Dog Play

Throughout this summer, to give back a little to the community that accepted and supported me for the last 4 years, I’m offering free of charge dog communication events. I live on Canada’s East Coast, so it’ll be like “whale watching with Angus”, only “dog watching with Silvia”.

The three sessions will take place at two popular off-leash parks, because unrestrained dogs, for better or worse, do what dogs do, which we will observe and I will interpret. We’ll probably see a lot play soliciting and play pausing signals, meant to prevent that the interaction escalates into something different. We’ll be watching bold, exuberant dogs and cautious ones; dogs wanting to play with everyone, others who are selective, and some who aren’t interested at all in connecting with their own species.

Not wanting to play with other dogs? Aren’t they all developmentally stunted wolves? At the core juveniles, whose highlight of the day should be a trip to the off-leash park? Simple answer: No. Dogs, like every other organism, go through all physical and mental growth stages, from puppy hood to old age, and everything in between.

True is that most canids are social by nature, and observations with feral and stray dogs suggest that they seek same-species companionship, but is that by choice, or necessity in lieu of a human friend? The question is: is a canine pal essential for a dog's welfare, or can a person adequately take its place? In my opinion, it depends.

There are dogs who never really graduate out of the sandbox, thrive being with other dogs and love playing till a ripe old age. On the opposite end are ones who exclusively want to hang out with humans. Often at a very young age they snub other dogs, consider them nuisance, not pal. I see that periodically with people friendly golden retrievers, velcro-type toys, and workaholic herding dogs - like the 6 months old Border collie I watched the other day, who was on the job with his human and the Frisbee and completely blocked out the juvenile Lab cross who tried every play soliciting behavior in his repertoire to buddy up.

But most dogs fall somewhere in the middle and benefit from having at least one canine friend. Typically, they gravitate to ones belonging to the same breed or group, because they share similar play styles and understand each other best. Like seeks like and meshes together.

Such was the case with two adult mastiffs I was hired to observe because the owner, who had just acquired the second one, wanted to be certain that their open-mouth wrestling, body checking and neck biting were friendly, not antagonistic, displays. Their interactions indeed appeared raucous, with fully exposed teeth and some vociferous growling, but it was play. How can I be so sure that it was? Because what looked and sounded intense was in fact very inhibited. Nobody got injured, and as soon as one yelped because her sensitive ear was caught, the other let off without leaving a scrap. He also let go when she rolled on her back and stopped wagging her tail. Without needing human interference, he understood that she needed a break and called it off and both, paws touching, settled beside one another, seeking closeness in play and rest.

True, proper play should be loose and fluid, and ideally excludes neck biting and collar grabbing. It should be a back and forth interaction, with one dog winning, then the other. But because of selective breeding and human manipulation, what kinda fun dogs enjoy can vary greatly, and stiff-bodies, jerked movements, and rougher contacts can fall in the normal category as long as all are willing participants. One of my friends, Adina MacRae, said it brilliantly: “Play behaviors are normal when all parties involved agree that they are”.

So, it’s okay if one dog is always the chaser and the other the chasee, as long as dog rules of play are followed: bows or toy teasing to initiate, pauses for a brief time out before things become too heated, and listening to back off signals. Nobody getting hurt even when the romping is fast and furious is an important indicator, because a playing dog has self-control. Arguably the single best sign that play isn’t turning serious is if the dog is still aware of her surroundings, including, in fact especially, the owner.

That was always the rule for my dogs. Regardless how much fun everyone had, if they were too pumped to pay attention when I called them, I cut in reminding them that I still exist, and then released back into play with a specific command - provided that everyone wanted to continue. If one dog avoided and turned away with a low tail, or anxiously had her hackles up, or tried to hump, I redirected mine into doing something else pleasurable.

Super social and goofy dogs, ones a tad more reserved and selective in the companionship they keep, and still others who tell every pooch who comes near them to get lost, I am sure me and my dog watching group will observe plenty. Perhaps we luck out and see wise, confident dogs with a lot of presence who keep an eye on the ongoings and gently split about to get out-of-control interactions, and maybe we’ll meet dogs born with a badge on their chest who impatiently order others around, even if there is no need.

What I am not so keen on, but we’ll likely see anyway, are owners grouped together yapping away, completely clueless what their dogs are up to.

