The Waiting is the Hardest Part

I've come to realize the value of waiting when working with a dog. This doesn't come naturally to me, what I want to do is to give commands and make sure they are followed so I feel in control of the situation. Gradually though, I've learned how effective it is to give the dog some space to think, and wait for them to make their own decision.

Sometimes this means waiting for a long time. I recently worked with Missy, a poodle-mix pup who was a delight at the dog park and at home, but terrified of everything on walks with her owner. Unlike my reactive dogs, sweet Missy would just freeze and stare with wide eyes. New people were her biggest fear, and large groups of people were horrifying. She knew plenty of obedience commands, but was so terrified of strangers that she could not follow commands or even eat treats in the presence of scary people. (This made me appreciate my food-motivated dogs, who will eat in the presence of nearly any stressor.)

We took Missy out to a big open park that was hosting an after school basketball program. The plan was to use the BAT method of teaching her more successful ways of coping with her anxiety. A big part of this training involves watching the dog carefully, and rewarding appropriate behaviors by immediately moving away from the scary thing.

Missy, her owner, and I started at the far end of the park from the busy basketball courts. Missy walked along politely on a loose leash as we strolled across the grass. When we were halfway across the park, Missy froze abruptly and stared wide-eyed at the kids on the court.

This was where we did something Missy's mom had never tried before. Rather than compelling the spooked dog to continue moving, or telling her to turn her attention away from the scary thing and toward her owner, we just stopped and waited. Missy's owner and I chatted, keeping an eye on Missy while just hanging out in the middle of the park with a frozen dog.

Ten minutes into our conversation, Missy dropped her nose to the ground to sniff. She didn't normally sniff on walks, for whatever reason she seemed to be missing this important coping mechanism. She only rediscovered it when we allowed the time and the space she needed to think. In this case, she needed ten minutes to process the situation.

Most of the time, I don't feel like waiting ten minutes for my dog to think about what they are going to do. However, waiting has become an invaluable tool, particularly in situations where the dog is not moving. There was simply no way Missy was going to stand there in the middle of the park staring forever, eventually she was going to have to do something and we were prepared to reward any movement at all. Waiting can also work well for dogs that don't reliably bring the ball back, or drop it partway.

Brisbane used to think barking was a big part of playing ball on the beach with the Chuckit. He would drop the ball and shriek his best heeler shriek until I threw it again. After years of this pattern, I finally decided enough was enough. I gathered my greatest store of patience and took Briz to the beach on a quiet day. That day, I decided, I would not pick up the ball until he laid down. I wasn't going to tell him this, he was going to have to figure it out.

When we arrived at the beach and headed down the sand to play ball, Brisbane started barking. I froze and waited. He barked more and more insistently for about five minutes and then finally stopped and started at me. After a couple more minutes of confusion I gave him a hint and motioned for him to lay down.

The best thing about waiting for all eternity is that you usually only have to do it once. The next time I picked up the ball, Brisbane barked a couple of times and then laid down to see if that would get me to throw it. Missy the poodle mix was able to walk much closer to the kids in the park a few minutes after her big freeze, and when she did stop again she started sniffing the grass almost immediately. Both of these were big breakthroughs that never would have happened if I'd gotten impatient and tried to force the issue.

Bad Touch

I have this really crazy idea that my dogs should be allowed a certain degree of body autonomy. I know this is radical, but stay with me here. Body autonomy is a pretty progressive concept with human children as well, but it's one worth considering. The basic idea is that your body is your own, and you have the right to determine how people touch you.

How does this pertain to dogs? Well, they already think they should have body autonomy. When a dog is uncomfortable with another dog intruding on their space, they make it known through body language by stiffening up, lifting a lip, growling, or maybe even snapping. This is not an attempt to "exert dominance" or "be the boss". It is not "being mean". It's just communication, the only way a dog has to say "I'm not comfortable with that".

Dogs also tell people that they are not comfortable with intrusions into their personal space, or having their bodies handled in certain ways. Unfortunately, most people don't seem to be listening. Many think they are listening, but get the wrong message entirely. So much of canine communication with humans is viewed as disrespect, or bad behavior without any further thought expended on the matter.

I feel extremely lucky to have very sensitive dogs that do a fantastic job of letting me know what they are and aren't cool with. They are also tough as nails and will not back down from a confrontation, so using force to get my way is likely to get both of us injured and/or traumatized. Australian cattle dogs are very mouthy dogs, and Brisbane and Sisci will both gently mouth my hand to let me know when I've reached their limits. If I try to force the issue, they will start nipping and eventually would probably actually bite me. I could overpower them, but that would end with a sad, fearful dog that gives no warning before they bite. 

Of course, it is absolutely necessary to physically handle our dogs sometimes. We have to provide grooming and medical care, and sometimes just move them from one place to another for their own well-being. How do we respect their body autonomy while accomplishing all of that? By simply listening, and asking permission whenever possible before touching a dog that is asking not to be touched.

My dogs and I agree that it's rude to walk up and grab someone with no warning. A lot of dogs have learned that a hand grabbing their collar means bad things, so they stiffen up, back up, or even mouth the grabbing hand. This isn't disrespect, it just means "That's scary, please stop." However, leading a dog via a hand on their collar is very effective when they need to be moved and don't understand where to go. When I handle skittish or mouthy dogs, I make an effort to reach around the bottom or side of their head instead of over the top where they'll find hands threatening. Move slowly, pet their shoulder or chest a little bit, and then gently take the collar and apply the minimum pressure required to get them moving. This says "I know you don't like this so let me show you that it isn't scary and show you what I want you to do."

Likewise, with any sort of touching, I try my best to read body language and respect the signals I see. If a small dog needs to be picked up and gets stiff and growly, I slow down and pet non-threatening areas until they relax a little before trying to scoop them up.

The same idea goes for grooming and handling for medical reasons. When I have a dog on the grooming table for a nail trim, I always talk to them and ask permission to touch. "Can I see your foot?" with a hand running from their shoulder down to their paw instead of just abruptly grabbing their leg. This seems like basic decency, but I see far too many people handling dogs like they have every right to do whatever they like. 

Body autonomy for dogs only goes so far, and ultimately we humans have to do what we have to do. Still, I think we owe it to them to pay attention when they politely tell us they don't like being handled in certain ways. It's our job to help them feel at ease, and teach them via counter-conditioning and just plain respectful handling that it's not so scary after all.

Five Bad Behaviors I Reward My Dogs For

Good dog training involves not rewarding unwanted behaviors, right? This is what I thought for years, and when Brisbane and I were doing UKC obedience trials it was what I focused on. Each week we'd attend a practice with half a dozen other handlers. Between exercises, most of the other dogs would sit or lay quietly, casually keeping an eye on their handler. Mine had his nose glued to the ground and at times seemed completely oblivious to my presence. I would ask Brisbane to watch me, to sit or lay down, to stay, to STOP SNIFFING ALREADY! It was a nonstop parade of cues, treats, and then Briz resuming whatever it was he had been doing. I usually ran out of treats before the end of class, and he never got any better.

