Showing 26 posts from November 2008
I got a request this week for help from a woman with three dogs: a Rottweiler, a female Malinois, and a beagle. The behavioral problem was that the Malinois had developed a fixation with eating the Rotti’s feces. I asked a number of questions about the past history, the type of training, exercise levels, etc., and there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary that could be causing this behavior. My suspicion was (and is) that the dog’s prey drive wasn’t getting enough of a workout. The owner had done some drive training, but in my view, it wasn’t precise enough for this dog (or maybe for this breed). Also, part of my suspicion is that the dog was acting out to reflect something she felt was lacking in her relationship with the owner. The owner had also been given the suggestion of using an electronic collar, but was hesitant about it.
Conflict Training, 101
The way I see it all canine behavior—whether learned or instinctive, normal or abnormal—is done in an attempt to reduce or release some kind of internal tension. When you think about it, even breathing is a matter of tension and release. When too much tension builds up inside a dog’s system, that’s when we tend to see abnormal behaviors.
The normal way for a dog to reduce tension is through some activity related to the prey drive. Looking at the wolf model, we can see that wolves are an anomaly in the natural world. They’re one of only three types of mammals that routinely hunt animals that are larger and more dangerous than them- selves: CANINES hunt bison, elk, and moose, while ORCAS and other species of dolphin hunt whales. The third mammal in this category is HOMO SAPIENS. All three species originally hunted large prey by working cooperatively, though humans later developed weapons, so we no longer need to hunt in groups. (Someone ought to tell that to Dick Cheney.)
The bottom line is that a wolf’s social instincts are based on their need to hunt large prey. For instance, wolves who settle near a dump don’t really form packs. They have looser social arrangements. It also turns out that coyotes—whom it was thought for years did not form packs—actually do, but only when they need to hunt large prey.
(I’m getting to the point, trust me.)
Bison, elk, moose, etc. have horns and hooves. It’s very dangerous for an individual wolf to hunt one of these large animals, so they also evolved strategies like scavenging, hunting small prey, and will even at times eat vegetation. The survival instinct sort of dictates that they not put themselves in harm’s way by hunting large prey unless they are absolutely driven to do it.
This is where Nature becomes a clever taskmaster. If she wants wolves to hunt large prey she has to design a strong enough motivation for them to leave the safety of the den and foray into the path of those hooves and horns. And the basic underlying mechanism for motivating wolves to hunt large prey is a build-up internal tension or stress. When the pack gets hungry enough, the prey drive starts to kick in. Once it’s strong enough to override the need for safety, the wolves are driven to hunt. That’s not entirely accurate, though, because it doesn’t reflect the wolf’s actual experience or point of view. What these animals are really driven to do is to simply get rid of their tension. Think of the way a male dog goes after a female in heat. If you look at it from this angle you can see that he’s not interested in mating per se, he’s really only interested in getting rid of the overwhelming levels of tension and stress he’s feeling. The higher the stress levels, the more driven he is to complete his “task.”
Another factor for wolves in particular (and dogs to a lesser extent) is that at every step in the predatory sequence—the search, the eye stalk, the chase, the grab bite and kill bite—a wolf's body produces endorphins, providing internal rewards for each behavior phase of the sequence.
So in nature (and no matter how domesticated they are, dogs are still a part of nature), the ultimate release of stress comes through acting on the prey drive with no (or very few) inhibitions. And the primary reason stress builds up in the first place is because the animals are inhibited about acting on the prey drive because doing so is dangerous.
So when I hear of a dog like your Malinois, whose behavior is outside the normal range (and coprophragia is normal in puppies, but not in a two- year old), I automatically see it as being related in some way to a blocked flow—an inhibition—of the dog’s prey drive.
So how do we fix it?
I don’t like to use punishment in cases like this, because in order for the punishment to successfully override an instinctive, compulsive, or habitual behavior, it has to be so strong and so severe, that you run the risk of making the dog shut down in other ways. True, an electric shock can accomplish that goal, and may do so safely in some cases. But even if it were to work, there’s a downside to it, which is that the nervous system runs on electricity, and one of the last things you want to do is download more electric energy into a dog whose nervous system may already be overloaded.
In general terms what I might do in this type of situation is put the dog in conflict between something that she wants to do vs. obeying my command. In Natural Dog Training we call this “conflict training.” You don’t necessarily have to use the Rotti’s poop to do it, as long as it’s some activity that your Malinois has the same or a similar level of attachment or attraction to. Once she’s developed an ability or skill-set to give up one attachment in favor of obeying you, others will start to naturally fall into place.