Hopefully we won’t encounter disturbing stuff: a real fight, or a dog wanting nothing more than to get out-o’-there, like the young Leonberger we saw on our last excursion to the park. She was so afraid that she, ad infinitum, ran to the exit gate, just to be forced, with choke chain and leash, back in the group. Of course, flooding and not giving a rat’s tail how the dog feels is demonstrated on TV all the time, and my hunch is that’s where her owner learned how to deal with a dog's fears.

But even though coming across stupid owners is a possibility, I am really looking forward to the events. Offering them as a little thank you is only half the truth; the other is that I love watching dogs in their natural environment, which in our society are people’s homes, trails, and parks. I am doing myself a favor as much as anybody who will join me. If you live in my ‘hood, I hope to see you there. If you don’t, equip yourself with pen and paper and venture to an off-leash area near you, without your dog unless she's off leash ready and comes when called, and watch and learn. I highly recommend it.

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.

Displacement Behaviors

In “Dog Language”, Danish evolutionary biologist and ethologist Roger Abrantes writes that dogs only share 50-80% of wolf-communication in true or modified form. I read that years ago, and was happy that a scientist of international caliber pointed out that dogs’, because they live in different conditions, aren’t like wolves’. Every time that happens it counters the popular perception that our common house-canis is in its essence but a status seeking competitor we better be wary of.

To clarify, dogs’ communication is not inferior to wolves’; it is not that they lack language skills, only dropped some signals and developed others because the environment they live in demanded it. Trust me, dog-speak is not mumbled because they live in the midst of humans, like some dog-pros suggest. To the contrary, they talk very clearly with us, and because they have learned that our hands can provide and attack, bring pleasure and hurt, their lingo includes a variety of signals intended to pacify. Expressions of active and passive submission, appeasement and displacement I see a whole lot more than assertive growls and snarls. Dogs, by nature, defer to us. In relation to humans they are prey, not predator.

Most everyone has, at least rudimentarily, an idea what a dog who pleads for kindness looks like. Even non-dog-owning people understand groveling and rolling on the back, tail up the belly, whining and dribbling urine.

A different story when it comes to displacement behaviors, which, by the way, can be observed in all animals. Simplified, they are species-normal actions expressed out of context to temporarily reduce anxiety, unease, uncertainty. The pooch feels confused or pressured, needs more time or information, or simply is bored. Not necessarily proof that he was trained with corrections and fears to make a mistake, it could also be that.

Two very common signals are sniffing and scratching. Of course, dogs sniff because they’re trailing a scent or reading the “Taily News”, but if I see mine put her nose into the bush the moment neighbor’s Brutus struts down his driveway, I know that she is a bit worried and hopes that old Brut won’t, la-la-la-la-la, perceive her as someone worth paying attention to.

Certainly, a dog also scratches an itch, but when I see one during an obedience trial eagerly run for the dumbbell, but stop on the way back to scratch himself, my hunch is that he’s concerned about an, at least at times, irritable handler and my advice for him is to be less overpowering and more inviting.

A play bow, the front down, butt up mega signal that friendly interaction is sought, can also be a displacement one. Not long ago I worked with two rescues who both exhibited it in different contexts: one in front of a treat she was leash-prevented to access. Without receiving any information from me, she had no clue what to do to get the loot and bowed, an action that might have, in the past and other situations, resulted in favorable outcomes - from her point of view. It became a habit. But maybe it was her launching position; her trying to gain momentum.

The other dog, a powerful male I assessed, bowed outside a run that contained a litter of puppies, and we knew it wasn’t play because he tried to attack (the puppies weren’t harmed in any way) a few hours prior. When he saw them the second time, unlike before, they were sleeping and that detail change, from animation to stillness, threw him enough of a curveball to trigger a different behavior: bowing instead of lunging.

Described in “The Domestic Dog”, biologist Ray Coppinger observed a group of Border collies who were presented with chickens sedated just enough that they stood still when the herders stared at them. Border collies give eye in anticipation of movement, and when what they expected, the birds scattering, didn’t manifest they had a problem they didn’t know how to solve. They stopped holding eye and, in frustration, resorted to a variety of displacement behaviors, including the play bow. At first suggestion that the chickens were about to move they locked on again, resumed giving eye, like the male dog lunged for the pups again the moment one awoke and became animated.