Photo by Erin Koski

Ten years later, Sisci and I are taking an agility class. With time and experience on my side, I'm taking the exact opposite approach and rewarding the behaviors I don't want. I've found this works incredibly well, both in group classes and in everyday life. By the end of any given class, Sisci is focused on me, tuning out the environment, and so relaxed she chooses to lay down and rest.

Here are five completely counterintuitive things I reward my dogs for:

1. Barking and growling at people. 

Sisci is unsure about most people, and her first response to someone breaching her comfort zone is to warn them away. Agility class is held inside a fenced field within a larger park, and there are lots of people in sight for her to worry about when she's not zooming through tunnels or sailing over 8" jumps (or sailing over tunnels when she's feeling particularly creative). Instead of asking her to look away from the scary people by asking for her attention, I mark and reward her staring and woofing. A few treats later, she is much more interested in playing this game than angsting about that rogue human on the sidewalk.

2. Freaking out at other dogs. 

As above, the only reason Sisci screams and snaps at other dogs is because she they make her nervous. Instead of asking her to look at me, I mark and reward her fixating on the other dog. Whether it's a passing dog in the park or a super-snappy border collie doing victory laps after a jump sequence, the anxiety-producing situation becomes a cue for cookies and a good reason to focus on me.

3. Pulling on leash. 

Photo by Erin Koski

Believe it or not, most dogs don't even seem aware that they are pulling on leash. They know they
want to go in a particular direction, and they know you sometimes get annoyed and stop, pull back, yank, or make them change directions. What they don't know is that leash tension is the specific trigger for these behaviors in their human. I like to use a clicker to mark leash tension, and then run backwards so the dog has to zoom back to me for their treat. It's a lot of fun to see a dog have a lightbulb moment when they suddenly realize that pulling is what causes this celebration. Most people think this should result in a dog that pulls like a freight train, but instead it creates a dog that is both acutely aware of leash tension and tuned in to the person on the other end. Once the dog knows how the game works, they understand how to investigate all the wonderful smells without hitting the end of the leash.

4. Pestering the cats. 

Actually, I try to mark and reward merely noticing the cats, before the dogs get really interested. Cats are weird, creepy little freaks. They make all sorts of funky noises, they move erratically and seemingly without direction or reason, yet they are clearly recognizable as sentient beings rather than furry jellyfish. We make our dogs live with the pet equivalent of schizophrenic hobos and expect them to mind their manners even when the other guy defies all social conventions. A whole lot of dogs learn to politely tolerate a range of bizarre cat behaviors without ever feeling truly at ease about the whole situation. To help my dogs relax when cats are being cats, I routinely reward them when someone is climbing the drapes, racing from room to room, or hissing in their face At first they get a cookie just for seeing a cat, or hearing cats thunder around the house.

5. Jumping up on people. 

This isn't the same for every dog, but I actually like to see Sisci jump up on people. She's quite leery of strangers, and right now it's only reasonable to expect her to exist in their vicinity. Ignoring them is fine, actual interaction is usually too much pressure. Very occasionally, while I'm casually conversing with someone, Sisci will cautiously stand up and put her front paws on them. This is the least-threatening way she has found to interact with a scary new person, and doesn't cause them to loom over her. So far she has only done this with some of my trainer friends, who totally understand what a big step it is. Brisbane can be an impolite greeter and sometimes wants to clobber people with his feet, but I'm happy to see Sisci attempt any greeting at all. We'll work on polite greeting when it happens more often.

Product Review: Simple Solution Washable Male Wrap

Simple Solution's Washable Male Wraps are basically cloth doggy diapers for boys that just can't keep their pee to themselves. The wrap goes around the waist and over the penis to prevent urinary marking, excitement peeing, and housetraining accidents. The wraps are available in three sizes to fit dogs up to 90 lbs.

Photo by Erin Koski

 I'm told it's possible to fully and reliably housetrain a chihuahua, but I'm not sure I believe it. Part of the problem is that tiny dogs produce really tiny amounts of pee, so it's tough to find accidents in a timely fashion. Normally finding a puddle means someone needs to do remedial 

Housebreaking 101 for the next month, with constant supervision, leash tethering, and crating when unattended. However, a chihuahua pee spot can go unnoticed for weeks until I realize that something stinks. When did this happen? Did he pee on anything else? We can do remedial house training again, but how do I know when he's actually reliably waiting to go outside?

My vet and I have had lengthy and animated discussions about Ru and his peeing in the house. She says it doesn't really fit any of the typical housebreaking issues, and seems to be entirely unique. It's not incontinence, it's not excitement peeing, and it's not marking behavior. He seems to just be willing to pee wherever's convenient sometimes. Most dogs won't potty in their favorite sleeping spot, some have Dirty Puppy Syndrome and don't care a bit if they're sleeping in pee. Ru will pee in his own bed and then cry because he can't sleep there because it has pee on it. We tested and treated him for a bladder infection, but it did not entirely resolve his tendency to occasionally pee on nice comfy beds where he himself likes to rest, or on his favorite toys which then become a source of distress because they now have pee on them. Personally, I think he's just really dumb.

At any rate, a belly band is a nice way to make sure that Ru only pees on himself. I've used some that were just plain rectangles with velcro, but these seem to work a lot better. They close with a big velcro strip that runs the full width of the band. There is elastic around the rest of it to help keep it snug. The small size is supposed to fit dogs up to 15 lbs, Ru is 6.5 lbs with a Barbie waist and it stays on him very well. He seems to be totally comfortable wearing it, and so far has not even attempted peeing in it. Unlike wraps made to hold a disposable pad, these are themselves absorbent. The extra layers give the fabric more rigidity and keep it from bunching.

Pros: Washable and lasts through a lot of washings. Resists bunching and really stays in place.

Cons: With only three sizes available, I'm sure at least some people have fitting issues. A really determined dog will figure out how to slither out of this.

Bottom Line: Better than the homemade and rectangular ones I've used in the past. A lot of boys only want to pee on things, and won't even bother when they realize they're only peeing on themselves.

Sniffing: More Important Than You Think

Sniffing is just how dogs check out smells, right? Well that's part of it, but there's actually quite a lot more going on when your dog has their nose to the ground. They may be collecting information, but they could also be trying to calm themselves, reassure someone, or diffuse an escalating social situation. There's a time and a place for getting our noses up off the ground, but I think it's worthwhile to ponder what's really going on for a moment.

Photo by Erin Koski

The Zen of Sniffing

I like to think of sniffing as a dog's personal "me time", their chance to withdraw into their own head for a little while. As a major introvert, I definitely understand needing that chance to pull back and recharge. When I need to take a break from the world, I like to read a book. When Brisbane needs to take a break from the world, he sniffs the ground.

