blog hop Archives - Oh My Dog!

What to do when your dog won’t listen

10•05•17

We have a… joke? saying?… for this mode Cooper gets in. He totally blacks out. He won’t listen. He won’t calm down. He won’t stop. He won’t come or sit or stay.

He. just. won’t.

We say (in his voice, of course), “Cooper isn’t here right now. Please leave a message, and he’ll get back to you when his brain returns.”

We joke, we have to joke, because it is so incredibly frustrating.

Like, when another dog has the audacity to stop to go to the bathroom in our yard. Or when our friend’s kid comes over who he loves more than anyone and they start playing chase and all of a sudden nothing in the world exists except this kiddo. Or when the neighbors tie up their giant hound dog in the front yard and he barks and barks and barks and barks and barks…

Wait. I agree with that last one, actually.

Anyway, when Coop is blacked-out-not-listening, there’s literally nothing to do except clip his leash and remove him from the situation.

Truly, I think that’s a good rule for any dog who’s just gonzo. Clip on the leash and walk away.

But what about those other times? The times when you’re working on something or out and about and your dog looks at you and then… decides to ignore you? You know he knows the cue. You know he’s physically capable of hearing you. And yet.

So, what do you do when your dog won’t listen?

Here’s what I do in a few short steps:

Assess whether he really, honestly, wholly knows how to do what you’re asking him to do. This is super-duper important. Sometimes we make assumptions about skills or knowledge. “Why won’t he jump up on this bench? We practice it all the time at the bus stop, and he KNOWS it!” Are you in a new park? A different street? Is one bench concrete and another wood? Since dogs don’t generalize well and people do, we sometimes assume they’re more knowledgeable than they are. So, step 1: Does your dog really know what you’re asking him?
If the answer to 1 is YES, then the next step is to, first, take a big, deep, calming breath because it’s really annoying when your pup won’t listen, I know! Then, redirect. Your dog is refusing to sit? Ask for a down, and reward when he does it. Ask for a shake, and reward. Refocus your pup into work + reward mode and away from the refusal. Then, after a few distracting behaviors, ask again for what you initially wanted.
If he STILL won’t sit/up/whatever, time to acknowledge that everyone has their limits, and your dog might’ve reached his. End the session. Toss a ball. Do something fun. Or clip on his leash and walk away. Just like among elementary school students, the reasons for ceasing to listen can vary but are usually specific: don’t understand, bored, frustrated, distracted, tired, hungry… etc. As the human end of the leash, it’s up to us to acknowledge that and to stop pushing. Move on. Tomorrow’s another day.

All that said, there’s one big caveat to this: if your dog’s safety is in danger.

If your dog is barreling toward a busy street and refusing to come when called, or if he’s heading toward a pup you can tell is itching for a fight, or picking up a chicken bone or used condom (true stories, Emmett did all those and more at our park in DC!), you might have to shout. Flail your arms. Fall to the ground. Whatever it takes to distract and disengage your pup from the danger. The advice above is more for general around-the-house or training-session assholery.

By the way, I have a TON to share about Ripley and how all that’s going, and this post ties into that directly because for a while Cooper was so fixated on Rip that he would. not. listen. Not to a single word. So, I took my own advice, starting with clipping his leash to his collar. More on that another day…

I’d LOVE to hear what you do when your dog stops listening? I mean, other than quietly seethe about what a jerk he’s being… or is that just me? What are your tips and tricks to regaining focus?

Where do you find the time to train your dog?

03•11•17

Right now:

It’s 7:52 on a Saturday night.

I’m in my cozies snuggled under the covers with Cooper.

Laptop balanced on my knees. Beer on the side table.

And I am wiped.

But, this is the first chance I’ve had all week to write about time management for dog training–the theme of this past week’s blog hop, which closes tomorrow, so I’m scooting in at the very last second. Ironic, I know.

Anyway, we’ve been busy. Who isn’t, though, right? There’s always more to do and no more time in which to do it.

OK, now it’s 8:05 on Saturday night because I totally got sidetracked watching that video circulating on FB with the little girl getting the kitten?! OMG… So, so, so sweet!

But that right there is exactly my issue. Like most of you, by the time evening rolls around, it’s already been a long day of work, errands, cooking dinner, cleaning up the house, feeding and exercising the herd… where’s the time to train?? It could totally be tonight, but I’m super tired, so instead of taking Cooper outside or upstairs to work, we snuggle under the covers.

I know I’m not alone in this. Between the have-to-dos and the want-to-dos, there’s just never enough time.

So, I have two tips to share with you today if you’re in that same boat.

Here’s the trick in our house that works the very best at getting dog training into an already-way-too-full schedule:

Make training part of your everyday routine.

