Lauchie, The Hoarder Collie

No, I am not talking about people who can never accumulate enough stuff, and never throw anything away, and eventually drown in junk and filth. The ones you see on reality TV; Hoarders TV exposes for ratings.
In reality, I don’t watch much reality TV: No Dog Whisperer, no “dumb-and-proud-of-it” hick show, and no crazy junk and animal hoarders in my living room - unless I need a reality check when I obsess over my home being a tad too messy. One episode convinces me that I don’t have to feel guilty about spending the afternoon in the sun joined by a glass of wine and a book when I ought to tidy up.
I am talking about canine hoarders; dogs that collect every scattered toy and whatever else they find on the ground and deem valuable, put it on their bed or in their crate, and often guard the accumulated booty against cohabitating fur animals, and sometimes also against the hairless kind.

The root of resource hoarding and guarding is resource insecurity. Always. And almost always humans are to blame: owners and breeders who either stole the dog's possession in the name of misunderstood dominance, or raised him in resource deprivation - didn’t provide what the pooch needed and thereby forced him to compete for the little that was available. In the latter case, both the dog who regularly lost out but also the one who was successful in defending his possessions can become a hoarder and aggressive guarder in the next home.

My friend Ann’s new Border collie pup Lauchie reminded me recently that even pups from a really good breeder can have quirks. Here he is.

And this is our last foster dog Reggae, also conscientiously bred, also a hoarder at a very young age.

But let’s talk about the collie – it is fresh in my mind.
Little Lauchie is from England. His first eight weeks of life were how it should be for every puppy born, and there was no reasonable expectation that he'd be unsure about anything, including resources. And yet he seems to be and collects, as Ann likes to name the behavior because it sounds a lot nicer than hoarding.
Although Lauchie isn’t aggressively guarding his stash, it is still an issue his momma wants to address. For starters, he is still just a baby and things could change as he matures, but also because he evades coming when called when he is in possession of a toy.  Or when he returns, he does so without it.
Running away with a treasure between the teeth can be a puppy thing, but Ann felt that it wasn't the fun factor of playing catch-me-if-you-can that drove the behavior, but the worry that he’d lose his bounty.
Lauchie is smart and sweet and social and shows all the behaviors of a carefully bred and raised pup. He is attentive and keen to be with his person, at the breeder the litter had everything they needed, and he has now always accessible toys aplenty. He gets to play many games, and comes just fine when he doesn’t carry something. So, why the out-of-character behavior when it comes to toys? It initially had us stumped. Funny, Ann’s dogs have a habit of making my brain hurt – and I mean that in a most affectionate way.

The best explanation we could come up with is has to do with Lauchie’s thoughtfulness. Yes, you read that right and yes I am anthropomorphizing but I don’t care. Besides, it is the best word to describe his personality that, by the way, consistently presented itself very early on. Lauchie is not slow-witted or fearful, but watches, and processes, and then acts. He has natural impulse control, and with so many dogs getting into trouble because they lack it, I wouldn’t exactly say that that is a problem, but it might mean that he lost out against his siblings who all were quicker on the draw. I think we are on to something because Lauchie is also very food driven, which corroborates that his littermates might have gotten more than their fair share in that aspect as well.

There are two ways to address hoarding: either one needs to convince the dog that resources never run out, and that it's more fun to bring toys than hoard them, or one must eliminate free access to toys completely and also control what else happens to lie around within the dog’s reach. I like the former better for following reasons: Free access to a toy box alleviates anxiety and boredom, micromanaging the dog and resources for a lifetime is a cumbersome thing to do, and common sense dictates that resource overflow is the fasted way to instill resource security.
That said, with some hoarders free resource access can make things worse, as was the case with another friend’s rescue German shepherd. She had a number of anxieties, and was overwhelmed with too many toys and bones and the task to collect all of it, was constantly searching and pacing, and permanently tense trying to guard the treasures on her bed against the other dog. Life in paradise initially made her more anxious, and taking a more structured approach to resources was necessary. She is fine now, by the way, thanks to patience and the unfailing provision of everything she needed and wanted.

Since little Lauchie is neither anxiously pacing nor aggressively defending his collections, there is no pressing need to withhold free access. Instead, Ann exploits Lauchie’s brain and love to learn and interact – traits found in many dogs not just Border collies – and teaches him to identify individual toys by name, and then bring the one she asks for in exchange for a play session. It is a game that stimulates any pooch’s mind and body, but with a hoarder the added benefit is that toys are going to be perceived in a different way: Because it directly involves the human, it puts value on the person and not just the toy. Eventually, the dog will bring specific objects to solicit interaction with his person, which will become more rewarding than playing keep-away alone.
In addition, it creates a hierarchy of toys and games, meaning that the dog will have a preference he didn’t have before. When some object are of high value, naturally all others are meh and hopefully not worthy of hoarding any longer.
Like with any behavior we want changed, new habits can take time, and until then it is important that the undesired old ones aren't rehearsed. To prevent Lauchie from running away with a toy, Ann taught him “retrieve the named toy” in the bathroom first, a very small space that didn’t give the pup any option other than to share his toy with his momma. The idea is to orchestrate rewarding experiences, and then gradually expand outward to bigger spaces.
I have no doubt that it'll do.

Can Manipulation of Body and Communication Signals Change Behavior?

We love our dogs, don’t we?  We love to watch them play, love when they’re attentive - follow us literally and figuratively, when they are affectionate and soft, and some of us even love when they act doggish: zoom in wide circles, bark with excitement, dig in the snow, sniff'n'mark, drag a log out of a pond, roll in yucky stuff - well, perhaps love is too strong a word regarding the last one.
Dogs, we say, are honest and incapable of wearing a social mask, and we love that too - until they express that they feel aroused, anxious or angry. Those signals: the tension and warning stares; the barks, whines and growls; the tucked-under tail and bristled hair, we don’t love. We accept dogs’ frankness only when they “say” what we like, and aim to extinguish their not so sweet signals – either with inflicting punishment or applying reinforcement. With some dogs, either method effectively manipulates signals, but the important question is if we also successfully influence future behavior.

A few years ago scientists conducted an experiment in which people were asked to carry a pencil between their lips for a few minutes several times a day. Carrying a pencil, of course, resembles a smile. Scientists knew that hormones and neurochemicals dictate behavior, but what they wanted to find out was if it happens the other way around: If molding the body affects brain chemicals. Indeed, there were measurable changes in the test subjects, so it seems to be the case.
Since humans and dogs are physiologically similar, the notion to use that information to help dogs is apparent: If we manually flatten raised hair, move ears forward, lift the tail, could we increase a dog’s feel-good neurochemicals and make him relaxed, confident and proud? This is what one renowned trainer, who cited the above study at a seminar, proposed, albeit with a question mark because she wasn’t quite convinced. Neither was I, and there is scientific evidence that shows that although behavior seems to influence brain chemistry, it does not change brain circuitry, and that is an important distinction.
When a person smiles spontaneously, because they feel joyful or experience something funny or inspiring, the brain’s emotional center in the limbic system fires up. In comparison, when a person is prompted to smile, for example a politician for a photo op during an election campaign, neurons in the cerebral cortex, the thinking part of the brain, light up. There are muscles in the face that are not under voluntary control, and are only involved when the smile is genuine, emotional. To an onlooker, a smiling person might be regarded as happy and affable, but that doesn't mean it is real.
Likewise, I believe that a dog's submissive display isn't necessarily real either, and I have observational evidence that backs it up. One dog in particular sticks out: A juvenile Labrador retriever named Abby who, for a few months, joined a loosely formed walking group I belonged to in Calgary.
Abby, when she arrived, greeted each of our dogs, at any given day 10-15 of them, in a very groveling fashion. She did it every time anew, and every time was promptly growled at by just about every dog while she was still on her back, and after that, after they let her get up, everyone happily roamed together for the remainder of the walk.
Our dogs’ growls upset Abby’s owner. She felt that since her dog so exaggeratedly submitted, ours shouldn’t be so offensively aggressive, and wanted them disciplined. Discipline, she shared with us, they implemented from day one as outlined in the training guide they followed: The Monks of New Skete’s “The Art of Raising a Puppy”. Although we were a little stumped by our dogs as well, we didn’t intervene because they were typically quite appropriate, even with newcomers. We, as a group, speculated that perhaps they knew more than we humans did.
As it turned out, we and our dogs were correct. As Abby matured, a different personality surfaced. No more groveling, no more submission, but high arousal, attacking and bullying dogs, and offensively barking at people. Eventually, Abby got into so much trouble that they stopped coming.
The original version of “The Art….” advises the alpha roll, the forceful putting a pup on her back, and I wondered then if Abby’s initial submission was feigned, and our dog savvy dogs, perceptive of subtleties in body language, saw it for what it was: Learned and superficial rather than felt deference.

People can manipulate crude body language, but not the finer expressions that reflect a dog’s emotional state: facial muscle tension, dilated pupils, an open or closed mouth with retracted or puckered commissures. Most people have difficulties comprehending dog communication when it is loud and clear, never mind subtleties. Dog savvy dogs, however, know - and perhaps smell, the emotional state and intent and decide, based on that, how they want to greet, or if. Manipulating a dog, including turning one around so the other can sniff butt and genitals, without understanding what is going on, leaves a lot of room for mistakes.