This took me a lot of years to learn, and for a long time I thought Briz was just getting distracted. Obviously he thought the smells on the ground were just more interesting than me, and I needed to work harder at being the most exciting thing in the world to my dog. This was endlessly frustrating while we were doing UKC obedience trials because mine seemed to be the only dog who couldn't keep his nose off the ground. 

At practice I would ask for attention and feed him treats constantly, but the instant he had the treat in his mouth his nose would drop to the ground again. All the other dogs could calmly sit or lay down in between exercises, mine was constantly, endlessly searching the grass. It wasn't until I had quit formal obedience that I read Control Unleashed and realized Brisbane found the whole sport to be incredibly stressful. 

Sniff Away the Stress

Photo by Erin Koski

Dogs use sniffing as a calming signal, a way to help themselves relax or tell another dog that they are not a threat. However, some dogs don't know how to use sniffing to help them unwind. 

I've been working with a young poodle mix who is generally anxious about the world around her. She responds to alarming sights and sounds by freezing in place. She's not particularly motivated by food, but absolutely loves praise.

At our last training session, her handler and I just stood with her for a while in the middle of a grassy park. We all watched some children playing at a playground at the far end, and waited for the pup to do something other than freeze and stare in horror. After almost ten minutes she dropped her nose to the ground and we told her what a magnificent dog she was for having a sniff. This immediately led to more sniffing. After another amble around the park, we walked toward the playground again. This time we got much closer to the kids before she froze. A moment later she began sniffing the grass, and we speedwalked away from the playground and declared it a victory for the day.

Sometimes a Sniff is Just a Sniff

Of course, not every sniff is an attempt to relieve stress, especially if you have a beagle or other scenthound. The world is a big, exciting place full of amazing scents that we humans will never truly understand. Some dogs do indeed need to learn to get their noses off the ground and focus on their handlers, but I think intense sniffing should be a part of most adventures. As a devout bookworm, I like to think of sniffing as reading with their noses. If my happily engaged dog suddenly abandons me to delve into a book, it's either a really good novel or there's something he needs to escape from.

How Do I Get My Dog to Stop Barking at Everything?

What do you do with a dog that barks at every single noise and person passing by the house? Is there a way to end all the barking without resorting to a shock or spray collar? Is moving out to the countryside or finding a new home for the dog the only option?

Photo by Erin Koski

The Dilemma

A major downside to owning high-energy herding dogs in the middle of town is their tendency to want to alert me to every single thing happening in the neighborhood. We live in a very, very busy neighborhood. It's an extremely high-density area, especially for a place where nothing is more than two stories high. Many, many people lack their own vehicle, and tons of people walk. At any given moment there are probably a couple of cars passing by, a handful of people walking, and probably a bike or two. Skateboards are the most exciting thing, loud and fast-moving, and usually accompanied by shouting.

We do not have a backyard. Behind my house is another house, with a driveway running past us. Most of the lots in my neighborhood are the same way, including the one next door which actually has three different houses on the small property. This means I have a driveway running just outside the windows on either side of the house, with people coming and going all day and night. In back we have the neighbors, who spend a lot of time outside and really like to skateboard. In front we have our tiny yard surrounded by a short chain link fence, and on the other side of that is the street with no sidewalk between.

All this is to say that, when we first move in, Brisbane found a great many things to bark about. Kids skateboarding down the driveway! Random person walking down the street! Leafblower! Special needs people with weird gaits from the housing project across the street! So much barking. First I tried rewarding him every time we heard a sound that I knew would set him off, but this required constant vigilance on my part and often I wasn't even certain what had set him off. When frustrated I would squirt him a squirt bottle or yell at him to knock it off, but that didn't convince him that skateboards were not the sound of impending doom.

Making Things Boring

What did finally work was a solution I got from someone online that lived in an apartment with a barky dog. Their advice was to have the dog drag a leash, and every time she barked they would silently and calmly take the leash and walk the dog to the bathroom, turn on the light, and shut her in there. When she had been quiet for a minute or two, they would open the door and go back to whatever it was they had been doing. Repeat every time the dog barks until they stop barking at stuff.

This worked remarkably well for Brisbane, so much that he stopped reacting to the sound of skateboards at all. He would still like to bite them when he sees them rolling, but the sound of them no longer gives him fits. Likewise, he no longer bats an eye or ear when people walk down the street and have loud and inexplicable conversations at 2am. The first day Briz barked a normal amount and I quietly escorted him to the bathroom at least fifty times before he began to bark less. By day two he was almost completely silent, and within a week he was ignoring those skateboarders like a pro.

Why Does It Work?

The reason why the silent and neutral time out works is because the bathroom is really boring. The fan makes some white noise that blocks out everything else, there's no window, and there's nothing to do in there. A bored dog might eventually unroll the toilet paper or tip over the trash, but for a couple of minutes most dogs seem to just chill out. If I had an especially naughty or bathroom-phobic dog, I would be doing their time outs in a different location, like a back room if they always bark at things out front, or tied to a doorknob in a hallway. I'd like to avoid using the crate because I don't want to make it an unhappy place by having to shove them in there. With the bathroom I can just walk the dog through the door and then leave.

Doing nothing is a good way for a dog to chill out a little, but it's tough for them to chill when they are stressed or afraid. This is why I keep a leash on them, so I can calmly pick it up off the floor without having to reach directly for the dog when I'm already kind of pissed. Ideally, I want them to go from "look! something to bark at!" to "*sigh* booooring" without worrying that I might do something scary in between. This is important, because I am trying hard to chain their overly-excited behavior to calm chill-out time.

Attaching blah, dull time to excitement behavior can help to make that behavior and its trigger less exciting. It's sort of like a rollercoaster, hear a skateboard, leave the loading area. Start barking, go up the big hill. Calmly walk to the bathroom, go down the hill and get off the ride. As the association between barking and chilling out gets stronger, the hill gets smaller. The dog goes from "I hear stuff, I bark, I chill out" to "I hear stuff, I chill out".

But It Totally Works

It's been a while since I've had barking issues with Brisbane, but Sisci spent her first few months on a rural property with minimal surrounding traffic and lots of space between neighbors. Coming to town with me was a big change, and she is pretty sure that the neighbors are coming to kill us all. Every car door slam, note of mariachi music, or shrieking child is cause for alarm. Often I don't even know what it is she's barking about. This evening I was especially frustrated and finally thought about how to solve the problem. I remembered what I did with Brisbane, and it has worked beautifully. So far we have made a dozen trips to the bathroom and already her big barks have become little woofs. Getting up to put her in time out over and over again will be totally worth it when she can handle the daily sounds of our neighborhood stress-free.

A Xena Update

Foster puppy Xena has been here for about six weeks now. She has adjusted rather well and continues to improve. Her last stay with us lasted two weeks, and she was basically too frightened to do anything at all. This time around she is gradually getting used to the sights and sounds of town.