Seriously, it’s that simple. We train with Cooper all. the. time. (BTW, you’ll note I refer to Cooper in this post and not Emmett. Well, there’s no more Emmett training. It’s now just letting Emmett have/do/eat/sleep/whatever he wants, when he wants it. The end. Newt, on the other hand, stay tuned for a Caturday post sometime this month on that…)

First up, I will say, Cooper has his basics down. I’m not talking about teaching general “obedience” here, which I do think takes a concerted effort in focused blocks of time. What I’m talking about is the ongoing stuff, the stuff to challenge him beyond a basic sit/down/stay.

For example, Cooper has to shut the kitchen cabinet every single time we feed the dogs. (Check it out on Instagram…)

That’s great, but it becomes routine super fast. So, when I’m emptying the dishwasher or putting groceries away, Cooper tends to hang by my side, so I have him shut the cabinets and even push the drawers shut. He’s a PRO at it, and he gets excited to do it. He wags his tail to close cabinets! We keep treats in jars on the counter, so as he does his work, I say, “YES!” then give him a treat.

Same thing with his mat. He’s solid with “on your mat,” so I use it for all sorts of things that push him beyond just placing on his mat. If FedEx drops a package at the door, I’ll send him to his mat and ask for a stay. Walking to the door, opening it, grabbing the package… all while he’s holding the stay on his mat… is hugely challenging. I need to retrieve the package anyway, so adding in that bit of training takes hardly any extra time.

When we throw his ball while we watch TV or something, we’ll do different challenges. I’ll ask him to sit and wait, throw the ball, then release him to chase it down after a few seconds. Sometimes I’ll even ask for a “watch me” while he’s holding his wait.

Right now, I’m working on handing him something, like the mail, and having him, “Take it to John!” (We’re not great at this yet, so there are many a teeth mark in our bills right now!)

All of this is training–largely, for Cooper, training on impulse control–keeps his brain active, but it doesn’t take any extra time out of the day because it’s all part of the day.

OK, I mentioned two tips at the beginning, and here’s the second:

Make training part of your everyday routine.

Huh? That’s the same, right? Well, sure, but I want to emphasize that it’s not just running through the typical stuff that your dog has down pat. It’s the other stuff, too, the new and exciting things or the just-for-fun training.

Here’s an example: You put a pot of water on your stove to boil spaghetti for dinner. While you’re waiting for the bubbles, grab your clicker and a couple treats, and start working on something new. That’s dead time anyways, time most of us spend scrolling mindlessly through Facebook (though, seriously, that kitten video?! OMG…)

Or you have to call your internet provider about an outage. Well, that’s several minutes of your life on hold that you’ll never get back, but make the absolute best of it by teaching your dog a quick-and-easy trick, like luring him to twirl in a circle or something like that.

These little blocks of “found time” can be super fun and rewarding for you and your dog!

I think a lot of folks fall into the trap of feeling like training needs to be a formalized block of focused time. More like Training than, you know, training. You can accomplish a ton in tiny increments, and it keeps it fun and frustration-free.

All that said, there is tremendous value in signing up for a class, or joining a group sport like agility, or having a science-based trainer out to your house to work on specific problem areas. But don’t let the lack of time to do those things now keep you from training at all!

All you need is a few minutes, a clicker (or “yes!”), and some yummy treats, and you’ll find that you have plenty of time for dog training when it becomes part of your everyday routine!

As for the rest of my time, like the writing blog posts time, well… that’s still a work in progress.

Your turn: How do YOU find time to work with your dog? I’d love to know what tricks and tips you have up your sleeve!

My Dog-Training Mentor and Inspiration

01•12•17

When I saw the theme for this month’s positive reinforcement pet training hop–my training mentor or inspiration–my first thought went to trainers whose work I devour: Patricia McConnell, of course. Victoria Stilwell. Debbie Jacobs. Et cetera.

But I wouldn’t know about any of those amazing women without their critical predecessor.

When I started to really think it through, it hit me that my one-and-only dog-training mentor and inspiration, the one who pushed me into the world of positive reinforcement and canine cognition and group training classes and desensitization and counter-conditioning… all of it… could only be Lucas.

It had to be him.

See, when we adopted Emmett in 2006, we thought we knew what we were doing. My bestie taught dog training classes, and we enrolled in her group class the day after we brought Emmett home from the shelter. He did great in class. He did great at home. He did great at the park and at parties and out shopping.

This is so easy, we thought. Let’s adopt another.

Enter Lucas.

All of a sudden–before we even left the parking lot of the animal shelter, actually, when we discovered that he was so afraid of cars that he would. not. get. in. to go home… and what the heck do you do in a busy parking lot with dogs everywhere and you have the dog who you’ve known for 30 minutes who has turned himself into a Tasmanian devil to keep from getting into the backseat of the car? what. do. you. do.–we understood that we knew nothing about dog behavior.

