. During moments such as these, she began to worry me, as she appeared out of it, incapable of any sort of mental response. At that point, I began labeling her as “hyper-reactive,” meaning she over-reacted with hyperactive behaviors on a regular basis with everyday situations.

Eventually, after some conversation with my veterinarian, Jasmine was put on anti-anxiety medication. Once the medication took effect, I was able to work on teaching Jasmine to relax. This was life changing for Jasmine.

At first, I started in my home. I helped Jasmine realize that it was okay to go lie down on the floor like a normal dog, rather than feeling the need to seek out constant attention. Then I began to take the skills Jasmine was learning at home and apply them in our training classes. I specifically took the “Focus and Control” class, where the goal is to maintain connection, teach impulse control, and condition the dogs to relax.

One of the best parts about our “Focus and Control” curriculum, is that we teach dogs to drive to a mat, and lay down. Mat training is wonderful all by itself, but we also add a relaxed emotional response. The mat becomes a soothing comfort that can easily transport from place to place. This gave us the ability to take our training out into the real world!

I practiced relaxation with Jasmine everywhere: out in pet stores, café patios, out on walks, and at friends’ houses. She became much easier to take places. Whenever she began to escalate, I would begin some sort of relaxation technique, sometimes with the mat and sometimes not. Over time, I was seeing less and less reaction to the things that once overstimulated her.

While Jasmine is an extreme example, teaching relaxation is beneficial for every dog. Giving a dog the skills to cope and settle in everyday situations can prevent many behavior issues, such as anxiety, aggression, and hyperactivity. It is also beneficial to their overall health, as stress affects our dogs in the same ways it affects us humans. Lastly, dogs who can maintain emotional stability are much easier to train, as they have a higher capacity to process and retain information.

Jasmine (right) helps “little Jasmine” (left) learn to relax around other dogs at Day Camp!

Today, Jasmine is off medication. Her daily overreactions now only happen on very rare occasions, and in those moments she is now easy to redirect. Her stable personality is perfect for day camp, where she now helps other dogs learn to relax in her presence, a skill that can be extremely difficult for those super social dogs!

These days I stress the importance of canine relaxation to my clients. It is also a major focus in our day camp programs: Puppy Headstart and Canine University. Could your dog benefit from a little more down time?

[Mostly] Wordless Wednesday

Photo by flickr user dagnyg.

I have a dog, Maggie. I trust her with my life, but not with my sandwich. -Dr. Phil

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.

Duke 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).

Duke 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.

Slow 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.

 

Duke’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.

As 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.

Duke’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…”

Duke 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.

[Mostly] Wordless Wednesday

Photo by Matt

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

-Maya Angelou

Pickles’ Story

Pickles was found as a stray. His owner never claimed him.

He came to live with us, and we loved him so much. He was such a good little dog. Socially motivated and eager to connect, he gave hugs and adored snuggling. He was great with other dogs and gentle with children. He ran happily next to my bike and was always up for an adventure.

The first time we left Pickles alone for a short time, we came home to a scene that hit me in the guts like a punch out of nowhere. Pickles had panicked at being left, shredding the thick plastic pan of his crate and injuring himself in the process. The carpet was soaked with his blood, and his paws and mouth were sore. He crawled out of his crate, eyes wide and tail tucked to his belly button, and froze in fear. For nearly ten minutes, little Pickles was practically catatonic, unable to walk and unresponsive to touch or verbal reassurance.

Some level of isolation distress is not uncommon in dogs who have just come from the pound, but this was extreme. Pickles was immediately started on the best behavioral modification plan and pharmaceutical help we could give him.

More demons appeared, however. As I went to leash him the next day, my hand moving quickly towards him caused him to flinch and hit the ground in terror, screaming, then lunge upwards and bite my arms before running into his crate to hide. The word “no” made him likewise hit the ground, eyes wide and face tight, then hackle up and bark furiously. Our roommate’s raised voice (in excitement, not anger) or direct eye contact provoked similar defensive barking, and when my fiancé picked up a stick-like toy to engage Pickles in play, the little dog ran away and hid behind my legs.

Pickles was in a safe environment and he was loved. He also posed a significant safety risk: to himself, to his adopters, and to the community. In a committed home with good management and training, dogs with similar issues to Pickles may be kept successfully. But Pickles wasn’t in a long-term situation. He was in rescue.

I’ve written about it before, but putting a face to the dilemma is so much harder. Rehabilitating Pickles would be a long-term project. During the time that it would take to help him, twenty other needy dogs in our community could be saved. Just because those dogs weren’t in front of me, just because they didn’t have eyes I could look into and soft, warm fur under my hands, did that make them any less deserving than Pickles? Furthermore, even with the very best training, Pickles had shown that he was willing to use his teeth when frightened, and therefore presented a very real liability to place.

