Last week we talked about limits: figuring out what our dogs’ limits are and how to honor them.

The other side to that coin, though, is knowing which limits to push and how. Otherwise, you risk becoming stagnant. Pushing limits, too, helps expand your dog’s world bit by tiny, incremental bit.

When I talk about pushing Cooper’s limits and setting training goals for him, I try to think of what my long-term goal is first, then work backwards. What is my desired outcome?

Right now, I’m focused on a big one.

Impulse control.

Of course, that’s a vague concept, but there’s one specific behavior we need to work on: his mat.

Long ago, we worked with an amazing trainer in New Orleans. One of the things she pointed out is his reliance on routine and predictability. We took a walk around our neighborhood, and she noticed that he knew every single house in the entire neighborhood that had a dog in the yard because he would tense up before we got there. An unexpected dog showed up in a yard he didn’t know?

Flip Out City: Population 1.

Same thing with, for instance, a bench at the bus stop. It was plastered with a real estate agent’s face and phone number. He spotted that face from the car and lost it. Or when the church on the corner set out their nativity scene with nearly-life-sized statues. Gonzo.

The trainer called it “strange pictures.” He didn’t like things out of his ordinary. He still doesn’t. If something looks weird or is unpredictable or unexpected, it’s not to be trusted. So, he barks.

He’s always been that way with movement, too. If someone trips (me), he barks. If someone dances in the kitchen while cooking dinner (me), he barks. If someone shrieks and runs around with arms waving (small children), he barks.

Out-of-the-ordinary movement startles him. He barks.

Oddly enough, he has not barked at Violet. I think there are two reasons why: First, he thinks she hung the moon. He just adores her, and I know he realizes that he needs to be careful around her because I can see him modifying his behavior when she’s around. He’s been like that since day one.

Second, her developing movement has happened gradually. She went from being a little lump to wiggling to rolling to scootching to crawling incrementally over the course of eight months.

Now, though, she’s almost 10 months. She’s crawling at top speed. She’s pulling up on everything, falling over, sitting up, falling over, dancing, clonking her head, giving me a heart attack about 975 times a day. She also chatters little baby jargon and shrieks her head off all day long. In fact, her go-to move when she spots one of the animals is to start shrieking with glee and crawling at top speed toward them. Of course, they see/hear her coming and skedaddle before she can get there… to her disappointment…

Anyway, we’ve been lucky that this developing movement has been so gradual, but I want to prevent Coop from starting up his usual barking response if, when she starts actually standing and toddling, that movement makes him uncomfortable. I don’t know that it will, but I want to focus on preventative training.

Specifically, circling back to almost 600 words ago, impulse control.

So, my training goal for the month ahead is to reinforce (erm, restart) his mat work. You guys, we tried to get through the whole Relaxation Protocol twice. I’ll take the blame for our failure to complete the entire thing. The system is sound but I don’t know… We worked on a modified version with our trainer in New Orleans, so I think I might start there then decide if we could benefit from the entire protocol. (Anyone who’s seen it through: worth it???) Since then, we’ve sort of lowered our criteria and accepted him going to either his mat or his bed when we mean to send him to his mat. Gotta work on that…

Bottom line: My goal for Cooper for February is to work on proofing his “on your mat” cue during calm moments, gradually increasing his criteria to chill on his mat (probably with a stuffed food puzzle) in the living room while we’re playing with Violet.

It’s actually the perfect time to be working on this, too, since we’re already mostly stuck in the house with this seemingly-unending winter! Might as well train!

I think we have relatively little time before she’s up and about, toddling and falling all over the place. I’ve been thinking through this plan loosely, and I think February is the month to reinforce the basics, then in March we’ll tackle sending him to his mat to relax with increased distraction.

That’s my goal! How about you? What are you guys working on with your pups this month? 

“It’s so beautiful outside! Let’s take Cooper to the park to enjoy this gorgeous day!”

Said no one ever…

“It’s gray and lightly drizzling. I’m taking Cooper to the park for a jog.”

I said on Sunday.

Cooper doesn’t go to the park on a beautiful, sunny day. Why? People go to the park on beautiful, sunny days. Dogs go to the park on beautiful, sunny days. Youths on wheels go to the park on beautiful, sunny days. So, Cooper does not.

Here’s the thing: Cooper is a good dog.

Cooper is not a perfect dog.

He’s well-trained and smart as a whip. But he has limits.

Someone recently asked me, in response to me saying that Cooper will never be a dog who chills on a restaurant patio with us for Sunday brunch, “Is that something you’re going to work on?”

For a beat, I paused. Is it? 

We’re a goal-oriented society, right? We set goals, work to achieve them, and then push the goalpost further out. It’s certainly how I work, and it certainly formed the basis of a lot of the training I’ve historically done with the dogs. What do I want them to do (or not do)? How do we get there? And once we get there, what’s next?

It makes sense to say, OK, we’ve identified this problem–Cooper can’t relax in a crowded place–so, now how do we work toward a solution? What is my project plan? What are the next steps? How do we progress?

But, the other important piece of the dog-training puzzle: limits.

Knowing them, and respecting them.

It’s just like in people. Everyone, every dog included, has limits. Somehow with dogs, sometimes people who love their dogs very much, still fall into the trap of thinking, “Oh, we just need to work more/harder. Let’s try a new protocol,” etc. etc.

Sure, there’s some stuff you have to push your dog on, whether it’s for safety’s sake or basic manners.

But when it comes to limits… I use myself as an example. I am, by nature, a shy introvert. I needed to learn how to speak in public, so I took steps to train myself. I read books. I watched TED talks. I joined Toastmasters. That sort of thing. Yes, I improved. No, I’m not confident or comfortable. Yet, if someone were to ask me to do something like act a part in a play, you better believe I’d be hiding under the closest rock I could find because no way, never, not gonna happen, are you flipping kidding me with that?! I know my limits.

I just have the luxury of making all my own decisions so can turn down things that I know are far beyond my reasonable capabilities.

Dogs don’t have that luxury. We make all their own decisions.

So, identifying their limits–carefully, too, and with kid gloves because some limits need to be pushed–and then respecting them are so crucial to forming a strong bond and a lasting friendship with your dog.

So, will I train Cooper to sit with me at a restaurant or walk through a packed park on a beautiful day?

Nope.

Will he miss out on some adventures together?

Yep.

We could work on some stuff. We could work on having him lay on a mat in a busy place. We could work on restaurant sounds. But we can’t really work to make him feel happy in those scenarios. He’d just be a tense ball of anxious energy trying to work through commands, never relaxing, never feeling comfortable. Is that worth it?

Truthfully, I feel like if I could ask him and he could answer me, it would probably go something like this:

“Cooper, do you want to go sit on the patio at the cafe down the road while we eat breakfast?”

“Is it crowded, noisy, full of people and loud, unexpected sounds? Hell nope. Thanks, but I’ll stay home with the cats.”

Does your dog have limits? How do you differentiate between the ones that are firm and need to be honored versus the ones you need to push? How do you decide when you’ve hit your goal versus pushing the goalpost further out? 

From the archives, a few oldies about Cooper’s behavior, um, quirks:

• Cooper’s second reactive dog class
• Agility training round fail
• The gauntlet