Which displacement signals a dog gives varies and depends on circumstance, personality, and what led to desired results in the past, but it can be anything that is part of his behavioral repertoire, including digging, self-grooming and rolling over.

When insecure of all novel situations husky Chinook went belly up as soon as I tried to teach her something new, it wasn’t an attempt to appease me, but to create a pause in our interaction. I ignored the behavior and her, and she popped up a few seconds later and did exactly what I had asked for. Sadly, Chinook’s owner interpreted her action as willfulness, but fortunately I could convince her that her mild, lovely pooch did want to please me, just needed a little more time to figure out how; concerned that I might not be safe if she’d get it wrong, and that is likely based on traditional training methods she once experienced.

Such misinterpretations humans make are common, because the average dog’s bilingual skills are much better than his person’s. One of the most misunderstood behaviors is mounting. Labeled as a dominant or sexual behavior it is typically neither, but exhibited by a dog in conflict; one presented with a person, dog or situation that makes him nervous but he feels powerless to do anything about. Mounting is a not so subtle effort by the dog to control or change a situation that’s not working for him - at the moment or generally, and it can be directed at the perceived “problem”, or redirected like a redirected bite – meant for one but directed at the other.

A displacement behavior always reflects a dog’s emotional state; signals that he is indecisive, needs more information, is buying time to contemplate his next move, would rather not deal with the dilemma altogether, is overwhelmed or utterly bored. If your dog intersperses an action with a behavior that is only normal in a different context, ask yourself why. Your best response is as multifaceted as the dog’s reason. If he is just confused, it is worthwhile to wait 20-30 seconds to see if he comes up with his own perfect solution, like husky Chinook and the rescue dog who bowed in front of a food treat. Problem solving builds brainpower and confidence and we want to foster both. If he is truly concerned, help him, and if he worries a lot, proactively avoid situations that create unease, for example change training facilities and build confidence in an environment he feels less overwhelmed in. If he is chronically mounting, chances are his living arrangement, or part of it, isn’t working for him and changes might have to be made there.

Setting the pooch up for success prevents that the displacement behavior turns into a problem behavior. If it is regularly reinforced, it can become an obsession; if reinforced by the person, a habitual but annoying attention getter that is, like all addictions, difficult to undo.

What's in a Name

For me, one of the highlights of acquiring, adopting, or fostering a dog is naming him, or her. A name is not meaningless, as some trainers state, but mirrors the owner’s personality and often reflects his purpose for having a dog; his expectations and the relationship he is aiming for.

The dog’s name gives me a hint if the owner might be needy or overprotective, soft and mellow, ego-driven and on a power trip, demands mindless obedience or has a sense of humor. Typically I am right on the mark: Rottweilers Ruger and Dillinger had somewhat shady owners; Angel, the sweet pit bull blossomed under the gentle care of her loving foster mother; Romeo, a standard poodle belonged to a perfectly done up and cosmetically enhanced single female; the intact German shepherd Butler to a type A law enforcement officer, and beagle Wontlisten’s tousled person couldn’t care less about obedience, just wanted the food resource guarding to stop.

To make it unequivocally clear, taking mental name notes doesn’t mean that I compromise how I treat someone, or the methods I apply. I never judge a person before I meet him, or afterwards for that matter, cause I neither walk in their shoes nor can I help a dog if I’m disparaging with her human. I treat the name as an important piece of information that helps me to angle the consultation a certain way, so that I am the best communicator I can be, so that the dog’s person is more likely than not following my advice. That’s all.

For the dog, a name isn’t meaningless either. True, the combination of letters is, but the sound should have relevance: it ought to be her cue to pay attention. It’s her instant on-switch. You say your dog’s name and she should flip around and look at you inquisitively, like the canine version of: “Heard ya! What do want me to do?”

Attention is the foundation for anything else you want to do with your dog. When you have it, behaviors can be learned in a flash, if you don’t, obedience training is lagging and a drag. In addition, while your dog is connected to you she can’t focus on another stimulus at the same time, and that can keep her out of trouble.

Instant name attention is crucial in day-to-day life. It serves both as a cue for your dog that what you are about to do involves her somehow, and as a signal to reconnect with you. In both cases, action always follows, and it has to be rewarding quality time.

If the dog associates her name with discomfort, she is less likely to respond consistently and readily. That doesn’t change even if you sometimes reward. Ambiguity creates apprehensive, not eager, performances.