Xena goes to doggy daycare with me every day, and she plays very well with other silly puppies. She knows how to swim, I even have pictures of her swimming with Brisbane. However, she sometimes forgets. She keeps falling in the swimming pool and work and forgetting how to swim, and after fishing her out a couple of times we have stopped letting her play near the pool.

I am now absolutely certain that Xena's vision is compromised, but getting her eyes checked is not a priority for the rescue, and not something I can afford to do on my own. I have been letting potential adopters know that she doesn't see perfectly, but it's obvious that she can see fairly well.

Xena spins in circles when she is excited, stressed, or confused. She always, always, always spins to the right, which makes me think there is a neurological component to the behavior. I have a theory that she may have been hit by a car or suffered some other major trauma when she was very young. That would account for the marked behavioral difference between Xena and her sisters, as well as her imperfect vision and tendency to move in circles.

In the last six weeks, Xena has learned to walk on a bungee leash with the help of a Thundershirt. She feels confident enough to walk instead of freezing, even in a busy parking lot, or while crossing a high-traffic street. She is still a little bit nervous when meeting new people, but is all wags once she gets a sniff. It takes her a while to warm up to new places, so I have been taking her on plenty of outings so that seeing new things because normal.

I have had several people ask how Xena is with kids, and until today I did not have a satisfactory answer. She was socialized with them quite a bit as a baby puppy, and she is less spooky about them than she is about big people. I don't have kids though, and none of my friends do either, so I haven't been able to see how she reacts. Her previous foster mom just told me today that her best buddy over there was the neighbor's four-year-old granddaughter. Knowing that she has spent many hours playing with a preschooler really helps.

Does your dog like kids?

Product Review: Thundershirt

The Thundershirt is a dog jacket that helps reduce anxiety by applying pressure like a big hug. It is available in a variety of colors and styles, and comes in seven sizes to fit dogs under seven pounds through dogs over 110 pounds.

Photo by Erin Koski

This is a pretty awesome tool for helping dogs with major anxiety, mostly because it works instantly and with no training. Just wrap the dog up in it, and four out of five of them will chill out at least a little.

How does the Thundershirt work? It's basically like a hug. At work, when a dog is terrified of getting their nails trimmed, we have one person wield the clippers while a second person holds the dog. The most effective hole involves wrapping one arm around the front of the dog's chest below the windpipe, and the other arm around the dog's body over the shoulders and behind the front legs. When held firmly against the person's body like this, most dogs relax enough to have their nails cut.

The type of pressure applied when hugging someone, or restraining a dog like this, is called "deep pressure". This type of pressure can be used to help calm and focus autistic kids. People have been wrapping dogs up in athletic bandages to calm them down for years, but getting that sort of wrap right takes some effort. The Thundershirt just velcros on without any physical manipulation of the dog, there is nothing to pull over their head or step their feet through.

Brisbane's Thundershirt is actually a size small. Technically he should be in a size medium, but it's supposed to be tight so the small works ok. I use it for chilling him out when I trim his nails.

Pros: Easy to put on and take off. Requires no effort, unlike behavior modification training like the Relaxation Protocol. Works instantly for many dogs. Allows for freedom of movement.

Cons: One in five dogs won't feel less anxious when wearing the Thundershirt. Using a Thundershirt doesn't mean stopping other slower methods of helping dogs with their anxiety.

Bottom Line: I use the Thundershirt when cutting Brisbane's nails, but I also use a muzzle, a blindfold, prescription medication, and lots and lots of conditioning with food. Even for occasional upsets like fireworks, the Thundershirt works best as a tool to help get a dog calmed down enough for other management strategies to be effective. It's a useful tool to have in my toolbox, but not the cure-all that the Thundershirt company advertises.

Have you used a Thundershirt or other pressure wrap on your dog? Did it work?

The Mailman

A lot of dogs react strongly to the mailman, and for good reason. Every day they bark like ferocious hellbeasts and he leaves. Behold the power of barking! Fortunately, most dog owners can successfully pair the presence of the mailman with wonderful things like food and BarkBoxes, so their dogs can learn a better way of coping with the reality of the United States Postal Service.

Photo by Erin Koski

And then there's our mailman. He's a bit...odd. Possibly autistic? At any rate, his shirt is rarely buttoned correctly and he is always, always running as fast as he possibly can with his heavy mailbag. He's always monstrously sweaty with his hair plastered to his head, and ignores people who attempt to talk to him, wave, or even make eye contact. The mailman sets off little "not right" alarm bells in my head, so I can't really blame the dogs for freaking out.

I've been trying to reduce everyone's stress about mail delivery for the nearly four years we've been living here. Unfortunately the daily routine makes it difficult. The mailman may hit our street as early as 11am and as late as 7:30 in the evening without rhyme or reason, so it's tough to plan for his arrival.

Our first indication that the mailman is afoot is when he slams the special mailman-only door on the back of the block of mailboxes for the apartment building across the street. This is the only time this door is used, so we can't have a friendly resident help us pair the sound with tasty treats.

Next the mailman will make his way down the street, slamming mailboxes all the way. Finally he will make it to our house, where he will jog down the driveway to the other house on the property before dropping off our mail. The entire process takes about ten minutes, during most of which the mailman is out of sight and may or may not be audible. This is a lot longer than the average mail delivery, and makes it difficult to train around. Here's what I've tried so far:

Mailman=Boring

Pairing exciting neighborhood events with unstimulating activities has been somewhat successful in reducing Brisbane's reactivity to skateboards, at least in the house. For a while after we moved in, I had him dragging a leash around the house. When he barked at things outside, I would calmly and silently escort him to the bathroom, flip the light on, and leave him in there until he was quiet. This made pedestrians, passing dogs, and most neighborhood activity boring enough that Briz began to ignore them. However, it failed to make the mailman less exciting. In fact, attempting to use it for our mailman problem ruined the effect by making the bathroom super exciting. Now when I stick Brisbane in there, he starts barking hysterically because he knows the mailman might be afoot!

Look at That!

Gleaned from Control Unleashed, this game teaches the dog to look forward to the appearance of their trigger by clicking and treating them for looking at said trigger. Our problem was that the mailman was only visible for a brief portion of the mail delivery period, while he was audible in the neighborhood for a good ten minutes. By the time there was anything to look at, Brisbane was already way over threshold.

Speed Treating

I've had an enormous amount of success with just feeding Brisbane treats in the presence of his triggers. This has helped him get over his issues with joggers, bicycles, and other unsavory sights. Normally I start rapid-fire handing him food as soon as he becomes aware of the trigger. The issue with the mailman is one of duration though, it's difficult to have enough treats to last through ten minutes in the presence of the trigger. It also requires me to drop whatever I am doing and just stand there feeding Brisbane continuously for the entire ten minutes. Neither of us can maintain our focus for that long.