Something similar that comes to mind, which illustrates this approach, is a compulsive behavior my own dog had years ago of digging in sand boxes. He particularly liked to “bury” his favorite toy—an empty soda or Poland Spring water bottle—in the sand. Conflict training is basically what I sued to cure him of his compulsive digging. (Now that I think about it, he used to love to eat wino shit in Central Park, too; but after I did the sandbox exercise with him, it was much easier to call him away from that unappetizing habit; and calling him away—followed by a game of chase—cured him of his coprophragia, so it might very well work for you!)
Here’s what I did:
I put him on a long leash, in a down stay near a sand box and put a soda bottle close to him, but off to the side a little, at an indirect angle to him. Then I walked away, backwards, facing him directly the whole time, hold- ing the end of the leash. Then when I got to the end of the leash, I called him to me: “Okay, Freddie, come!” If he went for the bottle instead of running to me, I ran over and without saying anything used the leash to put him back into his original position, using short, fairly hard pops on the collar*, acting as if we were both in a dangerous situation the whole time. Then, once he and the bottle were back in the original position, I reminded him, “Stay!” and did it all again. *(You have to be careful that the pops don’t cause him to lose focus on you; they should actually motivate him to work harder with you.)
Once we got to the point that he ran straight back to me on command, instead of going for the bottle, I rewarded him with another bottle I had hidden in my training vest, though I didn’t just give it to him: I made him chase me around first for about 15 secs., then I threw it for him to chase on his own. (I had put a small amount of water inside so I could throw it farther than if it had been empty.) It also helped that his other favorite activity was de“cap”itating those bottles. So even though he had an impulse to take the bottle back to the sand box and bury it, all I had to do was say, “Take the cap off!” and he would settle down with the bottle and take the cap off with his teeth.
He was a Dalmatian, so it took a while before he “got” the “point” of the game. And I had to do it with him holding the stay at various places around and even inside the sandbox so he could cross-contextualize it. Once he got it, he actually “locked-in” to me. And I only had to re-acquaint him with the exercise once the next day after that first session. He never showed any interest in digging again. (And as I mentioned before, it was instrumental in stopping him from eating human feces in the park.)
Now going back to what I said up top, here’s my point: digging is actually one way a dog has of sublimating his prey drive, meaning he’s expressing it in some “safe” way that doesn’t involve chasing and biting a prey object. For whatever reason Freddie had inhibitions about chasing and biting in play. Now your dog doesn’t seem to have the same inhibitions that Freddie did, but my suspicion is that she does have some because scavenging and eating feces are also ways a dog has of circumventing and only partially satisfying their prey drive. In my scenario, once Freddie’s inhibitions were resolved he no longer had a need to dig in sandboxes or eat feces.
Another approach I’d take with your dog is I would hand feed her all her meals outdoors, using what’s called the “pushing exercise.” I’ve posted a link just below. One thing I didn’t describe in the sandbox exercise was the fact that I had taught Freddie to jump up on me on command, and that was part of the “chase me” game I played with him when he obeyed the recall. Jumping up basically causes a dog to plug a lot of her energy into you. It overcomes some of those natural inhibitions dogs have about seeing us as “prey” in the same way they see a Frisbee or another dog they like to play with as something to chase. The pushing exercise accomplishes the same goal as jumping up but without some of the drawbacks. So print out the article found in the link below and follow the instructions carefully. It will increase your dog’s levels of social attraction to you, which will increase the reliability of her recall, and might even reduce some of her need to eat feces in the first place.
http://www.tiny.cc/SwimUpstream
Doing the “eyes” exercise (below) may also help. You may have already taught it to her as “watch me,” but I think this version has a wrinkle or two that makes it stronger. Basically dogs alternately see us—or I should say they feel, us on a knee-jerk level—as either prey and predator. The more prey-like we become, the more interested in obeying us they are. However, to some extent, the more predator-like we are the more that increases their obedience skills too. The difference is that in the first case the dogs obey us willingly, because it makes them feel good, it makes them feel connected to us in the strongest way possible. But the more predator-like we are, the more their obedience is based on fear. (This is why dominance training works; it’s also why dominance trainers think dogs see them as the “pack leader,” when they actually sees the trainer the way a wolf sees a moose who suddenly turns and brandishes his antlers.)
http://tiny.cc/TheEyesHaveIt
If I were you, I’d wait a few weeks of doing these two exercises before attempting the conflict training. Remember, I had already done the jumping up with Freddie.