Sure, we could teach tricks and manners and such.

But nothing that resembled teaching behavior.

The agony of those first few months… he didn’t want to be patted. He didn’t wag his tail. He didn’t play with Emmett. He didn’t snuggle. What he did want? He did want to throttle every single dog he saw, and we saw a lot because we lived in a dog-friendly condo building next to a dog-filled park in DC. He did want to chew our chairs to toothpicks. He did want to have total melt-down panic-attacks daily.

Once we tried to list all the things he was scared of, but it was an impossible feat. Let’s just say he was scared of the TV being on and of plastic bags, along with everything else you can think of.

Oh, and we had this crazy accident in which giant Lucas got so scared on a walk he took off like a shot, but I had the leash gripped so tightly that he flung me into a No Parking sign and into the road. My face and arms were crazy bruised, and I had my 30-day review at my new job that week.

What scared him?

Our neighbor drove past and said, “Hi, guys!” out his car window.

There were tears. Lots of tears.

But there was also this gleam in his eye. Like, we could see him in there. And he and Emmett were slowly becoming the very best buds. Once they started to play, they never, ever stopped. They began to cuddle together on a dog bed. Then he began to cuddle with us and wag and play with us and with toys. He was in there.

Then we’d open our front door, and he’d retreat.

We met with several trainers who gave him a label: aggressive. Thank goodness we kept seeking other answers because we knew he was just flipping terrified.

That was our foundation.

We knew him. We knew he was in there. We knew just how fun-loving and playful he was. It was just hard for him to access that part of himself because the defenses he built were so thick and so high and so dense that it took monumental effort to dismantle them.

Those efforts kicked off the positive reinforcement journey.

And oh, how it changed all our lives. By the time we lost Lucas in 2015, he was himself. He was that fun-loving guy that was in there hidden by fear because the fear (well, most of it) was gone.

He LOVED doggy daycare! I mean, who knew?! That first year, that second year, if you had told either John or I that Lucas would be enrolling in cage-free daycare and boarding there, we would have split our sides laughing so hard.

But he did, and he loved it to pieces.

At a reactive dog group class Lucas and I took, one of the our classmates turned to me at one point and said, “Are you really sure he’s reactive?”

Highest praise I’ve ever received.

But the thing is, I was taking that class with him seven years after we had adopted him. He was never “fixed” or whatever. We learned his triggers and how to manage them, but we worked at it. Constantly. And had backslides.

He was so fun. Such a big, fluffy ball of love, filled with light and laughter. He loved hanging out with people and wrestling with dogs.

He still had his fears, and they’d crop up sometimes unexpectedly. But, at the end of the day, I learned so much from him, my training mentor and inspiration, about patience and about perseverance. I learned how resilient a dog can be and how the best things in life take the hardest work.

He was my teacher and carried a little piece of my soul with him. I’m grateful for all the lessons he taught me, and I sure wish he were still around to guide me.

I could sure use some help with Cooper. 🙂

The gift of positive dog training: kindness

12•09•16

Let’s say you’re at school hanging out on the playground. Another kid has some pieces of candy that you really want. You have two possible courses of action: Shove the kid over and snatch a piece, or ask him nicely if he’d be willing to share. The outcome in both instances is the same. You end up with a piece of candy. But in one, you’re a jerk, and in the other, you’re a friend.

Which one do you want to be?

OK, yes, there’s no question that that scenario is a gross oversimplification, but when you compare modes of dog training… it’s not too far off. I want my dog to sit. I can ask him nicely–through positive training techniques like luring or shaping–or I can shove his butt on the ground. In both cases, he sits. Mission accomplished. But in one, I’m a jerk, and in the other, I’m a friend.

That’s kind of how I think of it, and I’d always rather be a friend.

To me, that’s the gift of positive dog training. You have the opportunity to teach–and, thus, spread–kindness.

(Obvi, this pic is from over the summer. I snapped it after a round of Recall Relay, his favorite backyard training game. He looks so stinking happy in this pic that I thought it was the perfect representation of this topic!)

For dogs like Cooper, that’s particularly important. He’s a smidge neurotic, and what he’s totally fine with one day (nail clipping is nbd, yo!) he decides is terrifying the next (omg, get those clippers away from me, you devil you!) without warning. I need to work at his pace and accommodate his neuroses, and if I were the jerk, shoving him and pushing him and forcing him to do things that truly terrified him even if they make no sense to me whatsoever, maybe I’d get the same outcome but our relationship would suffer.

I’m not working against him.