Trainers who use negative reinforcement instead of physical molding to extinguish undesired expressions do pay attention to those finer signals. They orchestrate situations in which the dog is exposed to the problematic trigger close enough that the trigger is indeed perceived as problematic. As long as the dog responds with unwanted signals, neither handler nor trigger do anything, but as soon as she gives appeasement, curious or friendly signals, the trigger releases the pressure by increasing the distance. Whatever is reinforced is repeated, and trainers who use negative reinforcement to treat reactivity claim that when practiced enough, the operant conditioned friendly expressions will lead to an authentically friendly dog. Again, I have doubts, and again, studies as well as real life experience seem to substantiate them.
In an experiment, human test subjects were instructed to move their facial muscles to mirror a specific emotion: anger or happiness. Like the pencil between the lips study, the scientists wanted to see if consciously invoking an expression would lead to the corresponding emotion, and indeed the participants reported that they felt respectively angry or happy. So at first glance, deliberately producing body signals appears to bring about the feeling, but closer investigation and evidence from electrophysiological recordings revealed that the artificial smiley and angry faces created different brain wave patterns than those generated by real smiles and real anger. The brain just can’t be fooled.
In addition, the test subjects were not happy or angry at any particular thing, which is of course the case when we work with dogs who react to very specific and real stimuli: mainly other dogs and/or strangers.
I encountered dogs who were shaped with negative reinforcement, and from a distance indeed didn’t snarl any longer but displayed sociable signals, one even play bowed, but reacted when the distance decreased and pressure became overwhelming. The one that play bowed attacked when she was within teeth range. Had she changed her mind about dogs? Obviously not.
Like body molding, shaped friendliness void of the emotion behind it is mock friendliness, and mock friendliness puts people in a false sense of security. There is a real risk that the dog becomes more dangerous. Like punishing the growl, we suppress the dog’s natural warning vocabulary when we reinforce the ones we like better. Before you had an aggressive dog who signaled it and you could take action; after punishment and shaping for sociability, you have one who doesn’t and the attack comes unannounced. Furthermore, people typically approach closer when they see friendly body signals, and in that case you want to be certain that your dog IS friendly, and not just acts friendly.

Yes, we have accounts that insecure people feel stronger when they consciously walk tall and with conviction, and anxious ones who become more centered in stressful situations when they practice relaxed breathing, but don’t forget that when people fake it till they make it they do that voluntarily, without external manipulation and shaping.
Even then, an assertion such as: “I carried a pencil between my lips for a few weeks and permanently lost my fear of spiders” sounds ludicrous. I am sure phobic folks wish a cure was so easy.
In my opinion, if we want honesty from the dog, anything emotional must come freely from the dog, and not be shaped, prompted or manipulated. If a dog feels afraid or angry, reflected in his body signals, I respect that. It is preposterous human arrogance to decide for the dog what signals she should give. That doesn’t mean I ignore problem behaviors, but that I try to change the underlying issues instead of expressions. If I am successful, the signals I don’t like will disappear automatically and authentically.

Many owners want what I want: a canine companion who feels relaxed, curious and confident, content and happy. You get that not with manually lifting the tail, but when you facilitate opportunities for the dog to succeed.
During a tracking workshop, our German shepherd friend Fin found the hidden person and was overjoyed. No food reward was needed to motivate him to do it again.
Will once successfully snatched a ball from her nemesis Gracie. She carried it in a way that it hung out of her mouth for all to see. Will never carried a ball that way before or after.
Our Aussie Davie snubbed all her dog friends at the park after a herding workshop. Even before I told the group what we had been up to, they commented that she was different.
Our Newf Baywolf hightailed and pranced after he finally dislodged a big branch he was working on for a good 10 minutes.
No fake signals in any of these dogs, but expressed, authentic joy – pride, there is no better word to describe it.
So, can we manipulate the signals a dog gives? Absolutely.
Should we? My answer is no.

About Monkeys, Peace and Aggression

World-renowned primatologist and ethologist Frans de Waal talks in his book “Our Inner Ape” about an experiment in which physically bigger, but peaceful type of monkeys were housed together with  smaller, but cantankerous and more aggressive monkeys – all of them juveniles. When the aggressive ones started a fight, the peaceful ones simply ignored them. Completely! They didn’t even look in their direction. Obviously, the physically stronger, peaceful monkeys had no need to attest their strength exactly because they were more powerful; their own safety was not in jeopardy.
The monkeys stayed together for five months, and there was rarely a physical confrontation: all, especially toward the end of the experiment, lived harmoniously with each other. Not only that, but when they were separated, the inherently aggressive monkeys continued to be more peaceful. Peacefulness, it seems, can be learned.
Genetically programed means that there is a higher or lower propensity for a behavior, but for it to occur it needs the corresponding environment. With these cranky monkeys, when aggression was not reinforced, and when they observed peacefulness in cohabitating animals that could clean their clocks if they wanted to, the aggressive propensity did not find the corresponding environment, and thus their behavior – lastingly - changed.
In our relationship with dogs, we are the more powerful species, like the bigger and stronger monkeys were. That makes us the ones in charge, the only ones who can set the stage, the corresponding environment, that allows dogs to acquire the social skills we are wanting.
I don’t believe in aggressive breeds, but also not that every dog, or breed, is a genetically clean slate. Selective breeding happens for a reason or it wouldn’t happen: humans aim and breed for certain traits, and although using the mouth is natural for all dogs, some are more active, determined and ready to aggress when pressured. A dog hardwired to overtly act more than retreat will live out those tendencies in an environment that is charged up and aggressive - that is where his nature finds fertile ground to be expressed; the predisposition to become a behavior.
Especially with these dogs it is crucial that we counter that by providing a peaceful environment, by addressing their aggression issues in non-aggressive ways, and also, while not ignoring that a problem exists, by not giving the aggressive expressions that much attention.

Here is another interesting monkey story that has to do with peace and aggression.
Stanford University Professor Robert Sapolsky studied baboons over several decades. Baboons, unlike dogs, are very hierarchical and there is a lot of pressure and bullying happening from the top down. Consequently, there is a lot of stress in the underlings, measured in the glucocorticoid levels in their urine output.
At one time, a particular colony Sapolsky observed lost about half their members when they consumed contaminated meat. None of the ruling alphas survived, and my guess is because as alphas they had priority resource access and were brutish food hoggers at the expense of low-ranking baboons who lost out on the feast.
In any case, suddenly the colony was without leaders, and interestingly the troop didn’t fall apart, but rather the aggression level dropped, and the affiliate social level rose. The whole colony thrived, and again it was lasting: After 20 years without alphas the baboons in that colony were still friendly and non-aggressive with one another, with each individual having some control, each one flourishing, contributing and cooperating with everyone else.

In 2013, I will continue to take lessons learned from dogs and people, and perhaps monkeys, to heart.
In 2013, I will continue to share with you what I know, and hopefully help more humans and their canine companions to a flourishing and harmonious coexistence.
I am wishing you, and your dogs, a healthy, happy and prosperous 2013 – and that you experience only peaceful hairless apes this year.

Nature's Punishments

Dog trainers who intentionally inflict pain and discomfort to influence a dog’s behavior often refer to Nature’s Rules as an explanation. They argue that Mother Nature punishes missteps, misdeeds, mistakes, and hence we must adopt that template or risk that our pooch turns into an unruly, and perhaps even aggressive, menace.
True, Mother Nature and Mother Dog’s consequences are not always pleasant. Life in itself isn’t. But how does that relate to our life with dogs? Should we emulate Nature?
To answer those questions, we must have a closer look at the results when Nature punishes: The efficacy and fallout.

When we lived in Calgary, one of our favorite areas was Bowmont Park, an interconnected path system straddling the Bow River. We ventured there several times a week, alone or teamed up with friends, all year around. No kind of weather could keep us away for long. Because our dogs are generally very responsive to us, they were mostly off the leash.
Once, during early spring, young Aussie shepherd Davie trailed along the still partly frozen shoreline, spotted a duck on the river, and charged for it. Thankfully the ice didn’t break, but it made an eerie cracking sound that scared Davie so much that she came flying back to me - and for the rest of her life not as much as looked at a duck. One incident led to complete avoidance… of fowl.
The unquestionable intent of a punishment is that something decreases, or ideally ceases altogether for now and for always, and that is exactly what happened here. Equally undisputable is the fact that the connections a dog makes with an unpleasant sensation is not necessarily congruent with what actually happens. In the above example, the only thing Davie linked with the scary sound was the obviously very powerful bird, but neither the ice nor her behavior, which means that she continued wanting to chase wildlife other than ducks, including along iced shorelines.
Nature’s punishments, you see, can be a bit sloppy in eliminating the specifics we’d like to see eliminated.

Outcomes are more precise when another animal deliberately delivers a punishment. Our Newf Baywolf, again when young, had issues with certain dogs and always growled at a female Amstaff we occasionally met at Bowmont Park whenever she came too close to me. Nothing I did curbed that behavior for long, but keep in mind that I wasn’t as dog-wise then as I am now, and finally the Staffie, typically very sweet and tolerant, had it and chased Bay halfway up a hill. He never growled at her again, and for the rest of his life avoided her. The punishment she dished out worked as she intended – for her, and only for her. Bay continued to growl at some other dogs, until we dealt with the issue properly and all dogs became good-stuff announcers.
Last year, at Shubie Park in Dartmouth – our “Bowmont Park” since our move, a Labrador retriever was dumb enough to mount Will. She ejected him in a split second and he got the hint, but I saw him mounting another dog a little later when our paths crossed again.
Nature’s punishments, you see, can successfully eliminate a behavior, but not necessarily in all contexts; it continues elsewhere.