One thing that will give you a clue as to how this is going to help is that after you do the pushing exercise, you may find that your doggie plays tug- of-war with a lot more energy and focus; she’ll probably bite and pull a lot harder than she did before. You can also integrate the pushing dynamic into your games of tug, which will up the ante considerably. And always remember, the key to reducing tension in the canine species comes primarily through chasing and biting.
Sorry for the lengthy reply. I hope this helps!
LCK
The normal way for a dog to reduce tension is through some activity related to the prey drive. Looking at the wolf model, we can see that wolves are an anomaly in the natural world. They’re one of only three types of mammals that routinely hunt animals that are larger and more dangerous than them- selves: CANINES hunt bison, elk, and moose, while ORCAS and other species of dolphin hunt whales. The third mammal in this category is HOMO SAPIENS. All three species originally hunted large prey by working cooperatively, though humans later developed weapons, so we no longer need to hunt in groups. (Someone ought to tell that to Dick Cheney.)
The bottom line is that a wolf’s social instincts are based on their need to hunt large prey. For instance, wolves who settle near a dump don’t really form packs. They have looser social arrangements. It also turns out that coyotes—whom it was thought for years did not form packs—actually do, but only when they need to hunt large prey.
(I’m getting to the point, trust me.)
Bison, elk, moose, etc. have horns and hooves. It’s very dangerous for an individual wolf to hunt one of these large animals, so they also evolved strategies like scavenging, hunting small prey, and will even at times eat vegetation. The survival instinct sort of dictates that they not put themselves in harm’s way by hunting large prey unless they are absolutely driven to do it.
This is where Nature becomes a clever taskmaster. If she wants wolves to hunt large prey she has to design a strong enough motivation for them to leave the safety of the den and foray into the path of those hooves and horns. And the basic underlying mechanism for motivating wolves to hunt large prey is a build-up internal tension or stress. When the pack gets hungry enough, the prey drive starts to kick in. Once it’s strong enough to override the need for safety, the wolves are driven to hunt. That’s not entirely accurate, though, because it doesn’t reflect the wolf’s actual experience or point of view. What these animals are really driven to do is to simply get rid of their tension. Think of the way a male dog goes after a female in heat. If you look at it from this angle you can see that he’s not interested in mating per se, he’s really only interested in getting rid of the overwhelming levels of tension and stress he’s feeling. The higher the stress levels, the more driven he is to complete his “task.”
Another factor for wolves in particular (and dogs to a lesser extent) is that at every step in the predatory sequence—the search, the eye stalk, the chase, the grab bite and kill bite—a wolf's body produces endorphins, providing internal rewards for each behavior phase of the sequence.
So in nature (and no matter how domesticated they are, dogs are still a part of nature), the ultimate release of stress comes through acting on the prey drive with no (or very few) inhibitions. And the primary reason stress builds up in the first place is because the animals are inhibited about acting on the prey drive because doing so is dangerous.
So when I hear of a dog like your Malinois, whose behavior is outside the normal range (and coprophragia is normal in puppies, but not in a two- year old), I automatically see it as being related in some way to a blocked flow—an inhibition—of the dog’s prey drive.
So how do we fix it?
I don’t like to use punishment in cases like this, because in order for the punishment to successfully override an instinctive, compulsive, or habitual behavior, it has to be so strong and so severe, that you run the risk of making the dog shut down in other ways. True, an electric shock can accomplish that goal, and may do so safely in some cases. But even if it were to work, there’s a downside to it, which is that the nervous system runs on electricity, and one of the last things you want to do is download more electric energy into a dog whose nervous system may already be overloaded.
In general terms what I might do in this type of situation is put the dog in conflict between something that she wants to do vs. obeying my command. In Natural Dog Training we call this “conflict training.” You don’t necessarily have to use the Rotti’s poop to do it, as long as it’s some activity that your Malinois has the same or a similar level of attachment or attraction to. Once she’s developed an ability or skill-set to give up one attachment in favor of obeying you, others will start to naturally fall into place.
Something similar that comes to mind, which illustrates this approach, is a compulsive behavior my own dog had years ago of digging in sand boxes. He particularly liked to “bury” his favorite toy—an empty soda or Poland Spring water bottle—in the sand. Conflict training is basically what I sued to cure him of his compulsive digging. (Now that I think about it, he used to love to eat wino shit in Central Park, too; but after I did the sandbox exercise with him, it was much easier to call him away from that unappetizing habit; and calling him away—followed by a game of chase—cured him of his coprophragia, so it might very well work for you!)