Fun interaction as the consequence for instant response guarantees that the name is not just a conditioned default attention getter, but that your dog stays connected instead of checking out after a quick glimpse in your direction.

Action always follows for another reason: a dog whose name is called, but is then left in limbo because nothing happens, learns to ignore it – and by extension you.

There is nothing more annoying than someone saying your name again and again, interrupting you at whatever you are doing, just to ignore you as soon as you look up. Even if that person were to hand over a piece of chocolate each time, but without giving you further information, you’d likely be infuriated despite the treat. You can test that with your favorite person if you like. Trust me, your dog feels similarly and will tune you out if you are nothing more than irritating white noise.

If you have a young puppy, teaching name attention is easy. A pup, although not entirely a clean slate because behaviors are partly genetic, and partly imprinted by the environment she lived in before you got her, is needy and therefore naturally attaching herself to the mighty one who owns all assets. She also feels neutral about the name you have chosen for her; not yet ambiguous, worried or uninterested. To switch it from neutral to rewarding, say it often and reinforce with fun interaction. You’re on a roll if your dog, during a game of puppy piñata, stops searching for the handful of treats you tossed out and instantly pays attention to you as soon as you call her by name.

If you are someone who rather gives an older dog a second chance, test how she feels about the name she came with. If she doesn’t respond to it, or if she averts her eyes or head, change it. For that matter, also test her with other common commands, for example the recall one “come”. If she does anything else but enthusiastically run to you, change that also.

Paying attention to her name should be the first thing you teach your puppy, or older new family member. Every considerably intelligent dog, regardless of age, can learn a new name in no time. Our Will was nameless for her first ten weeks or so of life, became Trisha after she was humanely trapped, then Sadie a couple of weeks later in her foster home, and was renamed Willkommen by us. Three different names in five months and she responded to the one we gave her within ½ hour.

You’d teach it the same way you teach the pup: make yourself interesting, possibly having the dog leashed when you practice so that she can’t walk away, say her new name and entice her to look at you, and the moment she does exaggerate your happiness and follow up with a big deal interaction, which you can name as well. Putting a word to the action will become commands you use to communicate to your dog what will happen next.

Saying a dog’s name is the best, kindest and most natural way to get her attention. We are humans with human habits. We don’t poke or electrically stimulate someone we want to connect with, but use his or her name, and that is what we should teach and apply with our dogs as well.

Give

Traditional training teaches five commands at the beginner level. Sit is one. Almost every dog I meet sits when told, or offers it for a reward cause it is, universally, possibly the most practiced behavior.

Come is another, although many dogs I meet don’t always return to their person when called, even when it’s been trained. The others are: heel for not pulling, down and stand. On their own, some owners teach “off”, intended to eliminate jumping, counter surfing and hogging the furniture, and just about everyone uses the unspecific exclamation “no” to tell the pooch he’d better knock whatever it is he’s doing off.

Abovementioned are the behaviors the general dog-owning public considers must haves, and they believe and expect that they can be mastered in an 8-week course and then guaranty a mannerly dog for life. Newsflash: it’s a delusion.

I have must-have behaviors too, but except for the recall “come”, and one position, either sit or down, mine are different ones. In my opinion, what a pup or newly adopted dog should learn first are: offer eye contact attention, respond to his name, entertain himself when given the “all-done” command, shift his focus from an environmental stimulus to his person when told to “leave” it, and release whatever he’s got between his teeth when told to “give”.

The benefits of those foundation behaviors are obvious: you get your dog’s attention when you need it; he stops pestering you when you’ve had enough; you have off-leash control if your dog reliably leaves this or that on command, checks in with you and comes on recall.

Why give is so important is also obvious. A dog who releases on command, voluntarily, whatever he has in his mouth won’t eat or destroy it, and won’t aggress over it. It keeps him from getting sick, your possessions intact, and makes a game of fetch or tug much more pleasurable.

As with any behavior, voluntarily only happens if taught without force, cause force fosters resentment and competition, and with that comes confrontation, suspicion and guarding. Now, some say that you never get reliable obedience unless you convince your dog that you can make him – in fact just today I read guidelines from another trainer who uses leather gloves as part of her tools when she teaches “give”, but I argue that you get more reliable obedience from a dog when it is more rewarding for him to listen to you than not.