Truth is that Nature’s successes are limited, and sometimes don’t work at all. One aspect that determines whether a consequence is a deterrent is the intensity of the drive.
The cracking sound the ice made was enough to stop Davie from chasing ducks for the rest of her life, but ducks weren’t that big of a deal for her to begin with. Had it been a cat on the river, or even a ball, I am not sure that the result would have been the same.
Baywolf, forever curious and the most social dog I ever met, was so motivated to investigate and greet that being quilted by a porcupine never stopped him from saying hello again. And no, he was not a dumb dog. His memory served him well in other situations, but with this one his hardwired spirit to socialize superseded the pain he experienced.
Will, on the other hand, was never quilted but witnessed when Baywolf was, and she never approached a porcupine, but returned to me whenever she spotted one, and also respectfully stays away from raccoons.

When punishment is effective, dished out by Nature or humans doesn’t make a difference, avoidance is the definite result. That is the whole idea: that the recipient doesn't do whatever it was he was doing again.
When we punish our dog, it is avoidance we create, but what he will avoid, what connections he makes, is impossible to accurately predict. Will he avoid repeating the action he was punished for? Will he avoid any or all details that were present when he felt discomfort? Will he avoid his human?
Trainers who use Nature’s Template as justification to inflict pain and discomfort forget about the social relationship between dog and owner. Yes, mom-dog might correct her pup, but mom-dog doesn’t plan for a future relationship that needs to function; pups rarely live with their biological mother after 10-20 weeks of age.
People do envision an ongoing and mutually rewarding friendship, but that’s not going happen when one is a deliberate and repeated punisher the other will try to avoid as a result.
Let’s say my 5-year-old child is riding her bicycle recklessly. I could intentionally give her a fall-causing shove to teach her to be careful and heed to my warnings, and I bet she would learn her lesson very quickly, but she also wouldn’t trust me anymore, would she? And how would she feel about other activities that include me? It is the same with a dog.

Punishments lead to avoidance and escape. There are dogs that run away every chance they have, and some stay away. “Lost” on purpose. In Nature, every adult animal has the freedom to leave a situation that’s not working for him.
Another escape route is to take the punisher out, which also happens in Nature. In any given situation an animal might retreat or defend itself, and when a dog feels strong and confident enough, a fight can ensue, and bites with real teeth, not a claw-hand or knuckles. Furthermore, when his fight reaction is reinforced, so when the person or other dog backs off, threats and bites can become a habitual way to deal with the environment. Punishments train aggression.

When we choose Nature as our template, we take a gamble. We can’t predict before we start if our envisioned canine companion will: Disconnects from us, aggress against us, or becomes so stressed that he is perpetually guarded, hypersensitive and over-reactive to any stimulus.
Another natural and therefore very possible, and indeed common, side effect is displaced aggression; hostility against anyone perceived weaker.
In Nature, an elder might correct a young animal’s out-of-line actions. Through that, the pup learns self-restraint and deference, but what he also learns is who in the group he needs to be careful of and who he bully in return; who he is more powerful over. Of course, that is also something we do not want in our social group.
It is unacceptable that the dog we correct beats up the kitty, but Nature is not one-sided. The traditional and balanced trainers who excuse their punitive methods with “Nature’s Template” are one-sided: they punish, but fail to acknowledge all possible outcomes. As it is human nature, they take the part that fits their purpose, and don’t mention that there is nothing natural about applying an isolated aspect of complex and dynamic interactions in the wild. They miss the point that balance is when one accepts all facets of Nature, including the dog avoiding, distressing, leaving or aggressing; including the part that Nature kills or ostracizes the one who jeopardizes the survival of the pack. Millan’s red zone dogs Nature would not tolerate. Only humans keep someone alive within their social group who causes ongoing conflict.

We don’t behave like Nature, but use it whenever it suits us. We claim that the dog is a primal animal and we ought to treat him as Nature would, but demand that he adjusts to our refined human expectations.
We have a whole set of rules that are very unnatural - and I discussed several in previous posts: we disallow freedom to communicate, to sniff, to move at will, to get excited and so on.
We don’t permit a dog to defend a resource, but that, too, happens in Nature. According to renowned wolf expert L. David Mech, every wolf regardless of rank has an ownership zone around his mouth he has the right to defend. We want our dogs to release things to us.
In Nature, attacking an interloper is a desired trait. Millan and alike punish the dog who barks and growls at a stranger who enters home territory.
Nature doesn’t micromanage and demand precision obedience. Dogs don’t care if another breaks a down stay or rather chases a squirrel than come on recall. We do care about that.
Nature doesn’t set an animal up for failure just to have the chance to punish it. That is what traditional trainers do when they “proof” the dog. They set a trap the dog innocently walks into, orchestrate situations that guarantee that he will make a mistake, and inflict the unpleasant consequence when he does. It would be like a grade school teacher giving a right and wrong spelling of a word, and then punish the pupil when she spells it incorrectly, so that she never, ever forgets to do it right. Chances are it works, but the costs are easy to comprehend. For a dog who falls in the hands of such trainers, everything he learns plays out that way.

Except battery farmed food and research animals, owned dogs are the only other ones prevented from living out their intrinsic drives. Regarding the former, any person with a thread of empathy feels bad, but justifies it as a sad but necessary requirement so that we can eat and treat illnesses. With dogs, masses believe trainers who allege that the coercive stifling of natural behaviors is Nature’s Template, and that it will lead to a happy and balanced animal. Not only that: The guy who demonstrates how to  do it effectively is glorified on TV, supported by big business, and faithfully followed by millions of dog owners and wannabe trainers.
In Nature, life is ruff sometimes, relationships transient and the outcome of punitive consequences unpredictable. Nature doesn't care if the individual lives and prospers, or dies or suffers.
Our relationship with dogs is a different one. We want consistency and permanency. Most owners don’t want any of the side effects. They want the opposite: instead of detachment, companionship; instead of anxiety, even-temperedness; instead of aggression, friendliness.
To get that, they must adopt a different template as their guide than Nature’s.

Why Dogs Bark and Lunge on the Leash

If I’d dig up all my clients’ files from the last 15 years, I bet half my dog book collection that on-leash aggression was the single most problem behavior owners hired me to help them with. On-leash aggression, or rather reactivity, is very common.
The typical explanation most laypeople, and some trainers, offer for the kind of barking and lunging that makes everyone’s head turn, frightens the targeted individual, and embarrasses the owner, is that the dog is protective, dominant, thinks he is in charge. It seems plausible: after all, the dog is moving forward, toward the target, and he is loud and threatening. However, “This is my space/mom/kid” - fill in the blanks – “get lost” is typically not the motivation that drives leash reactivity, and more enlightened dog pros know this.
If not dominance, what are the reasons for a dog flipping out? Well, there are several, rooted in following underlying emotions: fear, distress, excitement, frustration.

Failure to socialize, meaning that the pup didn't have enough exposure to a variety of environmental stimuli during the critical developmental stages, is generally blamed when a dog is fearful. Like the dominance angle, it makes a lot of sense to people and indeed, puppies raised in a bubble or in isolation can become neophobic: will fear and react to anything new. That is compounded when the odd novel encounter was unpleasant, and if the pup felt alone - didn't have a safe refuge zone and the loyalty of his owner.
But it is not just the unfamiliar that can cause dogs to overreact. Things known, but associated with discomfort, can provoke an undesired response as well.
Dogs make a blink assessment, based on their life experience, when presented with a stimulus.
Is it familiar?
Depending on the dog, if it is unfamiliar it is automatically perceived as a threat.
If it is familiar, does it announce: Pleasure? Or Discomfort? It is safe? Or not?
Whenever a dog anticipates discomfort, the stimulus is perceived as a threat; a threat to his safety, and that always causes distress. The barking, lunging and growling are the expressions, the symptoms of it.
Familiar stimuli are cues that predict a consequence, and dogs react to cues.

One might expect that dogs perceive other dogs generally as familiar. Shouldn’t a pooch identify another as a conspecific being? Innately “know” a dog as a dog?
Not necessarily: We have a vast variety of breeds that differ in structure and behavior, and if the pup only experienced his own, he might not recognize others as familiar, but as threats.
The other aspect to consider is that dogs to each other are providers: initially food, then entertainment, but also resource competitors. Dog-dog relationships can be complex, with each unfamiliar one a potential rival, and a familiar one a known rival, unless experienced otherwise. In my professional world, lunging and barking directed at dogs is more common than toward humans.

When a fearful dog barks and lunges, his motivation is to increase the distance, to drive the perceived threat away. Yet, many owners report that their pooch relaxes once he gets close enough to get a good sniff in. Why the obvious contradiction of wanting distance, but behaving better when it decreases? There is an explanation: Information reduces anxiety because it makes the unknown more familiar and predictable, and dogs’ preferred way to gather intelligence is through the nose. When there is no information forthcoming from the owner - information that, from the dog’s point of view, provides a copout, he has no choice but to get it from the other dog, and so he’ll attempt to get closer even though emotionally he wants him to disappear.