Here’s what I did:
I put him on a long leash, in a down stay near a sand box and put a soda bottle close to him, but off to the side a little, at an indirect angle to him. Then I walked away, backwards, facing him directly the whole time, hold- ing the end of the leash. Then when I got to the end of the leash, I called him to me: “Okay, Freddie, come!” If he went for the bottle instead of running to me, I ran over and without saying anything used the leash to put him back into his original position, using short, fairly hard pops on the collar*, acting as if we were both in a dangerous situation the whole time. Then, once he and the bottle were back in the original position, I reminded him, “Stay!” and did it all again. *(You have to be careful that the pops don’t cause him to lose focus on you; they should actually motivate him to work harder with you.)
Once we got to the point that he ran straight back to me on command, instead of going for the bottle, I rewarded him with another bottle I had hidden in my training vest, though I didn’t just give it to him: I made him chase me around first for about 15 secs., then I threw it for him to chase on his own. (I had put a small amount of water inside so I could throw it farther than if it had been empty.) It also helped that his other favorite activity was de“cap”itating those bottles. So even though he had an impulse to take the bottle back to the sand box and bury it, all I had to do was say, “Take the cap off!” and he would settle down with the bottle and take the cap off with his teeth.
He was a Dalmatian, so it took a while before he “got” the “point” of the game. And I had to do it with him holding the stay at various places around and even inside the sandbox so he could cross-contextualize it. Once he got it, he actually “locked-in” to me. And I only had to re-acquaint him with the exercise once the next day after that first session. He never showed any interest in digging again. (And as I mentioned before, it was instrumental in stopping him from eating human feces in the park.)
Now going back to what I said up top, here’s my point: digging is actually one way a dog has of sublimating his prey drive, meaning he’s expressing it in some “safe” way that doesn’t involve chasing and biting a prey object. For whatever reason Freddie had inhibitions about chasing and biting in play. Now your dog doesn’t seem to have the same inhibitions that Freddie did, but my suspicion is that she does have some because scavenging and eating feces are also ways a dog has of circumventing and only partially satisfying their prey drive. In my scenario, once Freddie’s inhibitions were resolved he no longer had a need to dig in sandboxes or eat feces.
Another approach I’d take with your dog is I would hand feed her all her meals outdoors, using what’s called the “pushing exercise.” I’ve posted a link just below. One thing I didn’t describe in the sandbox exercise was the fact that I had taught Freddie to jump up on me on command, and that was part of the “chase me” game I played with him when he obeyed the recall. Jumping up basically causes a dog to plug a lot of her energy into you. It overcomes some of those natural inhibitions dogs have about seeing us as “prey” in the same way they see a Frisbee or another dog they like to play with as something to chase. The pushing exercise accomplishes the same goal as jumping up but without some of the drawbacks. So print out the article found in the link below and follow the instructions carefully. It will increase your dog’s levels of social attraction to you, which will increase the reliability of her recall, and might even reduce some of her need to eat feces in the first place.
http://www.tiny.cc/SwimUpstream
Doing the “eyes” exercise (below) may also help. You may have already taught it to her as “watch me,” but I think this version has a wrinkle or two that makes it stronger. Basically dogs alternately see us—or I should say they feel, us on a knee-jerk level—as either prey and predator. The more prey-like we become, the more interested in obeying us they are. However, to some extent, the more predator-like we are the more that increases their obedience skills too. The difference is that in the first case the dogs obey us willingly, because it makes them feel good, it makes them feel connected to us in the strongest way possible. But the more predator-like we are, the more their obedience is based on fear. (This is why dominance training works; it’s also why dominance trainers think dogs see them as the “pack leader,” when they actually sees the trainer the way a wolf sees a moose who suddenly turns and brandishes his antlers.)
http://tiny.cc/TheEyesHaveIt
If I were you, I’d wait a few weeks of doing these two exercises before attempting the conflict training. Remember, I had already done the jumping up with Freddie.
One thing that will give you a clue as to how this is going to help is that after you do the pushing exercise, you may find that your doggie plays tug- of-war with a lot more energy and focus; she’ll probably bite and pull a lot harder than she did before. You can also integrate the pushing dynamic into your games of tug, which will up the ante considerably. And always remember, the key to reducing tension in the canine species comes primarily through chasing and biting.
Sorry for the lengthy reply. I hope this helps!