And what about Pickles himself? His separation issues had nothing to do with the crate – he was perfectly comfortable in it when someone was nearby, but freaked out when left gated in the kitchen with food toys (which went untouched) or loose with another dog for company. The fact that he panicked so badly as to injure himself was heartbreaking. I couldn’t imagine the sheer level of terror I would have to feel to rip off fingernails or claw at something until my fingers bled. How much trauma would I have to endure before a simple word or action caused me to reflexively respond with violence and fright?

Waiting for a bacon cheeseburger outside Five Guys Burgers & Fries.

Pickles had the best time we could give him. He played with dogs at the park and rolled in mud puddles like a little piggy, making sure to flop side-to-side to coat himself evenly with sticky slime. He ran and ran. He jumped baby gates and went over and under our backyard fence, wiggling with pride at his vertical accomplishments as I laughed and thanked the stars for leashes. He ate all the best things – bacon cheeseburgers, ice cream, roast beef, cream cheese, pepperoni. He discovered the joys of squeaky toys and raw meat in Kongs and real bones from the butcher and sleeping in bed (under the covers, of course). He was told that he was a good, good boy, the best, and that he was loved and safe.

And then the vet came, and Pickles left the world safe and loved, in arms that held him close, with a voice whispering all the kind things he needed to know. And it sucked, and I cried for days.

During Pickles’ time with us, I’ve been honest about him on Facebook and with my students, both the good and the bad. I’ve shared how he snarled over bully sticks and how he was respectful of kitties. I’ve shared how, while he didn’t even know the word “sit,” he definitely knew about the joys of car rides.

Ice cream!

And I get that this topic is awful. It is. It’s horrible, and it hurts so badly that a bright, funny, sensitive little dog had to die. It hurts that people have sent me messages telling me how very wrong this decision was, and how love alone could have saved Pickles if I’d only cared enough (or worse yet, how I should send him to Cesar Milan). It hurts to know that whomever had Pickles may at this very minute have a new puppy, one who doesn’t bite them when they say “no” or destroy their house when they leave him… yet.

The truth is that this is the reality of our world right now. There are not enough resources available to save every dog, and it’s not in every dog’s best interest to be kept alive. Sometimes letting go is the kindest thing.

But it’s fixable, readers, and that’s why I’ve been honest about Pickles’ story even though the hate mail tears me up a little more each time and the days with him shredded my emotions. The answer is education. It’s catching Pickles’ family when he was still a baby, and teaching them about separation training and socialization and the dangers of physical punishment. Did you know that my blog posts about socialization, puppy care, and management only reach about 1/10 of the people (if that) that the blog posts about aggression reach? Puppy stuff may not be as sexy as discussions about biting dogs, but if we could get the word out about the former the latter would become much less necessary. It really is that simple, and that difficult.

Pickles isn’t my first compassion hold, and I suspect he won’t be my last (although I hope otherwise). In fostering over one hundred dogs, this is the third time a dog has come into my life and my heart with hopes of a bright future, only to show me that they can’t be safe or happy. (Many others have come into my home during their last days, as creaky old fifteen-year-old dogs who need a soft place to lay their heads for a few days or weeks or months, but we all know that it’s not the same to euthanize an old, sick dog as it is to say goodbye to a young dog like Pickles.)

Please know that Pickles’ story happens, more often than you may think. And please, help me to prevent it from happening to other dogs.

Dog-Dog Aggression Between Housemates Part Four: Training

Last week I discussed the management techniques I used to keep Trout and Layla safe and separate after their recent fight and resulting injuries. I cannot emphasize how very important management was in our success – without it, I doubt we would have ever been able to get the two girls back together. That said, there was still some work to be done. Today, I’ll cover the training and behavior modification exercises that we employed to reintroduce the two dogs to one another.

Starting right away, we began to do short sessions with the dogs on opposite sides of their gates or ex-pens. We would take the blankets off the gates so that the dogs could see one another, walk them within sight of each other, then feed them lots of treats. After 10-20 seconds of treating, we would walk one of the dogs out of sight and immediately quit feeding both dogs. The premise was simple – good stuff only happened when the other dog was present.

When we first started these exercises, the dogs were noticeably worried. Trout frequently stared at Layla and sometimes growled, her posture stiff and upright. Layla avoided confrontations, looking away and licking her lips, clearly frightened. This behavior on Layla’s part was quite surprising to me. In the past, she’s always been eager to engage if another dog started something, but I suspect that with her increasing age (she’s nine years old) and injured leg she just wasn’t feeling up to another confrontation. When Trout growled or postured, her handler instantly stopped treating or paying attention to her and walked her away, while Layla’s handler praised and treated her for avoiding conflict while also moving her further away. We never allowed growling or posturing to continue for more than a second before intervening. Remember, practice makes perfect – and we certainly didn’t want Trout to get better at these behaviors!