It is not always fear, though, why a dog acts out. Frustration plays a big role, and there are several reasons why a dog can be frustrated. One, again, has to do with information seeking.
Greeting rituals exist to find out more about a stranger while preventing and defusing potential conflict meetings. That is true with humans and dogs. When we shake hands, smile, bow or curtsy, and introduce ourselves, perhaps hand over a business card, the other understands that we don’t wish confrontation. Socially normal dogs first communicate from a distance: might raise or lower their bodies, lean back or forward, open their mouths or close it, lay back their ears, orient to the opponent directly or avert their eyes, and hold or wag their tails a certain way. Depending on the back-and-forth signals, at one point they might agree to sniff each other, typically in the head and/or anogenital region, to gather detailed information. Out-of-control barking, of course, isn’t part of normal greetings, but neither is being restricted from it. When the rather dense dude at the loop end of the leash prevents his pooch from behaving normally, perhaps even from communicating properly when he manipulates him with a head halter, frustration and its expressions result.
Fear is added to frustration if the dog is choke, prong, or worst of all, shock collar punished when he reacts; when he experiences pain for being curious, for wanting to communicate, for attempting to greet in a, for his species, appropriate way. In short, if a dog’s normal social behaviors and emotions are stifled with force, the stimulus, a dog or person, becomes a cue that triggers a stress response. Even if the consequence only happens sometimes, the dog will respond accordingly all the time.
Not only that, any detail that is part of an unpleasant event can become a cue, for example: the leash, the collar, the person who dished out the punishment, and the area where it happened.
When the leash in itself is an issue, the dog is already tense before the trigger even appears. Frenetic pulling and sniffing, and completely disconnecting from his person once outside, are common signs that the dog is distressed by virtue of being on the leash and/or outdoors.

Anything in a dog’s life that has a big impact leaves a big impression and provokes a big reaction in the future. If it is other dogs that were relevant events in the pooch’s history, he'll react whenever he sees/hears/smells another dog. Big deal suggests pressure and discomfort, but that is not always the case.
Dogs who repeatedly experience other dogs as primary facilitators of physical and mental entertainment, the ones who go to daycare or are chauffeured to the dog park and let loose once a day come to mind, have a certain expectation when they encounter a dog - any dog: fun and romping begins. If it doesn’t manifest because of the leash, or not quickly enough because the person who holds it is a slow-footed creature, the pooch, you guessed it, becomes frustrated, and the outburst can look very similar to the fearful dog’s, especially to a layperson.
And by the way, that kind of frustration, when something that’s expected doesn’t happen, is not reserved to people and dogs. During a “leave” exercise, a 12-week-old beagle pup soulfully bayed at me because he couldn’t access the treat I had tossed.

There is one more aspect that falls in the frustration compartment, and it is not fear or information seeking, and also not exactly play-motivated.
Some dogs, typically ones belonging to the herding group, have a heightened sensitivity to motion combined with an innate urge to control anything that moves. Steve White calls them: “Born with a badge on their chest”. These dogs have a strong natural drive to bring order back into the perceived chaos of animated dogs – or children, and become mighty agitated when the leash prevents them from doing their self-appointed job, but also often behave improperly when off the leash, at least from others’ point of view. Even though at times jokingly referred to as “fun police”,  some dogs and most humans have little tolerance for a pooch who stalks and chases; is locked, loaded and controlling. The bossy dog also doesn’t have much fun: He is easily overstimulated when presented with ongoing commotion in a busy dog park or daycare center, and overwhelmed with the task to organize and tone everyone down a few notches. A trained herding dog knows what to do and has the guidance of his handler - and is successful. A dog who has the drive but no training, the instinct but no clue, let loose on uncooperative other dogs and trailed by a yelling, irate owner, is not successful - and distressed as a result, and reactive on, but also off the leash.
On a little side note, the serious always-on-the-job dog can also be short-fused when another butts in while they work. In that context, the ball fetching Border collie who snaps at a space-encroaching retriever is not resource guarding, but annoyed by the interruption. I recently had an Australian cattle dog client where that was clearly the case. Believed to be dominant and aggressive, she was simply so focused on her human and what he had in his hand, and if he might throw it, that anybody who'd pop in her face got a sharp and clear: "Buzz Off!" Unfortunately, in an dog park or off-leash trail, it is exactly that kind of focus that gets other dogs' attention and provokes them to "check out what that dog is so interested in".

Frustrating situations make dogs irritable and pumped, and when confronted regularly with the triggers, the cues, they become sensitized: have a heightened sensitivity to predictors, motion and sound, probably also scent, and act more and more out of control from greater and greater distances. The collar and leash, because of the restraint and discomfort they represents, amplify the problem.
The question one must ask when a dog barks and lunges is what he expects to happen next. Play? A job? Emotional discomfort? Physical pain? That expectation is based on the dog’s experience, and is what dictates future behavior. Expectation dictates behavior.
I bet what you all want to know next is what to do about it. I will tell you – in the next post, but I’ll give you a hint right now: neither clipping the leash off, nor allowing yourself being pulled closer to the trigger, is it. Oh, and commanding the dog in a sit position and coercing him to watch you isn’t it either.

Chase, Predation and Aggression

When Davie was 5 months old, 4 weeks after we had rescued her, she chased and nipped a jogger in the multi-use off-leash park we visited often. I was still fairly green then, and her action not only completely took me by surprise, but also concerned me. Was she an aggressive dog? As it turned out, in a different context she was that too, but her chase‘n’connect had nothing to do with aggression.

Aggression, in a broad sense, is a forceful, hostile action to make an object or subject disappear: drive it away or eliminate. Although that is the intent sometimes when dogs go after things, often it is not.

Harming or getting rid of the jogger was not the reason why Davie charged after him, and it is not why most dogs chase. To the contrary, they want to catch up, decrease distance, make it halt. To eat it? Is the chase drive predation? Not exactly either.

In ecology, predation is an interaction between two species in which one hunts and consumes the other. Although some dogs do consume a small animal they manage to catch, as a species they don’t hunt for food, but live on what humans provide – purposely when they fill the bowl with kibble twice a day, or unintentionally by leaving food waste behind. Even feral dogs prefer garbage to hunting prey, and only kill if there isn’t enough waste. During a three-year field study that observed a feral dog group, they were observed to break into a chicken coop twice, and hunted a red fox once - unsuccessfully. They did scavenge on already dead farm animals. (When livestock was killed, it was done by owned dogs, not feral groups.) They were playful with horses.

So, when dogs chase, despite common belief, it is neither aggression because the intent is catching up, perhaps even interacting, not getting rid of, nor predation because the kill’n’eat part is missing. What is it then? Play? Yes, indeed. Running away or towards is perceived as a strong play signal the dog, instinctively, responds to with chasing or darting off. Movement gets most dogs’ attention, and chasing after it is a strong biological impulse.

But now it gets complicated: although chase is play in its nature, it can result in injury and even death. During normal play, there is a behavior cycle of: arousing, running and calming. There is a brief pause after a chase, and play signals that start it up again. Some dogs, though, don’t play right. They lack self-control, become frustrated if they’re too slow, or so worked up that they lose inhibition and are handler unresponsive. Then, play quickly changes into something drastically more serious: all aspects of predation except consumption: catch up – hold on – rip – kill, but not eat. In addition, such out-of-control hyperarousal is contagious, which means that other dogs might join in a pack-like fashion, like humans do in a mob.

That predatory drift can also kick in if a socially inept, or small dog, panics during a social encounter and runs, yelps, squeals or struggles, and sadly also when young children run, screech, flail their arms or mock-fall. There was an incident a few years ago in Alberta in which two otherwise well-mannered German shepherds grabbed a toddler they knew, and were never aggressive with before, by the neck and killed him.

Having that awareness, the question arises if we should allow dogs to chase at all? I mean, we love to watch them having fun, but are they strengthening predatory skills? Are we fostering a heightened sensitivity to everything in motion? A trait some dogs are genetically already prone to.

In my opinion, good welfare includes running and playing; dogs have to be able to feel their legs every so often. Withholding it is denying them part of their nature. The crucial ingredient that prevents that play gets out of “paw” is, once again, training.

Davie’s jogger problem was quickly solved with a ball and Frisbee. We also worked on halt – my “freeze right where you are and wait till I get there” command, and on impulse control when she played with other dogs.

Herding is structured chase, and working dogs are extremely well trained and have a solid not-chase switch: a slow-move, halt or down position they wait in until released again. The dog knows that access to the flock, or herd, is controlled by the handler, and because he really really wants to be on the stock, the motivation to be receptive to and obey the human’s directions is high. Herding dog breeds, working or not, are inherently attentive to their people, and fairly easy to train. Davie was no exception. She was extremely biddable and eager to please us, and agreeable to chasing a ball instead of charging after running humans. Like the human shepherd who makes access to sheep contingent on the dog’s behavior, I controlled access to the ball. Sticks are everywhere, and that allows the dog to control the game. With a toy, the game is always under the person’s control, not the dog’s.

As a side-note, do not play laser games. It is a sure-fire way to make a dog a neurotic light seeker and chaser. In a flash he’ll fixate and react to TV flickers, light shining through blinds, doors that open and close, ceiling fans, and shadows.

Remotivation can be a little harder to attain when a dog has a one-track mind and is zoned in on the environment and reactive to wildlife or pets. The reinforcement for impulse control and obedience can’t be to chase a flighty animal, and yet that might be exactly the dog’s biggest motivator. Even then, with a combination of managing and coming up with something really special to reinforce NOT chasing - hint: a “good boy” and shoving a treat into his mouth likely won’t do, success is possible with most dogs.

I see nothing wrong allowing a well-trained dog to chase squirrels, provided it is safe for both animals. The pooch should not pull or whine, but offer attention and wait for a release command, and follow when his person walks on or at least come when called. A dog who is completely fixated, tuning everything else out and continuing to bark up the tree even when the squirrel is long gone, indicates that there is potential trouble brewing in other chase contexts as well.