I’m not pushing him or forcing him to do anything. With positive training, we work together. We’re building a partnership. He trusts me. He knows that if he’s scared, he can count on me to be there with kindness and, OK maybe not understanding (I mean, we clipped his nails for YEARS with the same clippers and never once cut the quick or anything negative, but now it’s terrifying?! huh?), but at least with gentleness and gratitude for his willingness to work with me.

Yes, sometimes he feels uncomfortable. Once we’re totally comfortable at one step, he has to go to the next step. That’s how it works. But by being kind, by being his friend, he trusts me to guide him to the other side of that discomfort, and he knows that when he gets there, I’m going to throw him one hell of a treat party!

This post in part of the Positive Pet Training blog hop, and this month’s prompt was “the gift of positive training.” Honestly, there are many gifts: that moment when you see the lightbulb flare to life in your pup’s head, that moment when something he was scared of becomes nbd, that moment when your tired-from-working-hard dog crawls onto your lap for a big snuggle. All that, to me, comes from the kindness inherent in positive pet training.

And that’s a gift that Cooper and I can keep on re-gifting to one another for the life of our partnership.

This month, thanks to the generosity of the blog hop hosts, there’s a positive pet training GIVEAWAY! Woop! You can enter to win two puzzle toys, a selection of treats, and a trick training book (it’s the same one Coop and I use).

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Thank you to our hosts, Tenacious Little Terrier and Rubicon Days, for making this possible!

When training takes years, literal years, don’t forget the small victories

07•10•16

It’s easy to forget how much progress is made with incremental, teeny-tiny baby steps.

When you’re in the thick of it, especially when you’re dealing with a problem behavior instead of, like, a fun trick, you can’t even fathom that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, let alone see it.

Once you get there, having taken those itty-bitty steps for God-knows-how-long, it’s easy to forget every teensy step that got you there. Or maybe not forget. Maybe gloss over. I call it self preservation because if you could conceptualize just how much effort some behaviors take… well, it might discourage you from trying.

You might have something in mind that was like that for you and your pup. Your own Everest of Dog Training. For Lucas, it was his dog aggression. Years and years and years of daily work, tears, classes, setbacks, more daily work, more classes, more setbacks… that ultimately made him Most Popular Jock at doggy daycare (title invented by me).

For Cooper, well, he has a series of Everests. Some are foothills, I suppose, because just about everything with him requires some sort of struggle. (Everything but cuddling and running, anyway.)

Our big victory, though, the thing I want to focus on for this blog hop is one of those that took so long and so many incremental steps that one day very recently (Friday) we realized… oh, my goodness… we’re on the other side of the tunnel/over the mountain and through the woods!

That thing?

The vacuum.

About 4 years ago, Cooper decided out of the blue that he hated the vacuum. Not only did he hate it. Oh, no. He needed to kill it. It came out of the blue because we spent a lot of his puppyhood desensitizing him to things like the vacuum that, post-adolescence, he just wouldn’t tolerate. (See: My theory why.)

Anyway, after struggling with his behavior… both vacuums are covered in bite marks… we decided to tackle the unsafe, unpleasant behavior. At the time I contemplated making a “before” video, but I ultimately decided against it because, once I was committed to addressing it, I didn’t want a single other incident!

We did all the usual vacuum-fear-counterconditioning things: Left it out and periodically put treats on and around it, touched the handle without turning it on while giving treats, moving it without turning it on while giving treats, and so on. The entire time, every time we had to actually run the vacuum, we put him outside or in another room to prevent repeats. Then we moved to running it with him nearby but behind a gate while giving him treats and ultimately escalated to tossing treats away from the running vacuum until finally, finally he was able to take treats from you while you were vacuuming.

Years. Also, our floors were never quite clean because all that? Yeah, it was a giant pain in the ass.

Which brings us to Friday. John got the vacuum out, and as soon as he hit the power button…. Cooper ran straight over to him! To where John was vacuuming! And right up to the vacuum!

Of course, four years later, his thought process is now, “Vacuum turns on, and even though I hate it, I get piles and piles of treattttttssssss!!!!” Which was the goal.

Yet, somehow we never really saw or realized: We achieved our goal!

No, he doesn’t trust the vacuum, and no, he’s not 100%. I’ve realized he still goes after the hose if I let his concentration waver. But. He did it. Or, at least, he’s doing it.

And it was so incremental, we didn’t even realize it!

“NBD! Gimme treats, man!” (Ed note: Please ignore the crappy photo. I will learn how to take pics some day… prob as soon as I get a camera… ha!)

“OK, maybe a little bit of a BD here with the hose. See these ears? These are BD ears. More treats, please.”

What are you working on in tiny baby steps? What progress have you made that you maybe take for granted? Celebrate those wins, y’all!