Rain of Kibble

This is my current tactic for dealing with mailman time. I take half a cup of kibble and fling it across the kitchen and living room. Brisbane must then spend the next ten minutes or more racing Ru, the cats, and any other dogs in the house, to find and devour all the pieces. This project is distracting enough to keep Brisbane busy while the mailman makes his rounds up and down the street, and if they finish the kibble I can always toss a bit more. It doesn't require constant vigilance on my part, so it's something I can do even when I'm in the middle of something. It also gets my floors kind of gross, but so far the peace and quiet during mailman time is worth it.

Good Dogs Growl

My car has a dipstick that allows me to check the level of oil in the engine, it also has a light on the dashboard that can warn me that there is something wrong. This is very important, without these warning systems I wouldn't know something was wrong until my engine burst into flames. It's really nice to have a way to gauge the state of the engine so I can do whatever is necessary to prevent things from getting to the point of disaster.

Photo by Erin Koski

Dogs have a warning system sort of like that, but instead of bursting into flames, they bite. Some dogs need very little maintenance and can go a long, long way without needing intervention. Some dogs are the equivalent of a used Alfa Romeo and need constant management. Instead of dashboard lights and dipsticks and funny noises under the hood, a dog's warning system consists of body language and vocalizations.

One of the least subtle warnings a dog can give is a growl, an impossible to ignore message that something is very wrong and needs to change. A growl means "Careful, I'm about to reach my limit and I will bite you if you don't back off."

Unfortunately not everyone sees it that way. For some people, growling is a sign of disrespect. They take it as a threat, rather than a simple statement of fact. Lots of people punish dogs for growling. "How dare you do that to me!" They teach their dog that bad things happen when they growl, and then declare that he knows his place when he will tolerate all sorts of touching, hands in his food bowl, and any other sort of rude behavior on the part of the human.

The thing is, teaching a dog not to growl doesn't teach him respect, it just unplugs the dashboard lights and throws away the oil dipstick. It does absolutely nothing to change the point at which the dog will bite, it merely erases any warning that the limit may be approaching.

People who disconnect or just ignore dashboard warning lights, and refuse to check their oil, occasionally find their engine seizing or bursting into flames during rush hour traffic. A dog that has been taught not to growl or show teeth will sometimes bite seemingly out of nowhere. Taking away the early warning system did nothing to change the point at which very bad things happen.

Dogs have limits. They can only handle so much stress before they will try to defend themselves. We can change those limits by gradually teaching the dog to feel relaxed and happy, or at least less stressed by his triggers. Dogs aren't robots, mindless automatons, or minions. They are intelligent beings capable of communicating their state of mind. We owe it to them to listen to what they tell us.

I believe my foster dog Ulysses was punished for growling at some point in his life. This is what made him an extremely unsafe dog and ultimately resulted in his death. He was always a very nervous dog, but likely felt that it was unsafe to growl and warn me when he was reaching his stress limit. Instead, he silently became overwhelmed and then lashed out very suddenly. It was never his fault, he was a sweet, beautiful, wonderful dog. He was simply taught that communicating was unsafe.

When a dog growls, the correct response is to fix the situation. Back off and get some distance between the dog and his stressor. Find ways to help him develop positive associations with the things that make him growl. Fix the underlying fear or anxiety instead of hiding it.

Good dogs growl.

Last Day of Quarantine!

After today, this blue beast is finally allowed to leave the house again! First stop: the dog beach! Second stop: the grooming station at work. I cannot believe how much this dog sheds.

Photo by Erin Koski

Uly has been handling his ten-day quarantine period well, aside from shredding my fourth edition Van Norstrand's Scientific Encyclopedia/doorstop. This evening I gave him a rawhide chew and was pleased to see that he spent longer than Brizzy devouring it and didn't try to swallow any really big pieces. He has also successfully enjoyed Nylabones, the Urban Stick filled with peanut butter, and a variety of other toys without destroying them, so he's probably not going to be a serious chewer.

I am very pleased that Ulysses has become significantly more food-motivated since escaping the Orange County municipal shelter. This makes him much easier to train. He wants to sit and wait politely while I prepare his dinner, but he's so excited that he just has to dance. And Sit. At the same time.

A couple of days ago Uly picked up the plush Eiffel Tower from our latest BarkBox. Once he had the toy, he began to worry when Brisbane, Ru, or the cats were nearby. He has been gradually relaxing while staying here with us, but the other animals near his toy brought back the still posture, laid back ears, and wide eyes had had all the time when he was fresh out of the shelter. This kind of concern could turn into resource guarding if handled poorly, so we immediately started telling him what a good boy he was when the other pets were nearby. Right away he started relaxing and enjoying nibbling on the stuffy instead of focusing on the other animals.

Uly also doesn't like being led by his collar. At first I thought maybe he was unused to wearing it, but his shelter paperwork says he was wearing a collar when he was picked up as a stray. If I try to coax him up onto the couch or bed by pulling his collar, he drops to the floor and looks scared. I suspect he has been punished by being grabbed and shaken by the collar, so now he is afraid. We will be working on making collar touching a positive experience for him.

Through a Dog's Ear

We survived the Fourth of July with minimal hysteria. Brisbane actually doesn't care about fireworks, and Ru doesn't either. I recently read a study about fireworks fears that found that dogs born in the fall and winter were less likely to develop noise phobias. I found this interesting because Brisbane and Ru were born in the spring, and neither of them have noise issues. It probably helps that we had a freak thunderstorm when Briz was a tiny baby puppy, so he learned that loud noises make treats rain from the sky.

I wasn't sure how Ulysses was going to react to the fireworks this year, so I planned to stay home with the dogs. He was ok with the local poppers, not much is legal here in bone-dry brushfire country. When the big city-sponsored show started, he got a little worried, so I put on Through a Dog's Ear.  It's an album of classical piano music that helps soothe nervous dogs.

How does it work? The concept began with a study back in 2002 that compared the behavior of shelter dogs when they were serenaded with classical music, heavy metal, pop, human conversation, and silence. The dogs spent more time snoozing and less time mindlessly barking when listening to classical music. The next step was to examine precisely what aspects of classical music are most soothing. They altered the tempo and complexity of various pieces composed specifically for the study, and also used regular old classical music as a control.

What they found was that most dogs found slow and simple piano solos to be the most relaxing and sleep-inducing. The next study pitted the carefully analyzed slow and simple piano solos against standard classical music. While both recordings helped dogs relax in a variety of anxiety-inducing situations, far more behavior issues improved with the music that was designed specifically for dogs.

When I first discovered Through a Dog's Ear, there was a single album of incredibly boring piano music. Now there are actually a bunch of albums, along with portable players preloaded with music. I was delighted to find these albums on Google Music, since I have an all-access subscription ($7/month) I can stream them all without having to pay for them individually. I can keep them on my phone to play in the car, and I can use Chromecast to stream them to my television and fill my house with incredibly boring piano music.