Davie’s drive to chase was channeled into appropriate outlets and she never went after a person again for the rest of her life - or cyclists, skateboarders and cars. But she did kill once – a tame rat that unexpectedly appeared in our fenced-in yard. It was the day after we moved into our home. The previous owner did not own the rat, but had fed it regularly and did not inform us of its existence. The kill was not preceded by a chase, there was no arousal before and afterwards, and Davie didn’t try to eat it. She grabbed it by the neck, shook it, and then flung it at hubby Mike’s feet. It was: I belong here and you don’t. It was aggression.

Trainers and Methods on my Mind

There’s been a lively discussion on Facebook lately that started with someone posting that we, the positive reinforcement proponents, ought to be as positive with people as we are with dogs, and not say anything if we have nothing nice to say. It was an interesting thread and packed with, as it is typically the case in dog circles, polarized opinions. Some feel that if we don’t point out what compulsive and punitive treatment does to dogs, we become collaborators, enablers and facilitators. Others argue that we can accomplish more with educating instead of criticizing, and that we should keep the communication lines open. One person even questioned how credible a positive reinforcement trainer one is if she doesn’t extend those values to humans?

That one rang a bell. It’s true. Not all dog pros, and regardless what philosophy they follow, are pleasant with people. But when positive reinforcement trainers aren’t, there is a bigger contrast between how they treat dogs and how they treat humans, and the lack of people social skills becomes more obvious.

I pride myself in being my very best whenever I am with clients. My mission is that no dog should experience force, pain or intimidation at the hands of humans. I know, a lofty goal, but I am über-passionate about it anyway. Education trumps, and I am as patient, positive and gentle with people and their offspring as I am with their pooch, and don’t lay blame for mistakes they made in the past, because in all likelihood they followed somebody’s advice.

When I encounter colleagues who feel that I might have something to offer, I never hesitate to share what I know. And I do it nicely. I answer emails, return phone calls, meet for coffee and am welcoming when they attend my public speaking events.

That changes when folks try to convince me that dogs can’t be trained without corrections, discomfort and pain. No thank you. I’d be wasting my time, and theirs.

I have no interest in discussing their punitive and coercive ways, and I will also not stay silent. Why? Because I believe that punitive trainers cause, or contribute, to behavioral problems, violate the dog’s sense of emotional safety in his home, and do little to strengthen the relationship between dog and his people.

I am not alone. Scientific studies, published in Applied Animal Behavior Science, showed that aggression is a possible consequence of confrontational methods, both traditional - Koehler style, and hierarchical pack dominance – the stuff Millan does. Let’s have a detailed look:

With choke or prong collar corrections, 6% of dogs became aggressive.

Removing something forcefully from a dog’s mouth 15%; pinning, the alpha roll, 11%; hitting or kicking 12%, and I wonder if the “attention touch” with a foot or hand, the “bonker” with a rolled up towel or newspaper, and the “tap” with the flyswatter is included in that.

Millan’s famous tsst-sound that announces a correction unless the dog gets it together right away, 2% reacted to, and I suppose it might be the same with the warning tone that precedes a shock.

The stare-down was 16%; spray bottle 10%, and I suggest you quiz your dog’s daycare provider about that; yelling “no” 18%. Maybe it’s 18% with the shock collar tone as well, not 2%, or maybe somewhere in the middle.

The forced dominance down, which is when a leashed dog, typically on a choke or prong collar, is forced to lie and remain in that position for a set period of time, made 7% aggressive. The same with grabbing the jowls or scruff, and growling in the dog’s face was 9%.

Here is an interesting tidbit: During a 3-year field study in which a group of feral dogs was observed, the researchers noted that only 2% of hostility was directed against social group members. That indicates that aggression against someone the dog lives with is not normal dog behavior. Believe me that I meet many dogs that lash out against the people they live with; the adult male if the dog is confident enough, but more often aggression is directed toward the female owner, children, or other animals in the family.

Above study gives you a possible, I say probable, explanation. Dogs can become aggressive when confronted with intimidation and pain, and if they can avoid it with aggression, then aggression is powerfully reinforced. And keep in mind that only aggression was studied, not other anxiety expressions like emotional coma, hyperactivity and obsessive behaviors, inhibited learning and avoidance. Also note that you can’t predict the outcome accurately when you begin training.

Jim Ha, Research Associate Professor of Psychology at the University of Washington, and one of only a few handful of Ph.D. Certified Applied Animal Behaviorists in the US, states that certain individual dogs of certain breeds develop no anxiety with aversive training, provided it is done by an experienced trainer who applies the right amount of punishment at the right time. Those people, according to Ha, are highly skilled professionals often found in the assistance dog and K9 fields. They select the appropriate dog for their needs, and reject all others, which are the majority; the assistance dog facility Dr. Ha visited rejects about 70% of their already intentionally, for the job, bred puppies.

Is your neighborhood traditional, hierarchical, balanced or shock collar trainer that qualified and skilled? Do you have the right individual dog who can handle aversive training? Are you savvy enough to select the appropriate dog for your needs?

My hunch is: No, No and No. Some trainers are very skilled handlers, but based on my experience, not one rejects a dog, but accepts everyone in his group class or for private training. They accept every dog because they have to make a living. It’s about money.

Ha argues, and most behaviorists agree, that in unskilled hands, which are almost all dog owners, aversive methods are disasters in the making.

One more thing: The highest level of anxiety was observed with dogs that were trained and handled with the punishment/reward combination, which is the way of “balanced” trainers: traditional ones that jumped on the bandwagon of increasingly more popular clicker training. Can’t say that I am surprised. If you needed to be on guard to gauge which of your partner or boss’s side you have to deal with at any given day or moment, you’d be stressed out too.

I am sure there’ll be more studies like these in the future that prove that correcting, intimidating, startling on purpose, and applying force and pain does harm to dogs, and people by extension – the ones the dog lives with and society at large.

Intentionally inflicting discomfort is unpopular with many people. Dog owners rather not punish their canine companion, and I opine that trainers know that, and therefore often don’t lay all the cards on the table for you. They are not always frank about what they do, and what potential fallout it has, and use deflecting euphemisms: vibration collar, balanced approach, following nature’s rules, discipline, leader of the pack, training collar, stimulus, rules and boundaries, attention touch – relaxed or calm even when the dog is visibly stress panting or exhausted.

Trainers go to great lengths to explain the low settings of a shock collar, even let you experience it on your arm, but rarely offer information what the high settings are for. Let me guess: A dog who doesn’t respond like a robot with the low settings.

They circulate YouTube videos of an “aggressive” German shepherd who is “cured” in 5 minutes, or a reactive mastiff miraculously pacified after a short time wearing the company’s own collar. Those clips show the before and after behavior, but not how they got from point A to point B.

Punitive trainers’ websites often don’t reveal the methods they use, or describe them as unique and secret but unbelievably effective, or they speak in tongue most layowners don’t understand, like: using operant conditioning, applying all four quadrants.

Membership with a professional organization might flag their homepage, but they won’t tell you that the association is all-inclusive to begin with, or doesn’t screen their members very thoroughly.

There are clever PR moves to attract clients. Some offer a free in-home consultation, which sounds great but in reality typically means that they diagnose the dog’s issues in 15 minutes or less, and spend the rest of the time promoting a costly training package.

Some trainers guarantee that the dog will be rehabilitated for good. Sounds great too, but being 100% rehabilitated is realistically impossible. Dogs are not programmable computers, but living beings with a nervous system and emotions. Nobody can guarantee their behavior 100%, and nobody can guarantee the behavior of people that interact with the dog. No psychologist or therapist would ever make that claim. That is not how experts behave.

I am sour about all that. It feels like someone’s pissing on my leg and tells me it’s raining. And so I speak up. Not because they get clients and make money – protectionism is something trainers who are openly critical of others are often accused of, but because they are hurting dogs and the average layowner doesn’t know they do.

My loyalty is with dogs and their people, not other trainers. I don’t willy-nilly bash local ones, but when directly asked, I will forward first-hand knowledge I have about that person. Only first-hand stuff I witnessed or heard from my clients, their failures and fallouts.

The famous TV dog wranglers are, voluntarily I should say, in public view several times a week and are, as far as I am concerned, fair game to be criticized like any other public figure. There has to be an equalizer to a show that demonstrates a person walking assertively into even the meanest dog’s home, forcing the even strongest dog into submission, subduing every undesired expression permanently with a few easy corrections, and having a well-mannered dog in the end, even if he has caused trouble for years.

Behaviorists know that what people watch is unrealistic and has side effects, and some high-profile ones say so. And they should. And now a number of positive reinforcement trainers suggest we should keep da gob shut? Under the guise of professional conduct we have doctors, lawyers, soldiers, priests, scout members, police, politicians and so on covering for each other, and we dog trainers should do the same? Not this one.

Of course education, informing people about the power and benefits of positive reinforcement, is the most important aspect in creating welfare; making life better for dogs. And I do a lot of that: Seeing clients, writing blog posts and columns, my book and an another one I am presently working on, radio shows and articles, and giving lectures and seminars. On that note, my spring lecture series is posted on my webpage.

But in itself, without weighing the potential fallout of compulsive methods against it, and pointing out people who made a conscious decision to use them, the public mind believes that one approach, one trainer, is a good as the next one.

Thanks to the above-mentioned study you have verification that that is not the case. You have an idea about the possible risks, percentage-wise, involved with aversive handling.

I admit, sorting out dog professionals is not an easy task. My advice is to ask your groomer, daycare provider and dog walker what they do if: Your dog doesn’t obey right away. Growls. Plays rough.