LCK
I’ve been inspired by Neil Sattin’s blog to start disseminating some basic training tips here. And since getting your dog to come when called is probably the single most important thing you can teach him, I’m starting with a simple, fun exercise you can do at the dog run, where you don’t run the risk that the little critter will run off and ruin his training. Well, he might try to, but he won’t get very far. And if you work on your dog’s recall (a “technical” training term for coming when called) in this safe environment he may very well come when called in other situations as well.
Coming When Called at the Dog Run
Whenever you take your dog to the dog run, always bring along some treats and the squeaker from a squeaky toy. Always pay close attention to your dog. When he’s not interacting with other dogs, or not sniffing around, and seems to need something to do, give a loud whistle, or clap your hands, or squeak the squeaker. (If I’m in a big dog run I’ll use an actual ref’s whistle.) When he looks at you, show him that you’ve got a treat.
BUT DON’T CALL HIM TO YOU YET! Wait until he starts running toward you. Then, while he’s already in the process of running, say “Muttsy, come!” in an excited voice. Then reward him with the treat and a lot of praise. (It wouldn’t be a bad idea to jump up and act happy and get him to chase you around a little too.) This will probably excite not only your dog but several other dogs in the vicinity, so let things settle down a little, and the dogs will start playing again. Wait until there’s another lull in the action, and repeat.
Another cool trick is to play a modified version of “hide-n-seek”: When your dog isn’t paying attention to you, move. Go stand or sit somewhere else. Then, when he looks back to where you were standing or sitting, and can’t see you, he’ll suddenly have a strong desire to find you. When he does, wave a treat and run away. He’ll come flying toward you as fast as he can. As he does, say, “Muttsy, come!” in an excited voice, then reward him with the treat and a little bit of chase. (Most dog runs frown on people getting dogs to chase them around like this, so you have to keep it to minimum.)
After a few days of doing these exercises, your dog will automatically start looking for you more often when there’s a lull in the action. He’ll even start coming back to check in with you from time to time. It’s vitally important during this stage, that every time he comes back to you on his own, without any direction from you, that you praise him and give him a tasty treat.
One other important bit of advice, if your dog is in the habit of running away when it’s time to leave the run and go home, never stand there with the leash in your hand and call him! Have the leash hidden, and put it on your dog while he’s distracted by eating a treat out of your hand. Another good tip: after you leash him up, take him for a brisk walk, a game of chase and tug, while running or jogging around or near the dog run. Then take him back inside and let him loose again.
If your dog has as much fun playing with as he does with the other dogs, you may find that when you get back inside the dog run he’ll actually hang around you for a while before he finally runs off and throws himself into the tumble of dogs waiting for him. If you do these exercises often enough, and make your dog’s experience of leaving the run with you as fun for him as being inside with the other dogs, he won’t associate the leash with the feeling that “the fun is over.” And the really cool thing is, after just a few weeks of playing with him, you can simply show him the leash and he’ll come running over to you to be leashed up. You won't need to keep doing this every day, either. Nor will you have to keep giving him treats every time he comes (you should gradually wean him off the treats altogether anyway; they're just a tool for those initial stages of learning).
Have fun at the dog run!
LCK
BUT DON’T CALL HIM TO YOU YET! Wait until he starts running toward you. Then, while he’s already in the process of running, say “Muttsy, come!” in an excited voice. Then reward him with the treat and a lot of praise. (It wouldn’t be a bad idea to jump up and act happy and get him to chase you around a little too.) This will probably excite not only your dog but several other dogs in the vicinity, so let things settle down a little, and the dogs will start playing again. Wait until there’s another lull in the action, and repeat.
Another cool trick is to play a modified version of “hide-n-seek”: When your dog isn’t paying attention to you, move. Go stand or sit somewhere else. Then, when he looks back to where you were standing or sitting, and can’t see you, he’ll suddenly have a strong desire to find you. When he does, wave a treat and run away. He’ll come flying toward you as fast as he can. As he does, say, “Muttsy, come!” in an excited voice, then reward him with the treat and a little bit of chase. (Most dog runs frown on people getting dogs to chase them around like this, so you have to keep it to minimum.)
After a few days of doing these exercises, your dog will automatically start looking for you more often when there’s a lull in the action. He’ll even start coming back to check in with you from time to time. It’s vitally important during this stage, that every time he comes back to you on his own, without any direction from you, that you praise him and give him a tasty treat.