Teaching Rover to release voluntarily is easy. The exercise most people are probably familiar with is the trade-up game. Prerequisite is that you know what your dog likes. What, and how passionately, because for the exercise you need to have a number of material resources handy, staggered from low-valued to higher-valued. The leather-glove trainer starts with the highest valued bone, and that’s why she needs to protect her hands cause the dog might bite when she forces it out of his mouth.

My advice is the opposite: to begin with something the pooch is interested in, but that’s not all too important. Let him have it for a bit, and then wave an item in front of his nose he cares a little more about. Chances are Fangs drops what’s in his jaws to grab the better thing, and that is a good time to combine the give command with the behavior. Repeat that several times, always trading up, and end the game with giving him something of high value he can keep. In other words, hand him the last resource, then tell him “all-done”, check out and leave him in peace with his booty. Repeat often, daily, several times a day, whenever you have a minute or two. You are instilling resource security, and once your dog has that he won’t object if you have to take something away from him without trading it in for something else.

If toys float his boat, a variation is to pretend that you have an incredibly good time with one his other toys. Let’s say your dog has a ball or Frisbee he doesn’t want to give up. Have an identical one ready, or a squeakier one, or a new one, and seemingly mesmerized toss it in the air, talk to it if you must, or sniff it, all the while ignoring the pooch. I bet he’ll join you in a flash to get in on your game, and will drop whatever he has to make room in his mouth for your, at that time much more desired, toy.

Another way to teach "give" without force, especially if you eventually want to tug with your dog, is chase‘n’catch. Many dogs resist releasing the tug toy, something prey-like they have in their mouth, and if the human insists and pulls back, or tries to pry the mouth open, the interaction becomes competitive. Depending on personality, the dog either finds that super rewarding or, if he feels powerful enough, seriously challenges you. Tug getting out of control doesn’t happen if the dog learns that catch’n’give leads to more chase’n’catch.

The game begins with you dragging a long toy, or a toy attached to a light rope, behind you. Almost every dog’s interest is instantly keened when something is in motion, and he’ll be highly motivated to catch it. As soon as he is about to lay his teeth on it, say take it, stop moving and toss a treat out. In all likelihood, especially if you have something super yummy, your dog will let go of the toy to snatch the bait. When he does, you again combine behavior with a “give” command, then run away again dragging the toy behind you. Releasing the toy becomes doubly rewarding for your dog because he gets a piece of delectable food and a continuation of a prey-chase game, and that’ll motivate him to release again when asked. Grabbing and giving happens in fast, repetitive successions until your dog understands and obeys the take and give commands. You can test that by dangling the toy in front of his face - he should not grab it until told so. If he does, don’t jerk the toy up, because it increases arousal and entices him to jump. Let him have it, but disconnect from the action and ignore him completely. The fun with you stops abruptly and entirely, and life becomes boring for your dog if he doesn’t play by your rules. As soon as he drops the toy, reward, pick it up and start playing again.

Once giving on command is a habit, you don’t need the treat distraction any longer. Continuation of the game is the sole reinforcement.

Releasing a treasure into the boss’s hands requires a certain amount of trust. That has to be established by you, and fun, rewarding training is the way to do it. Once your dog is convinced that whatever he possesses is safe with you, he’ll bring and give it up instead of running away from you, including something he finds or catches on his own.

Breeds, Pit Bulls, Aggression and BSL

A couple of weeks ago a woman in Yarmouth, a town in the province I presently reside in, was mauled by a dog. Badly mauled. So badly that she had to be airlifted to the province’s capital hospital. The dog who did the mauling was, according to media reports, a pit bull type. Often the media jumps to premature conclusions whenever a dog inflicts newsworthy injuries, but it appears that in this incident it was indeed a, what’s broadly understood, pit bull. I say broadly, cause while some dog insiders differentiate between the American Pit Bull Terrier, the American Staffordshire Terrier, the Staffordshire Bull Terrier, and the American Bull Terrier, the general public tends to lump every stocky-built, thick-muscled and block-headed dog into the pit bull category, and in this post for reasons of simplification, I’ll do the same.

As expected, because that always happens when a pit bull attacks, the evolutionary cream of the crop connects da brain cells what to do about that breed in particular, and other dangerous ones in general. Which brings up the question, one I am periodically asked, if there are breeds inherently aggressive and dangerous.