How well does it work? The music quickly set Uly at ease while the big fireworks show was booming across town. The neighborhood kids kept setting stuff off for a few hours afterwards, and all three dogs slept peacefully through it.

Phrases We Can Retire: "My Dog is Protective"

Another phrase that grates on my nerves is "protective", as in "my dog is so protective" or "he's just being protective" when a dog shows signs of aggression.

This is not a sign of aggression, it's just silly.

When my dog spazzes out and throws a barking fit because he saw another human on the street, he is not trying to protect me. My dog is being reactive, the sight of the other person causes him stress and anxiety, and he puts on a big loud display to tell the guy not to come any closer.

When my dog is ok with other dogs at the dog park, but attacks them when on leash, he isn't trying to protect me from the other dog. He is feeling vulnerable because the leash prevents him from retreating in a confrontation.

I think the reason that hearing bad behavior dismissed as "protective" bothers me so much is because it puts a positive spin on something we should be discouraging. There is absolutely nothing good about a dog that turns into a sputtering ball of rage every time another living thing gets within range. There is no reason to put a positive spin on a lapdog chomping anyone who sits down beside its favorite lap.

A lot of people I've talked to claim that their dog's protective behavior is a bad thing, but I feel that the word itself lends a subconscious positive cast to the word. Sure, I do feel at ease walking Brisbane through the bad part of town at 2am because I know he will eat anyone who gets within leash range, but I never call him or his behavior "protective". Briz is reactive, when he's feeling anxious he is likely to go off at anyone no matter how nonthreatening. On a dark street at 2am when I'm feeling antsy and the tension is going right down the leash, Brisbane would probably chomp a baby.

Happily, Brisbane does not guard non-edible toys.

This is why I greatly prefer the term "resource guarding" and "reactive" to describe the vast majority of "protective" behaviors. When my chihuahua shows his teeth because another dog or cat hopped up on the couch while he was sitting on my lap, he is guarding me as a resource. I can help improve this behavior by giving him treats when the other pets get close by, so he develops a positive association.

Brisbane used to throw a fit every time he saw a jogger, I improved this behavior by giving him treats every time he saw someone jogging. Eventually he learned that joggers meant tasty treats, and now he doesn't care about them anymore. Had I viewed this behavior as Brisbane protecting me from joggers, I may have tried to discourage it through aversive training.

When we call aggression and anxious behavior "protective", it gives us a reason to avoid dealing with it. Without consciously realizing it, we may write it off as something potentially positive. We may also attempt to remedy it the same way we might remedy other overly enthusiastic behaviors like jumping up to greet people. A knee to the chest might discourage a bouncy dog from pawing my clean shirt, but a leash correction or a harsh word when he's growling at a jogger across the street could be enough to convince him that everyone in sweats must die.

Welcome Back Ulysses!

Ulysses is back with us right now, his adoptive family returned him. This was a wise move, and we are very glad to have him back.

No idea what happened to that book.

Uly's adoptive family had a baby just under a year old. While Uly didn't show any signs of uncertainty about the baby while we were there, we also didn't get to see how he felt about the baby crawling on the floor. I did let the adopters know that he had growled at my dogs and cats one day while he was resting, and that he might feel uncomfortable being approached in that situation. I recommended a crate in the living room or wherever the family spent the most time, so he could have a protected resting spot where he felt safe.

Within a few days in his new home, Ulysses bit the baby. There was no damage aside from a small bruise, but it was concerning. We are told that the baby was crawling near him while he was resting, and that he probably gave signals that he was uncomfortable beforehand. The family said they still planned to keep him, and even took him to be signed up for their pet health care plan.

A few days ago he bit the man of the house. We're told that the baby was crawling near him, and that the man went to pick up the baby and pushed Uly out of the way, and then Uly turned around and bit his arm, leaving a puncture. While I wouldn't normally continue working with a dog that had a bite history, I feel there is more to this story.

First, Uly has an incredibly soft temperament. He is an absolute moosh. I have a very hard time believing that there wasn't some sort of severe and extremely scary correction involved in the original baby incident. The adopters seemed to be fairly competent in their dog training abilities, but I'm not certain they knew how to deal with behavioral issues. The average human would probably respond to the baby incident by screaming and punishing the dog, and then attempt to prevent future incidents by warning the dog not to do anything bad when the baby was nearby. This would actually just teach the dog that the baby is bad news, and that he is not safe around it.

We shared Dogs and Babies with the family, and recommended total separation via baby gates along with helping Ulysses understand that the baby means good things for dogs. Obviously neither of these things happened. The adopter tells us he went to push Uly out of the way, but Uly can't tell us how he was feeling at the time. Not everyone speaks Dog, and he may have been giving every possible signal that he was afraid. I honestly think he was afraid he was going to be hurt or killed when he bit.

Now that Ulysses is safely back in foster care, we're taking the time to learn more about him. The friend that picked him up and brought him back tells me that he wouldn't approach her husband even for bacon. He has been extremely friendly and affectionate with me, much more relaxed and playful than he was when he left. However, he is just as reserved as ever with my husband and male friends. Uly will greet them and hope for petting, but he isn't as happy and silly as he is with women. We haven't gotten any sort of fear or aggression response out of him. When he's off his ten day quarantine, we will be meeting lots of men and watching him carefully to see how he feels.

Was Ulysses labeled aggressive in the shelter because he was cornered by a man? We're not sure, but it seems likely. He's still the soft, gentle, sweet boy we thought he was. Now we need to find an adopter who is willing to respond to undesirable behavior with a quiet "uh-uh" or "what's wrong?" rather than "NO! BAD DOG!"

Book Review: Control Unleashed

By Leslie McDevitt, Control Unleashed is a fantastic read for anyone who has a dog that sometimes looks at things, or barks at things, or otherwise does things they wish it didn't do in public.  It's primarily for agility dogs, but it pretty much works for every handler and all but the most mellow dogs. Actually, there's some stuff in there for the mellow guys too.

Photo by Erin Koski

I think my favorite part about this book is that all of the exercises are explained as games. Whenever you are training your dog, the two of you are engaging in a fun game. It's voluntary and enjoyable for the dog. The result is supposed to be a calm, confident dog that can focus on his handler in any circumstances, because he has learned that certain situations are cues for happy fun time. 

This is a massive difference between this and a different book, Susan Garrett's Ruff Love, which also offers to help turn your dog into a calm, confident, focused working partner. The difference is that Ruff Love instructs readers to remove all opportunities for the dog to "self reward", the program begins with several weeks of keeping the dog in a covered crate at all times unless it is actively being trained. Don't come when called? Go back in the box. The author has since been quoted as saying it isn't meant to be an isolation program, and she has no idea why people lock their dogs in boxes continuously for several weeks when she instructs them to lock their dogs in boxes continuously for several weeks. I'm told that she holds multi-day training workshops where people start their dogs on the Ruff Love program, and that by the second day everyone was crying because it was so difficult to put their beloved dogs through this.