Check out dog trainers’ websites. You can glance over niceties such as memberships, certification from a private school – even if, no especially if it is from one the TV personality’s academy, and guarantees, but pay more attention to the training philosophy they believe in. It should be very visibly listed on their site. If not, ask. Don’t be intimidated. If you feel intimidated by a person, how you think your dog will feel? Ask. It is your dog; it is your right and responsibility. A trainer and behavior consultant should deliver answers honestly before you hand over hard-earned dollars. Ask, especially if you have a dog who already has issues.

My question would be: “What equipment do you use?” If it is anything that can deliver pain, I’d walk away. If the answer is: “Whatever you use is fine. I will show you how to use it correctly”, I’d walk away.

If your trainer doesn’t want your children present, ask why. A dog is part of the social group he lives with, and observing the dynamics and interactions of all members is important information for me. There might be a valid reason why the professional you selected doesn’t want children to be part of the consultation, but if it is because what he’ll do to the dog would upset the kids – walk away.

Ask: “Which of the four quadrants do you apply?” If they don’t know what you’re talking about, walk away. If the answer is: “All four” or “Whatever works”, walk away. All four likely includes pain, delivered before and/or after a behavior, and whatever works might work for the trainer, but rarely the dog.

A dog professional’s priority should be dogs’ welfare. What you want to hear is: Positive reinforcement/negative punishment combination. You also want to hear that it is up to you to put time and effort into modifying your dog’s behavior, that you might have to make a few changes, and that you probably will have to manage the pooch until new behaviors are established, but that you will get the skills and information, including ongoing support, you need to succeed. Those are the realistic expectations owners can have of a behavior consultant.

Fact is that not everything is fixable, and for sure not right away. In reality, we are not action heroes for dogs as implied on TV. We are normal people who know a lot more about dogs and behavior than you do, and help you with some M and M – manage and modify; help you understand your dog's behaviors and lay out how he can become the best pooch possible.

Here they are: my thoughts – my rant. Accuse me of not being collegial if you like, but I take offense being called unprofessional for speaking up. I am a dog expert and act on behalf of dogs. Yes, I could play it politically correct, and be critical of method and not the person who applies it, but you can’t really separate the two, can you. It is the person who makes a conscious decision to choose one method over the other.

Dogs and Babies

I confess: I am semi-addicted to Facebook. It is my social vice. I like keeping in touch with friends, clients and colleagues worldwide, and especially love the daily dose of dog-news: links to articles and video clips without having to comb the web.

Info seems to come in trends. Sometimes there is a cluster of training advice, then the topic is health and food, and recently there were a few youtube clips in a row of kids interacting with dogs. Little kids, babies and toddlers, and not so little dogs. In one, a mastiff had a bone and an about one-year old child kept on reaching for it. In another, a Bernese mountain dog frenetically licked a, crawling into his space, baby. Obviously, in each case there was an adult nearby - filming, and equally obvious unconcerned about the baby’s safety. Nobody interfered, not even when the dog with the bone briefly stiffened.

It is not unusual that situations laypeople find adorable or funny bristles dog pros’ neck hair. We see the dog’s discomfort in his body language - and a looming incident that always leaves both baby and pooch on the losing end.

How can parents be so oblivious? Well, some dog signals are easier to understand than others. Licking, for example, is typically interpreted as the dog loving the baby and kissing it in affection, but that is not necessarily the case. Yes, the dog might like the baby generally, but incessant licking indicates that, at the moment, he’d rather have some space. Some dog trainers use the term “kiss to dismiss” to illustrate the dog’s intention: wanting distance and peace, but communicating it in a much friendlier way than growling.

Whether a dog licks or growls depends on his personality. Naturally, humans understand a growl right away and take action – not always the right one, but at least they are aware how their pooch feels and ensure the little person’s safety. Anything less clear coming from the dog is often missed. But can a layperson be expected to comprehend subtleties in canine communication? Perhaps not, and hence the common advice is to never allow dogs and children to interact unsupervised. Except, in both clips they weren’t. Grown-ups were right there, but filming instead of intercepting.

A bite can happen a flash. There was another video making the rounds recently of a Malinois snapping at another dog 5 times in 2 seconds. 2 seconds is nothing; certainly not enough time to get a child out of the way even when you’re there. For that reason, many of my colleagues recommend to never allow dog and baby in face-to-face, or face-to-body, proximity. I am reluctant to go that far. There are dogs who really do love young humans and want to interact. I met them, and lived with them, and it would be a shame to withhold that. The solution, as I see it, is for people to learn more about dogs. Especially parents, and regardless if they own a dog or not, because the fact is that dogs are part of our society and everywhere. Fortunately, it isn’t that complicated. There is a fabulous website that illustrates when a dog is uncomfortable. Locally, here in Nova Scotia, one of my wonderful colleagues, Tamara McFarland, is holding a couple of Dog & Baby workshops this spring.

Between children, dogs and adults, only the grown-ups have enough reasoning capabilities to assess a situation accurately, and take charge when needed. Whenever a dog becomes stiff and still, has a clamped mouth and/or round, white-rimmed eyes, the problem is already a big one, and a bite might be imminent. Taking action, creating space, should happen when he yawns or flicks his tongue in and out, and when he tries to avoid: turns his eyes, head or body away from the child, and yes, also when he kisses to dismiss. Frenzied licking indicates that the dog is annoyed rather than affectionate. In fact, anything fast moving on a dog puts me on alert, including a fast wagging tail, and especially when only part of it wags. When a dog seeks friendly social contact, the dog wags, not just the tail.

Parents also should remember that dog/child interactions are dynamic. Just because the pooch enjoys the baby close by today, doesn’t mean he will tomorrow. The most difficult age I find is when a child is between 1-3 years old. They are mobile, but their motor skills not yet well developed, and they are too young to comprehend space politeness. Toddlers are unpredictable and uncoordinated and dogs know this. Especially more vulnerable tiny poochies, and older ones who might be a bit arthritic, can be quite guarded of themselves. Older dogs might also need more rest, and it is up to the owner to ensure they have a refuge zone where young humans won’t disturb them. Dogs, young or old, big or small, should always be given the opportunity to retreat when they have had enough. Many dogs are naturally curious about babies and want to sniff, but feel much safer when it happens on their terms. And please keep in mind that retreating can be an effort for older and giant dogs, and so they’d rather want the baby to create the distance, and they signal that with growling, or kissing.

Even if your dog is childproof, not every dog is and not all of the time, and it is crucial that youngsters learn to be considerate; learn manners and respect for other living beings. Their family pooch perhaps tolerates being hugged, pulled or slouched on, but their friend or neighbor’s dog might object. An average 3-year-old can comprehend basic dog language, and should be involved as “trainer helper”. Handing over a Smarty each time they point out “what the doggy is saying” correctly makes learning fun for everyone. The child is rewarded for giving the dog space, and that increases the likelihood that she'll be respectful with every pooch she meets.

Parents must model appropriate behavior. One would think that’s a no-brainer, but I remember a family of 4 we once encountered while hiking where that wasn’t the case. Davie and Will ignored them as they should, and the children ignored our dogs, but dad ran his hand over Davie’s back as he passed on the narrow trail. Davie was a small Aussie, and he had to bend down and make an effort. Duh! I complemented the kids for not patting a strange dog, threw dad the evil eye, and fed Davie a few treats for not biting the hand that rudely touched her.

The babies in the videos clips weren’t hurt. The dog with the bone loosened up again and left the scene, bone between his teeth. The Berner continued licking, too amiable to aggress. Dogs that are bonded to their social group members don’t want to injure any of them, including children, and try everything to avoid a bite. All adults need to do is watch and listen, and help the dog out when he feels overwhelmed. Not much effort for a huge payoff: a child not ending up in emergency, injured and traumatized, and a once beloved family companion not ending up at the receiving end of the euthanasia needle.





Dogs and their Teeth

Bite inhibition refers to the degree of pressure a dog applies when she wraps her teeth around someone. Evidently that is über-important, because having mouth control, or lacking it, makes the difference between no teeth marks, a slight bruise, or injury.

The common belief is that bite inhibition is set in young puppy hood, and although it is true that littermates stop playing, and elders reprimand when the little brute is rough with her teeth, it doesn’t mean that from then on, for her whole life, in every situation, the level with which she bites is invariable.

I argue that bite inhibition isn’t a constant, and only partly determined by early experiences. The other two factors are inherent disposition and intent.

By disposition I mean that cautious born dogs are naturally more careful what they do with their teeth than confident ones hardwired to taking risks.

By intent I mean that mouth pressure is very much under the dog’s deliberate control. For instance, a bite directed at someone - person, dog or cat - the dog has no social bond with, or is not dependent on, can be less inhibited because there is no need to keep that someone around, or alive. Let me give you an example.

Not long ago a client called me because her 95-pound pooch injured a person quite seriously. The victim was the owner’s business associate and not a complete stranger to the dog, but also not someone who appeared to be of any relevance. The owner purposely tried to instill a neutral association to people in general, and had asked everyone but close friends and family to follow the Dog Whisperer’s advice: no touch, no talk, no eye contact. The expectation was that the pooch would learn to perceive humans at large as irrelevant encounters and leave them alone. That approach was only somewhat successful because he remained alert, and occasionally barked and growled at one person or another, but never bit until the aforementioned business partner raised his arm; inadvertently, talking with his hands to add clarity to something he verbally explained. In a flash, the dog lunged up and inflicting a wound that required a good number of stitches.