I am professionally involved with dogs since 1995, met and handled many. Name the breed and chances are that I worked with at least a few members of it - fewer rare and tiny ones, but plenty of popular purebreds, mutts and pit bulls. The two humane societies I volunteered for had a mandatory assessment policy for every incoming pit, Rottweiler and German shepherd, exactly because of the perception and hyper-fixation the public has with these dogs. One shelter had several volunteer assessors, for the other one I did most of the temperament evaluations.

A common comment I get from people I meet socially and professionally is that I must get bitten a lot, considering my line of work and all. The answer is no. I am not, actually, mainly because I comprehend and heed dogs’ subtler communication. Only 6 dogs throughout my career drew blood, and none of the bites warranted a trip to the hospital. They were:

1 Pomeranian

2 Lhasa Apsos

1 teacup poodle

1 Australian shepherd

1 Malamute

After some time, I was able to work safely with every dog but the Pomeranian. No, I am not kidding. Of course, I could have overpowered him physically, but that is not my style. Fueling aggression with aggression doesn’t change how the dog feels about life.

Several other dogs are firmly stuck in my memory because they made me feel very uneasy, but either were managed well and didn’t have the chance to bite, or were self-controlled and didn’t follow through when I responded “appropriately” to their warnings, or I was able to redirect with a motivator that was higher valued than biting me. They were:

1 Malinois

1 Tervuren

1 Maremma

1 Shar Pei

1 Wheaten terrier

2 Rottweilers

3 German shepherds

1 Newfoundland dog

1 shepherd/Lab cross

1 shepherd with whatever cross

1 Cocker spaniel

1 golden retriever

2 beagle crosses

1 Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever

1 husky/shepherd cross

2 Border collies

1 Australian shepherd

5 pit bulls

1 Greyhound

1 Tibetan mastiff

1 Akita

After spending some time with the dog, I was comfortable with: one of the Rottis, one of the German shepherds, the Cocker spaniel, the toller, the Aussie, one of the Border collies, the Wheaten, the golden, the Greyhound, the Terv, one of the beagle crosses, two of the pit bulls, the shepherd with whatever cross, and the Akita.

So, quantitatively more iffy shepherds and pits than any other breed, but keep in mind that proportionally I meet many more pit bulls and shepherds than Tibetan mastiffs or Shar Peis.

Let’s turn this around and focus on the opposite. Dogs fascinate me and I enjoy working with all of them, regardless of breed, but sometimes I meet one who stands out and I fall in love with. In love, for me, means that the pooch is so amazing that someone needs to tie my hands or I’d stuff him in my pocket on the way out. Naturally, in love happens a lot with dogs I have an affinity for: the herders, shepherds and giants, but I there are also a few others that breed-wise aren't necessarily my type to own, but individually made such an impression that I wished I could have. Rufus, the pit bull/Chow cross who belongs to a friend; Frosty Boy, the Greyhound right off the tracks we fostered; Jude, the biggest and sweetest Rottweiler-with-a-tail I had the privilege to work with at one of the humane societies, and two pit bulls whose names I forgotten because I met them only once, and that a few years ago.

These two pits were especially sweet and trustworthy, but truth is that most I meet I like a lot, because they are friendly with humans and very gentle; so soft-mouthed that I rarely feel teeth when they take a treat. That, by the way, includes many I assessed at the shelters and I knew were raised by, or at one time lived with, well, let’s call them shady characters.

If that is so, then why do we have a problem big enough that some jurisdictions across North America and parts of Europe already ban them, and many others are contemplating it?

Dogs, especially selectively bred ones, can have genetic, hardwired behavioral traits that are sometimes profound and deep-rooted. For example:

Herding dogs and sight hounds can be motion sensitive and react to anything that moves;

Field dogs hyper-stimulated by the environment and pumped when outside even without additional triggers present;

Small and midsize dogs used to confront or control feisty animals of different species can be quite tenacious;

Scent hounds governed by their schnoz –

And dogs bred for fighting can be hyper-aware of, and reactive to whatever animal they’ve been bred to fight.

Predisposition means genetic propensity. For the behavior to surface it needs the corresponding environment, but even then it doesn’t automatically spell trouble. Breed specific drives are an asset when channeled properly. That’s why people bred dogs in the first place: to establish behavioral characteristics exploitable for human purposes.