Needless to say, Ruff Love isn't for everyone, or really anyone except people who want to win at all costs. Still, it is often recommended to aspiring agility handlers who wish their dogs were more focused and are willing to brainwash their dogs via extreme isolation. Control Unleashed is exactly the opposite. Control Unleashed is for people who love their dogs and want to engage in dog sports as a way to bond and have fun with their beloved companions. Leslie McDevitt obviously feels this way, because one of the first stories in her book is about a dog that didn't really enjoy agility, so she stopped making him do it. 

Right up there with Bones Would Rain from the Sky, Control Unleashed is by someone who sees her relationship with her dogs the same way I do. They aren't clay to moulded, our dogs are dance partners and we need to teach them the steps while listening to their music. Control Unleashed is filled with games to play with dogs to teach them how to work with us, but it's also a story about Leslie's dog Zip and his journey from being an overstimulated pile of nerves to a calm and confident dog.

The thing I use the most from this book is called the Look at That! game. Brisbane sees things and gets very excited about them, particularly skateboarders and squirrels. Often he is concerned about the thing he sees, so training him to stop looking at it is difficult. I can click and treat him for looking at me, but he will still feel highly concerned about the thing, maybe even more so now that he is looking at me and not watching for impending doom. Control Unleashed taught me to click and treat him for looking at the skateboarders or squirrels. Right away, his focus shifts to me and the food, and the skateboarders become the cue to play this fun game. This has been extremely successful when he can see the skateboarders or mailman, we're still working on not losing our minds over hearing skateboards.

Control Unleashed is filled with these silly games that work amazingly well. Teach the dog to remain focused on playing with the handler by refusing to play with the dog. Teach the dog to stop freaking out about squirrels by letting him chase the squirrels. I lend this book out a lot, but not as often as some of my others because it's slightly expensive and somewhat troublesome to replace. I'm told there is a sequel about puppies that is equally universally applicable, but I haven't read it yet.

At face value, this book appears to be a manual for teaching a remedial agility handling class using very specific equipment in a very specific setting. In sunny California I have never seen or heard of an indoor agility course, I don't know anybody who has ring gates, and I still found this to be the most helpful book I've read so far for my reactive dog-beast. I recommend it for reactive dogs, lazy dogs, easily distracted dogs, stupid dogs, and anyone who wishes their dog was a bit less or a bit more fill-in-the-blank-here. It's a manual for changing the way your dog does stuff in a way that is fun for the dog, and will never make you cry.

Book Review: Dogs Are From Neptune

Jean Donaldson's Dogs Are From Neptune is the sequel to The Culture Clash. The first book was aimed at destroying the myths our society holds about dogs as moral beings, and explained how dogs do what they do because they recognize good things happening for dogs. Culture Clash offers obedience training advice broken down into simple steps. Dogs Are From Neptune explains how to deal with behavior problems.

Photo by Erin Koski

When I first brought Brisbane home, I thought I knew a whole lot about dogs and how to train them. I knew all about socialization and basic obedience. What I didn't know was what to do when things didn't go as expected. Dogs Are From Neptune is a wonderful book because it is all about various common behavior problems.

This book is actually a compilation of answers to questions submitted to Jean Donaldson's website. Each answer was so thoughtful and detailed that she decided to put them in print. The solution for each problem is not at all simple and straightforward, and Donaldson gives a number of options for each case. She stresses over and over that the root of nearly all behavior problems is fear and stress, or simply a lack of training. A dog reacts aggressively toward certain people because it is afraid. It jumps up on people because it has not been taught to greet politely. The underlying reasons are simple, but addressing the issue is often very complex.

The first half of the book is about aggression, which is easily the most severe behavior problem in my opinion. The very first question is about a dog who is aggressive toward men. I really like how Jean Donaldson explains classical conditioning, that the dog can learn to feel less fearful around men by having good things happen when he sees men, regardless of his behavior. I often hear people chastising others to not reward bad behavior when classical conditioning would help tremendously. At work I frequently pet and praise dogs that are barking, humping, or engaging in other stress behaviors. Typically the dogs gradually relax and the frequency of the undesirable behavior decreases.

Dogs Are From Neptune is a great read for anyone that works with dogs. Owners of well-behaved dogs can prepare themselves for potential issues and add some behavior management tools to their arsenal for future problems.

Book Review: The Culture Clash

The Culture Clash by Jean Donaldson is one of my favorite books about dog behavior because it works very hard to dispel myths and misconceptions about dogs that many people don't even realize exist. She begins by describing the myth of the Disney Dog. This is a dog that thinks just like a human, and should "know better" than to do things like chew shoes or knock down toddlers. The Disney Dog knows how to behave itself, and problems with "dominance" or "poor leadership" cause him to forget what he knows.

Photo by Erin Koski

Jean Donaldson, along with every dog that ever existed, knows that the Disney Dog is pure fiction. Like every other creature on the planet, dogs do things that they find rewarding. As Jean Donaldson puts it, dogs recognize "good things happening for dogs". They come pre-programmed with certain instinctive behaviors, along with their own disposition and personality. Everything from housetraining to walking on a leash must be taught, and if the dog does not behave as expected it simply has not been taught well enough.

In The Culture Clash, Jean Donaldson begins by examining why we hold these myths about dogs. As humans we value intelligence, and we especially love to hear about brilliant dogs. This leads us to give our dogs impossible riddles and set them up for failure. We assume that our dogs learn right from wrong when we scold them for what we consider bad behavior, and then when they continue this behavior we assume that they are making a conscious choice to behave badly. Many people also misinterpret appeasement signs (I like to call them "please don't kill me" signs) as guilt.

The internet is filled with pictures and videos of "guilty dogs" that "clearly know they did something bad". To someone with experience in dog behavior, these are always heartbreaking because they showcase so many dogs that have learned to expect punishment. I can credit The Culture Clash for Brisbane's apparent lack of guilt or shame, he does not "act guilty" because he does not feel the need to appease me.

This isn't really a dog training book, so much as it is an owner's manual explaining how dogs work. Preventative training is a big part of the book; so many people try to raise their dogs by teaching them what not to do when they haven't taught them what to do in the first place. Many owners punish their dogs for pulling on the leash, but few begin by teaching their dog how to walk nicely in the first place.

I particularly like Jean Donaldson's explanation of the bite threshold. This is a concept that is explaining via graphs that demonstrate how various stressors add up to make a dog stressed enough to bite. I have used this many times to explain Brisbane's behavior to friends and family. His stressors include noise, crowds, clutter, various people he likes but also gets very excited about, and people walking through doorways. This explains why he is normally ok meeting a new friend on a calm day in an empty house, but can't handle parties.