Within a couple days, these positive conditioning sessions began to show real results. Trout’s posturing became less intense and Layla’s appeasement signals likewise lessened. Both dogs began to visibly brighten when they spied their housemate on the other side of the gate or ex-pen, looking for their treats. They also began to signal in friendly ways towards one another, sniffing from a distance and returning calming signals. We praised them enthusiastically for any pro-social behaviors, and Trout especially seemed to really need this extra reassurance that she was doing well.

As she became less insecure around Layla, Trout’s posturing and growling melted away. This is an important point. Frequently, owners think that their dogs are growling because they’re pushy, mean, or status-seeking. However, much like Trout, these behaviors are often an indicator of a problem with insecurity. Imagine, then, the damage that can be done by punishing a dog for growling or otherwise displaying their discomfort. Not only would punishment have potentially suppressed growling and other very useful indicators of Trout’s comfort level, but it also would have completely reinforced her belief that she was correct to worry when Layla was around. By pairing Layla’s presence with good things (treats! praise! neck rubs!) and viewing any growling as information that the dogs were too close, we were able to quickly change Trout’s reaction to Layla for the better.

Oops! Sometimes we made mistakes. Here, Trout got way too close to Layla, and began to display whale eye and close her mouth – both major warning signs. We immediately put more distance between the two dogs, and Trout once again relaxed.

At this point, we began taking short walks multiple times a day – just halfway to the corner at first, then all the way to the corner. We started by walking the dogs across the street from one another, moving them in the same direction but allowing for plenty of parallel distance between them. Both dogs were given treats for looking at the other dog in a soft manner, as well as receiving frequent rewards for walking nicely. If either dog began to look tense or nervous, we immediately veered further away from one another, giving them even greater distance. When they were both soft and relaxed, we moved slightly closer, lessening the distance between the two.

Within a week, the two dogs were able to walk side-by-side in a relaxed manner. They began sniffing each other as they walked, and following one another to especially enticing smells. They started to urine mark over special smells together. While they were still kept completely separate inside, their outdoor walks allowed them to start interacting as a team once again.

Inside, we continued to experience problems with guarding. Both dogs guard resources (food, toys, special resting places), so we had to be very aware of potential triggers. If either dog growled or stared at the other, the offender was immediately but calmly escorted to a crate or room for some alone time, while the dog who had been growled at was rewarded liberally with treats and praise for not responding. In just a few days, Layla began to run to the treat cupboard and wait for a reward during the rare moments when Trout happened to growl, and both dogs began to posture and threaten the other less frequently.

To begin working on reintegrating the dogs indoors, I returned to one of my favorite tools for behavior modification – the Protocol for Relaxation. This step-by-step protocol teaches dogs to relax while stuff happens around them, and both Layla and Trout were already quite familiar with it. I started running through the protocol once or twice a day, at first with the dogs lying on mats on opposite sides of a baby gate, and later with them side-by-side but with Trout tethered. After a week of successful protocol repetitions, when both dogs were looking soft and relaxed on their mats, I untethered Trout. Outside of training sessions the dogs continued to be kept separate, but while we were actively working on the protocol they were able to be loose together, relaxed on their individual mats.

These three main exercises – positive associations on opposite sides of the gate, parallel walks, and the Protocol for Relaxation – set the stage for a successful reintroduction. Within a week, we began allowing the dogs to pass by one another off-leash without interacting when switching them into different areas of the house, and later began to allow short (2-5 minute) periods of time when they were loose together but heavily supervised. We continued to keep them apart for the majority of the time, but built up the amount of time they could be around one another gradually.

Relaxing during the Protocol for Relaxation, off-leash together and all healed up!

Reintroduction after a serious fight is a slow process, but it was worthwhile in the end. After a month of gradual reintroductions, we were able to take the ex-pens and baby gates down completely. The dogs continue to be separated if left unsupervised (something we’d done prior to this incident as a matter of course), but are otherwise peacefully coexisting once again. Three weeks into this process, the two began playing together once again, at first with frequent breaks and exaggerated body language, and then with more relaxed signals as they once again became comfortable with one another. Today their interactions have returned to the pre-fight levels of peace and playfulness.

While I’ve coached many, many clients on reintroductions such as this, I’ve never before experienced inter-dog issues with my own pets at such a serious level. I can empathize with the stress and anxiety of dealing with dogs who don’t get along. My mantra for clients in similar situations has always been that “slow is fast,” and Layla and Trout were proof that this is indeed the case. Anytime we tried to rush through exercises or pushed the dogs, things fell apart. Allowing both girls time to heal, physically and emotionally, and setting them up for success with one another, gave them the tools to progress at their own paces and eventually to rebuild their relationship. We’ll continue to be vigilant in avoiding situations that could trigger a repeat of their fight, however I feel confident in saying that the dogs are better equipped to avoid conflict in the future due to the hard work we put into helping them succeed during this time.

If you’ve ever experienced inter-dog aggression in your own household, I hope your experiences at reintroduction were every bit as successful as ours. Remember, slow is fast, and it’s important to work at your dogs’ own paces. Feel free to share your tips, tricks, and stories in the comments section below.