I confess that, unlike some trainers, I do mind when a dog bites me. I feel just like the next person: it’s not pleasant and can put me out of working order for a while, and because I am tad obsessed with my work that is a big deal. Knowing the level of damage that dog had caused, I requested that he be leash-managed (not leash-corrected) and muzzled when I arrived for our appointment in the client’s home. When I entered, he seemed under physical control, but was hyperacutely aware of my presence and growled at my every move. “Seemed under physical control” might give you a hint what happened next. The owner, annoyed with his dog's behavior, yanked on the leash, which riled him up more and he lunged forward, and the person lost control. At the same time the ill-fitted muzzle came off. I spare you the details how I felt when the dog charged in my direction, but thankfully I wasn’t emotionally unstable for long cause he was more interested in sniffing my backpack on the floor than getting rid of me.

The panicked, and at the same time angered by his dog’s resistance and disobedience, owner caught up quickly and, before I had a chance to tell him to let his pooch sniff, grabbed him by his collar to pull him away, and he, objecting to that interruption, swung around and seized his arm - but didn’t clamp down. Not even a tooth mark. He didn’t injure on purpose, because the owner is a social group member and important for his survival. He means something, and the business partner didn’t and could, from the dog’s point of view, be harmed. Inhibition with one, but not the other, is intent rather than something born with or acquired as a pup.

Deliberate reserve was also the case with an owner-surrendered German shepherd I once assessed at a humane society. Calm and relaxed when I entered his run, his mood shifted instantly when I reached for his collar to clip the leash on. He jumped, took hold of my leash arm and tensely held a position of: paws on my chest, arm in his mouth, while directly staring at me. Although there was very little pressure, it was unmistakably a warning for me to stop what I was doing, and he did not release until I lured him back to the ground with a treat in my other hand. Why he didn’t bite harder still mystifies me, but perhaps he never had to make a stronger, clearer point because people heeded to his subtlety. Despite the lack of injury he was, in my opinion, a dangerous dog.

The argument that it is the degree of damage that distinguishes a safe dog from one who isn’t doesn’t fly with me. A dog who warns a lot is a risk. Of course, one who only bites once but sends his target to the hospital or vet clinic is more hazardous, but in a society that finds growling unacceptable, a dog who only intimidates or gets into minor scraps, but all the time, isn’t tolerated. There is more. Dogs that attack often typically have a heightened sensitivity, a strong startle reflex, and an overreaction to a wide variety of stimuli. Easily set off, they can be a challenge for the layowner. When pressured, the arousal level goes up, bite inhibition down, and a more serious bite incident might be just around the corner. The realistic outcome for a biting dog, regardless of inhibition, often is euthanasia - or worse a lonely life in a run somewhere, being physically abused, or being passed on from place to place to place.

I haven’t met a dog yet who hasn’t got any control over his mouth to a certain degree. A naturally hard dog can be gentle when it matters, and a soft biter can clamp down hard when overwhelmed with a situation. Anytime a dog’s teeth connect with a human or inflict injury to another dog, the owner should seek professional help, but not with the goal to learn how to punish harder than the dog can bite, but how to create the kind of environment that makes her feel like she doesn’t have to.

Aggression is never the cause, but always the symptom. The symptom that something in the dog’s life isn’t working for her. To investigate what it is that isn’t working, and to find solutions how it works better, is my idea of professional help. The dog trainer’s role should be to coach owners how to create an environment that is harmonious and rewarding for every member in the social group. Yup, that takes effort. It is much easier to hand the pooch over to someone who “fixes” the symptoms, like we might bring the car to the mechanic or laptop to the computer geek, than to address and change the cause(s) for aggression. Fortunately for dogs more people than you might think are up for the task. Sometimes we hold owners to a low standard – and we shouldn’t. I expect a lot from my clients, and am rarely disappointed. When they have the “tools” - in quotation marks because I am talking about a philosophy and lifestyle choice rather than certain kinds of collars, they apply and implement them.

Although every dog has the potential to bite, and will in a perfect storm situation, a safe (in the dog’s mind) environment, combined with specific training that teaches her alternate to biting behaviors when she’s charged up, communication between dog and owner that works, and savvy management, are the best insurance that she won’t become a liability.

Reflections on the Park Day

It’s a couple of days after our “dog watching with Silvia” event, and like I thought, it was a lot of fun. The weather could not have been better, warm and sunny, and the park was populated with dogs of all sizes. On the small end a few pugs, a mini-dachshund, and a few terrier crosses, who all mingled with many larger ones: a couple of boxers, a German shepherd, several retrievers, a Bernese mountain dog, a standard poodle, quite a few mutts – likely shepherd something mixes, and three Amstaffs. There was a confident, fabulous puppy, maybe toller in her, who behaved like she’s done off-leash parks forever. Likely partly genetics, probably nicely raised wherever she was bred, but it also appears that she has a great canine role model. She arrived with two humans and a larger adult male, black with a white chest and socks, who was also very confident, had a lot of presence, but was super savvy and appropriate with every dog he encountered. He sniffed canine newcomers’ head and face first, then genitals and butt, but often refused to be checked out in turn and walked away. Most dogs he ignored after that, but when one shared his jerky play style, he interacted for a bit, pausing frequently and heeding to the other dog’s stop signals instantly. He let his puppy do her thing, but at the same time was very aware of his surroundings and split when other dogs were a tad too exuberant. The only one he attempted to bark away was a male greyhound who came muzzled. He, the hound, was yelled at from the front by the black dog, and mounted at the rear by an otherwise very laid back golden retriever. Both dogs, without any of us humans having any indication other than the muzzle, knew right away that this dog meant trouble, and indeed the hound terrorized every small dog in the park, including the puppy. The owner had no recall, no control, and didn’t leash him even after repeated attacks, obviously thinking that having her dog muzzled was good enough since he couldn’t bite and do “real” damage. Finally, perhaps because she picked up on the dirty looks she received from the owners whose dogs ran away screaming in fright, leashed him and left. I hope she won’t return until she’s worked through the dog’s predatory issues with the help of a professional.

But that was the only conflict between big dogs and small ones; the only conflict period. All other dogs either played with or ignored one another, no dog chased or was rough with the children who were there, and no dog seemed to guard toys, sticks or food.

And there were many toys. In fact, one thing that stuck out for me was that all the “bully” owners had a Frisbee and interspersed letting their pooches socialize with playing fetch. That was fantastic, cause it prevented that any of these very energetic and boisterous boxers, young Labradors, and Amstaffs pestered another pooch out of boredom.

What I also really liked was that every dog had a normal buckle collar on. No chokes, prongs or shock collars from what I saw, and almost every dog responded happily and instantly to their person’s request to return, follow, or hang close. So, to my surprise it was almost positive all the way.

Almost. There was one mid-size brown dog, maybe a Lab or hound mix, who charged up quickly, and whose behavior with other dogs was out-of-control. He didn’t respond when called, and was also the only dog I observed who was corrected and physically, Millan style, forced into a certain position as soon as his owners got physical control back. Other than correcting him, they didn’t seem to do much else - didn’t walk much, didn’t play, didn’t seem to have a toy or treats, so it appears that they expected perfect manners, calm submission, and mindless obedience around many distractions without giving anything in return.

The Seaview park morning was followed with six half-hour, one-on-one guided dog walks, and that was a lot of fun too. I finally got to meet pooches whose people I’ve known for some time.

The first one was a brilliant Spanish water dog, locally bred in Nova Scotia, who I saw first when she was five weeks old. She is two now and very beautiful, and motivated, alert and intense, like a good SWD should be.

The next one was the goofiest looking golden doodle, and on top he is a really, really nice boy – and a rescue. It was wonderful to see how many people open their homes and hearts to second chance dogs. This particular one needs a little confidence, that's all, and maybe I'll suggest for him to join our tracking group later this year. Tracking was the best confidence builder for our Will.

My next client also had one rescue, a pure, older Cairn terrier, and another two-year-old Cairn she acquired as a pup. That one was a bit livelier, clever and spirited, and as a result easily bored. Determined to get the most out of his off-leash time, he wasn’t always convinced that following his person faithfully or obeying a recall command would yield ultimate entertainment. But we managed to find a motivator he liked enough to come when called, readily and exuberantly. Exaggerated, prolonged attention and interaction did the job, and he quickly liked it so much that he lagged behind for a different reason: not to find stimulation elsewhere, but to prompt us to call him so fun with his person could continue.

The last new dog was a Border collie cross, again a rescue. Sweet with me and so willing to work and please, she was a bit reactive with dogs and fast moving humans. Typical for collies, as long as we kept a comfortable for her distance, she was agreeable to be redirected, so I am sure that in time she’ll be fine, especially since she lucked out and found an owner who is very caring and committed and not giving up.

The remaining dogs I already knew and worked with before. One is the sweetest ever Portuguese water dog; a two-year-old female, also locally bred and on the smaller side. That is something I noticed – almost every Portie I saw was smaller than usual. Maybe from the same breeder? Maybe it’s the new flavor for Porties? In any case, this one’s only misbehavior is that she’s a little too excitable at times, and spring loaded then. The jumping, the lack of self-control, is annoying and will take a little patience to change, but she is smart and motivated, so I am sure she’ll be perfect in no-time.