The pit bull’s purpose, traditionally, was (and we sadly still have dog fights everywhere in North America) to come out on top when fighting another dog, thereby making his owner a ton of money. The best, the winners, not only live to see another day but also procreate to bring forth more potential winners, much like people breed the best race horses, working Border collies, pointers and so on.

What traits do people want in a fighting dog? Strength, determination, persistence, courage, endurance, lack of inhibition, pain insensitivity, and a willingness to confront, and pit bulls can possess all of those. In addition, because they work with humans and against dogs, they are human-oriented, loyal and highly motivated to please their owner. None of these hardwired behaviors are bad ones, unless the dog ends up with an aggressive human. Then, taking his person's lead, his powerful predispositions can become disastrous to others.

And here comes the really bad news for pit bulls. Because they sport an intimidating exterior and a bad reputation, they are more attractive to human aggressive humans than a lolling retriever is, and that’s why they are in news more often than goldens.

In May, the town where the horrific attack happened plans for a public hearing to discuss dog issues and a new dog bylaw. I’d be all for legislative changes if it were centered on the real causes why dogs attack, all dogs, not just pit bulls. In essence, it is dog welfare, or rather the lack thereof, that should be addressed. Presently our lawmakers consider food, however substandard, a doghouse, and a heated water dish at the end of a chain good enough. Not only the laws thinks it good enough, but many people do as well, and that’s why my dog welfare bylaw would include mandatory education, a “Behavior and Dog Requirement 101" weekend course for every new dog owner, and everyone cited for bylaw violations. A dog welfare bylaw must guarantee that every dog has social acceptance and inclusion, training and, specific to breed and individual, mental and physical stimulation. A dog whose welfare is good might not be perfect, but won’t escalate into the blood-orgy, rip-fest aggression that happened in Yarmouth.

The dog welfare bylaw must absolutely stipulate who is allowed to breed and sell dogs, and have a provision that a dog whose owner fails to manage him properly, misjudges situations and endangers others, could be seized and placed with humans better equipped.

Obviously, such legislation has to allow, no demand, that charges-with-bite are laid against anybody who intentionally fosters aggression directed against other dogs or humans. Scum who deliberately, sometimes successfully, turn a dog into an alive weapon; a booby trap for house and property, ought to be charged with weapon offences, and should lose their right to own a dog. Ever. Period.

Although such a bylaw would take care of the dog problem at its core, it’s unlikely that it’ll be discussed, let alone implemented. Not here; pretty much not anywhere. I am betting my best leather leash that the upcoming talks will hub around BSL – breed specific legislation that scapegoats the dog and deflects from incompetent humans; picks the easiest solution to pacify public outcry, even if it’s a superficial one.

When people ask me if I am for or against BSL, I answer against with a “but” attached. Against, because it is so wrong to punish responsible “bully” owners and their wonderful representatives of the breed, and there are many of them. Good dogs and good people would suffer, while bad people and their made vicious dogs flourish underground, cause 100% enforcement is unlikely. In addition, the argument can be made that mean people simply choose another breed they’ll make mean, and that our lawmakers, not long after one breed is banned, would sit around the table again scratching their heads what could be done about the dangerous dog problem. Plausible, right?

Right in theory, cause the reality is, and that’s where my “but” comes in, that an aggressive pit bull is more powerful, more unstoppable, and more uninhibited than many other breeds. Reality also is that well-meaning, good-hearted folks can underestimate and misjudge the pit’s power, and the dog becomes a liability because of that. I base that opinion on more than 15 years of training, assessing, consulting and field research. Trust me, I much rather deal with a let-loose basset than a let-loose pit bull. I wasn’t too concerned when our neighbor’s undersocialized and always penned-up Labrador escaped once and charged at Will. I could stop him. I am also able to stop the dog-aggressive shepherd mix at the end of the street. Would our other neighbor’s pit bull exhibit the same behaviors, I’d be much more worried and alert.

Dog welfare legislation is too complicated a task for the self-proclaimed intelligent masterpiece, and that’s why I think that sooner or later pit bulls will be banned in more places than they are permitted. Unjustified as it is, perhaps they need to be. Because we’re not creating laws that prohibit negligent, useless and ham-fisted people from breeding and owning dogs; because we don’t expect, legislate and enforce that each dog lives in an environment that doesn’t make him dangerously anxious, aggressive, panicked, vicious or insane, we have to get rid of the breeds capable of inflicting the most damage.