In the last chapter, the author explains the training theory behind various behaviors like stays and heeling. She begins with a "kindergarten" section for each, how to get started with a dog unfamiliar with the concept, and finishes with a "college" section for gradually teaching the dog how to do it better, faster, longer, harder. Brisbane has a college-level stay in the absence of serious distractions like the mailman or squirrels. (He'd be better at squirrels if I could find them reliably so we could practice.) Foster dog Ulysses has a kindergarten stay, he's just beginning to get the hang of not squirming around when he doesn't get rewarded immediately and continuously for sitting. Uly is a smart boy, he knows I want him to do something and is determined to figure out that thing. He is not used to getting paid for just sitting there and not doing anything. Despite being my dog for the last four years, Ru still has an elementary school stay because I am a lazy dog trainer and he isn't nearly as quick or rewarding to train as my Einstein cattledogs.

I think every dog should come with a copy of The Culture Clash so I wouldn't have to see so many "guilty dog" videos on Facebook.

Book Review: Don't Shoot the Dog

Far more than just a dog training book, Karen Pryor's Don't Shoot the Dog is an amazingly thorough introduction to the concept of behaviorism. It explains the science behind why all creatures do what they do, and how their behavior can be altered.

Photo by Erin Koski

Karen Pryor is a former dolphin trainer, and this is the field in which she originally developed the concept of clicker training that can be applied to any animal. Traditionally, dogs were trained through force and intimidation. Cesar Milan uses traditional force training and flooding exercises,  along with a nebulous concept known as "leadership" that is somehow supposed to solve behavior problems. However, the Dog Whisperer's methods can only be applied to animals that can be controlled or forced. Dolphins cannot be forced to do things they do not want to do, so clicker training was developed as a way to teach them what their handlers wanted.

Don't Shoot the Dog does discuss dogs and how to train them, but it also describes the behavioral concepts behind how and why these training methods work. Knowing the science behind the training allows prospective trainers to alter their methods as needed to fit a particular situation. When Brisbane was a puppy with spinal disc issues, he used to growl at people who sat next to him on the couch, anticipating them touching or moving him in a way that hurt. Conventional training, and the Dog Whisperer would have had me revoke his furniture privileges, or attempt to "be a better leader" and see if this somehow taught him that the couch did not belong to him. Don't Shoot the Dog taught me to train an alternate behavior, I taught Brisbane to get on and off the couch on command. When he growled, he was told to perform his getting-off-the-couch trick, and praised for complying. Very quickly, Briz learned to leave on his own when he didn't want to sit with someone. What could have been labelled a "dominance" issue or sign of poor leadership was simply a matter of teaching Brisbane a better way to handle a situation that made him uncomfortable.

One of the most delightful parts of Don't Shoot the Dog is the way it applies the behavior concepts to humans. The science of behavior is universal across species, we all do things we find rewarding and avoid things we find unrewarding. Don't Shoot the dog explains how to use various training methods to training yourself to stop biting your nails, to get your roommate to pick up their dirty laundry, to get the kids to be quiet in the car. It gave me a whole new view of human behavior, and changed the way I interact with other people.

I highly recommend Don't Shoot the Dog to anyone and everyone. I think the world would be a better place if everyone read this book. I think it should be a required text in high school, maybe in science class, where everyone could try training each other.

Rain!

Athough he absolutely loves the hose, sprinklers, puddles, creeks, lakes, swimming pools, and the ocean, Brisbane hates rain. I think it's because he was born in late April, and we live in southern California. Our rainy season is in the winter, and we've been in various states of drought for Brisbane's entire life. What little rain we get mostly happens at night. When he was a baby puppy, I was able to use a freak thunderstorm to help teach Briz that loud booming noises are no big deal. I never thought to introduce him to rain, though. Really, who does that?

Water is great as long as it's not falling from the sky!

I love everything about the rain, probably more so because we see it so rarely. I love walking in it, or just standing there getting wet. I love the smell of rain. Brisbane did not experience rain until he was at least six months old, and to him it is just plain wrong. I would be one of those people out in a downpour, my dog and I decked out in matching raincoats and galoshes, but I can't talk Briz into leaving the house. He even refuses to go out and pee, preferring to hold it for as long as 36 hours. Sometimes he gets creative and will pee in the bathtub, or an uncovered catbox. I appreciate his creativity, at least.

While he's had nearly nine years to get used to the winter rains, Briz is still clearly disconcerted. As I type this, he is standing on the front porch, watching the rain with great concern. He won't leave the shelter of the porch, but he still wants to go out and observe every so often. He prefers it when I accompany him out there, so he can look at me and whine occasionally. The rain is not ok, and apparently I'm supposed to do something about it.

Big Dog Syndrome

There is a lot of information out there about Little Dog Syndrome. This is the tendency for small dogs to act in big ways in the presence of dog-sized dogs. Similar to Napoleon Syndrome, or Little Man Syndrome, the concept seems to be that tiny dogs realize they have something to compensate for.

Hell hath no fury like a 6-lb dog.

I am calling bullshit on Little Dog Syndrome, or at the very least I'm going to come right out and say that I think it's a direct result of Big Dog Syndrome.

Big Dog Syndrome, a term I just invented ten minutes ago, describes the attitude I've noticed that many medium and large dogs have toward small and toy-sized dogs. Even dogs that are otherwise well-socialized and polite tend to ignore the body language of tiny dogs. Both Brisbane and Ru don't often want to visit with strange dogs when we're at the off-leash dog beach, but the vast majority pick up on Brisbane's subtle warning signs loud and clear. Happy, wiggly dogs head in Brisbane's direction for a greeting, and then abruptly veer off and seem to lose interest. His stiff, straight, forward posture says "Leave me alone."

These same dogs ignore that same posture from Ru. They also ignore the raised hackles, the growl, and the curled lip. Finally, leaps up in that friendly labrador's face with a tiny roar, sending it leaping back, startled. The lab's owner remarks "Wow, little guy thinks he's Cujo!" Ru isn't Cujo, he's not vicious, and he doesn't hate big dogs. What he does hate is being forced into an intimate greeting when he's been shouting that he wants to be left alone the whole time.

I can't blame him, I imagine it's a bit like being a small child and trying to pass an adult on the street when I'm feeling uncomfortable or vulnerable. They make eye contact and wave from across the street, I look away and keep walking. They walk across the street and say "Hi!", I say "Um, hi..." or maybe "Can I help you?" and try to keep walking. The stranger gets closer, hand held extended, babbling "Hi how are you? Good to meet you!", I try to go around them. The stranger blocks my path, enters my personal space, towers over me. I scream "LEAVE ME ALONE!" and kick them in the shins. This stranger has Big Dog Syndrome.

Properly socializing a tiny dog can be nearly impossible, because most of their reactions with large dogs are going to be of the looming-stranger-oblivious-to-my-discomfort variety. Small Dog Syndrome is what happens when tiny dogs learn that big dogs won't listen to anything less than a full assault. Ru does not approach large dogs for the purpose of bullying them, he would be much happier if they gave him a wide berth like they do Brisbane. What Ru does is forcefully tell them to get out of his face when they exhibit Big Dog Syndrome.