The last two dogs for the day were two Cavaliers, females, adults, one insecure, the other a bossy bitch, and I mean that in a nice way. Very much in control of herself she gave most dogs “The Look” I typically only see female herding dogs use. Without meaning to trivialize her behavior, cause I believe that a lap dog should be treated like any other one and commend the owner for her commitment to teach her girls manners, it was rather amusing when she kept a boxer in line with her eyes only. We watched him straining on his leash to say hello to a small terrier just a moment prior, and when he saw the Cavs he drifted towards them, but quickly changed his mind when he picked up the hairy stare the bossy one darted. He curved out, put his owner between him and us, and inconspicuously moseyed on. The problem behavior I was there for, the barking and lunging, was easily explained. Based on what I observed, most dogs heeded her “mind your own business” signals like the boxer did, so that is what she experiences and expects, and if a dog doesn’t she becomes frustrated and turns communication up a notch. We saw that with a couple of block-headed pooches who insisted on greeting. Keeping them out of her space will curb the barking and lunging, I am sure.

So, that was my day at two parks – one off-leash and one multi-use. It was a long and busy day, and yet I was not as tired at the end of it as I anticipated. I get to this twice more before August, and am really looking forward to it. And because I am slowly figuring out my new I-phone, maybe I’ll have some visual footage the next time I post more park observations.

The Top Dog is the Dog on Top – Of Furniture?

About ten years ago I attended an aggression seminar offered through Calgary’s continued education program. Our instructor was an ex-cop, and obedience trainer with a couple of decades experience. Not particularly harsh or unreasonable, he was traditional, Koehler-style, and like many others also accepted the dominance-hierarchy theory as truth. “The top dog is the dog on top”, he said and pointed out that height seeking - a dog who wants to be above or on the same level as his human, indicates dominance. Hence, he advised that ideally no dog should have bed and sofa access, and especially not the one who shows dominance in other ways, like being reactive or “generally disobedient”.

Not much has changed since. There are numerous articles and books, written by renowned dog experts and behaviorists, that explain why dominance is rarely the root of behavioral problems, but despite that many layowners and trainers still believe that a dog’s place is on the floor, spatially below the person. But here is the problem: in real life the mental “where the dog should be” often doesn’t transfer into according and consistently enforced rules, and that is because snuggling up with the beloved hairy sidekick is very pleasing for the human.

In the olden days, while the master found pleasure in the arms of his mistress, the dog kept the lady of the palace warm at night, and attracted her fleas and lice during the day. Not only was he tolerated on the lap and in bed, but wanted there. Nowadays, we can buy blankets to keep us warm, and most of us aren’t pest infested, and perhaps the whole flea and lice thingy is a myth anyway, but the fact is that people’s longing to cozy up with someone alive is innate. Today, our homes are warmer, but our society colder. The modern human lives in a fast-paced and anonymous world, but is still touchy-feely needy and seeks an outlet, and that’s where the dog comes in; he slipped into the role of preferred soul companion, confidant, lean-on, and receiver of all those velvety emotions. And because we have so many different breeds these days, not just the traditional lap toy poochini can be found sprawled on the sofa and hogging the pillow, but dogs of all sizes.

Concurrently, resurrected “discipline over affection” and “dogs are inherently status seeking” assertions are hard to miss, and that causes conflict in many owners. On one hand, they wanna cuddle; on the other, they worry that by doing so they’re bringing out the alpha wolf in the contemporary canine.

Indeed, that is the sentiment I often hear from my clients. When I ask during a consultation where the dog sleeps, intended to find out what degree of social inclusion he enjoys, I regularly get a sheepish, apologetic or defying confession that he’s on the bed. And equally regularly my clients are surprised and relieved when I tell them that it’s okay.

Yes, some dogs can be space possessive, but most want to be on furniture because it’s soft and comfy, and smells more than any other place like their beloved person, which offers security to an insecure dog, especially when he’s home alone. Truth is that most dogs aren’t dominating us, but are needy for our help and support, much like a human dependant.

Our Will sleeps beside me on her own bed at night, and chills out in different rooms throughout the house during the day, but when we visit friends, when she is away from the safety of her home, she glues herself next to me on the couch.

Neediness was also the motivation of our recent German shepherd house guest. Responsive and obedient on and off the leash, moving out of the way when asked, not confrontational over anything, sleeping on top of hubby Mike during a thunderstorm and hiding behind me when he heard rustling in the bushes and didn’t know what it was, he is a big baby, not a dominant alpha. We had him for about two weeks, and during the first there wasn’t a moment he was physically away from us. By week two, when he felt more confident with his new surroundings and routine, he often settled with Will in another room – and on the floor.

A dog on furniture is not a problem; one who guards and defends space, is.

If our 40-pound Aussie Davie, who had a personality that covered Mike’s mattress completely, would not have moved her toenail when he climbed into bed, but snarled at him instead, then we would have had a problem warranting action.

Prohibiting access is intuitive and what most trainers recommend with a space guarder, but it is a superficial solution and rarely successful, because it doesn’t take into account that a dog confident enough to contest one resource typically does so with anything that’s important to him: the yard, entrance to your home, where his food dish is, or the space around you or himself. The aggressive behaviors aren’t expressed on bed and sofa anymore only because the dog isn’t there, but continued in different contexts.

My way, counterintuitive but effective, is to provide social inclusion and resources freely, but to make them contingent on the dog’s relaxed, attentive and polite behavior. Resource control, not prohibition, changes a dog's attitude, even with the rare social ladder climber, and then you can snuggle all you want, like we do, and never have an alpha problem.

Don't Punish the Growl

The beginning of gardening season tends to draw people out of their homes and we realized, once again, that the houses around ours are indeed occupied. Thus, I had a pleasant chat with our neighbor’s daughter recently who is parent to an 18-month-old daughter of her own, and a senior rescue mutt named Hannah. Always interested in other people’s dogs I casually inquired how Hannah was doing, and my neighbor stated that she is great, but occasionally growls at the now more mobile baby. She right away followed that statement by saying that she isn’t too concerned and feels that Hannah doesn’t want to injure the toddler, only communicates to the adults that she has had enough of small, uncoordinated hands reaching for her. How is it, I wondered, that some people understand that a dog’s growl means that she needs help, while others envision a looming blood bath?

Many people, possibly the majority, are certain that a growl is a sure-tell sign that the dog is dominant and dangerous, and without a doubt will harm someone. And out of that fear we humans, at the core prey not predator, quell the growl and expect our dog, for an entire lifetime, no matter what circumstance, only speak pleasantly. How realistic is that, eh? It’s not – not possible for any animal.

Steve White and Suzanne Clothier, two of my favorite dog gurus, argue that a growl is communication like any other one, and always coveys that distance is sought. And they are not the only ones. Many high profile, world-renowned behaviorists agree that with a growl the still self-controlled dog is sending information that the present situation isn’t working for her, and that she needs help. The dog’s intent with a growl is to prevent a bite. It’s a good thing, cause it gives you an opening to get the queasy feeling pooch out of the situation before she becomes undone.

I am not suggesting that you shouldn’t do anything about your dog’s growling, snarling, tensing or snapping, just that subduing her is barking up the wrong tree. Labeling a dog bad and dominant, without further investigation what drives the behavior, what the root cause for the tension is, creates more problems in the long run because your dog’s mind about the worrisome stimulus isn’t changed, just the expressions suppressed.

When your dog acts out, you need to deal with the pressing moment and get her out of the situation that elicited the warning, but after that you gotta focus on what really needs your attention: the underlying issues that prompted the growls. Likely, that requires the help of an experienced, positive behavior expert, because the reasons could be many and the solutions as well. So, don’t leave the matter alone, but address in a way that is productive, and responding with an assertive correction, despite its popularity, isn’t it.

That is also true for dogs that are indeed confident and aggressive. In fact, I opine that a growl is never a submissive signal. The dog could, instead of growling, surrender and walk away. In all fairness, humans often prevent that; restrain and corner the dog, not giving her the option to depart. Even then, even if growling is the dog’s plan B, it reflects a certain willingness to be confrontational. When we adopted our feral born Will she panicked about everything that had to do with humans, yet never growled. She involuntary voided, drooled excessively, stress-panted and expressed her anal sacs, but didn’t growl, never warned us to back off.

It is understandable that you’re upset when your canine sidekick, who ought to follow and obey, challenges the hand that feeds her, but forcefully crushing that part of natural, albeit undesired by us, communication backfires in a big way.

I always wonder why intelligent people believe that adding their own aggression to an already tense situation somehow diffuses it and makes it all better for the future? Believe me, it doesn’t. It creates more resistance that, provided the handler is able to physically impress the dog, might not be overtly expressed anymore, but will boil under the surface instead. Steve White calls it “removing the ticker from the time bomb”. Now you have a dog who still feels the same about you, your kids, your guests, strangers or other dogs, but doesn’t warn you anymore that there is a problem that needs to be addressed. Whenever I hear: “Suddenly she lost it” and “Bit out of the blue”, I have an idea what happened in that dog’s past. And make no mistake. A dog confident enough will explode eventually and bite you or someone else, someone weaker.

I know: dogs that warn are scary. It all sounds the same for untrained human ears, but the fact is that dogs growl for different reasons in various degrees. The one constant is that it is always a sign that she is confronted with a situation she can’t handle and that forces her to act according to what worked in the past and her abilities as a species. A dog can’t use human words, can’t say: “You (it, that) makes me nervous”, “Food is scarce and I’m hungry”, or “Boy, did you startle me”, so she growls.

Remember that you want that warning, but recognize that there is an underlying problem that needs your attention. Investigate what it is and then deal with it constructively. And don’t worry that, if you miss to respond with a punitive action of your own, you will be rewarding the dog for a behavior you don’t desire. Don’t think in terms of operant conditioning, of what you’d be reinforcing, but what your dog needs from you that eliminates tension and anxiety, and with it the need to growl.