One other important bit of advice, if your dog is in the habit of running away when it’s time to leave the run and go home, never stand there with the leash in your hand and call him! Have the leash hidden, and put it on your dog while he’s distracted by eating a treat out of your hand. Another good tip: after you leash him up, take him for a brisk walk, a game of chase and tug, while running or jogging around or near the dog run. Then take him back inside and let him loose again.
If your dog has as much fun playing with as he does with the other dogs, you may find that when you get back inside the dog run he’ll actually hang around you for a while before he finally runs off and throws himself into the tumble of dogs waiting for him. If you do these exercises often enough, and make your dog’s experience of leaving the run with you as fun for him as being inside with the other dogs, he won’t associate the leash with the feeling that “the fun is over.” And the really cool thing is, after just a few weeks of playing with him, you can simply show him the leash and he’ll come running over to you to be leashed up. You won't need to keep doing this every day, either. Nor will you have to keep giving him treats every time he comes (you should gradually wean him off the treats altogether anyway; they're just a tool for those initial stages of learning).
Have fun at the dog run!
LCK
Part of my reasons for re-starting my blog here was that it gives me and the readers an easy way to find favorite blog posts from my Amazon days. I'm in the process of going through all the old posts and consolidating them. This is the first post that I think should be available here. Enjoy!
I’m working with a big, burly, three-year old chocolate Lab named Boomer, trying to deal with his aggression toward other dogs, and had planned yesterday to take him on a walk with one of his sworn enemies, Malachi, a tall, two-year old black Lab with too much unfocused energy. I’ll get to that in a bit, but first, where does Boomer’s aggression come from? What is the root cause of his behavior? He’s generally a sweet animal, with positive social impulses. What’s going on?
When I first read Natural Dog Training (which is the basis for the way I train dogs), I was struck by something Kevin Behan wrote: that when a dog lunges at another dog, in attack mode, he’s actually highly attracted to that dog. This may sound paradoxical at first (it certainly did to me at the time), but when you think of it in terms of pure magnetic energy, i.e., the polar opposites of electromagnetism -- attraction and resistance -- and then think about how certain emotions carry a strong energetic charge, you may begin to see a little of what Kevin meant. If you add the fact that all aggression is based on some kind of fear (whether it’s a fear of what the other animal might do to you or a fear of what the other animal might take, aka resource guarding), then also add the fact that fear always creates one of two responses -- fight or flight -- and recognize the obvious, that an animal who wants to fight, rather than flee, will tend to move very energetically toward the object of his aggression, then you’ll start to see that a dog in attack mode really is highly attracted to his “enemy.”
If he’s attracted though, you might be thinking, why the intent to kill or harm his enemy? The answer is simple: there is no intent, just emotion and instinct. However, if you need or want to put an intent to the dog’s actions (which is probably anthropomorphic), you could see it as an intent to conquer or destroy his fear by conquering or destroying the object or the source of that fear. “If I kill Malachi,” Boomer would be saying to himself in this kind of scenario, “I’ll be able to get rid of this awful feeling I have inside and feel safe.”
But I think a clearer understanding of pure emotion vs. conscious intent comes from an analysis of the phenomenon of raised hackles. Biologists tell us that an animal raises its hackles in order to make himself look bigger to his enemy. But does a dog (or an owl or a porcupine) intend to make himself look bigger, and thus think, “I should raise my hackles (or my feathers or my quills). Then I’ll be safe!” Of course not. The behavior is controlled by the autonomic nervous system; it’s no more under conscious control than a raise in blood pressure caused by a frightening stimulus. By the same token, neither does Boomer have a conscious intent to damage or harm or kill Malachi; just to reduce or resolve his own emotional tension. And if Malachi is the source of that tension than Boomer will be highly attracted to him as a result. Either that or he’ll run away.
So why doesn’t Boomer (or Malachi, or any dog) always run away?
Good question. I think the answer is because that when a dog is in an aggressive mood he’s already beginning to download his fear energy through aggression. The other part, particularly with Boomie and Mally, is that the most prominent psychological characteristic of dogs as a species, and Labs in general is that they’re friendly animals. They want and need to form strong social bonds, both with humans and with other dogs. So Boomer’s fear is not a pure fear. It’s an amalgam of the fear of what Malachi might do to him, and a desire to make friendly contact with a possible packmate and potential playmate. If it were pure fear then, yeah, Boomer would avoid Malachi like the plague, and vice versa.
If you still think Boomer and Malachi didn’t have an intense attraction for one another, when they first met outside Boomer’s brownstone, my back muscles and knee joints would beg to differ. So would Frances’.
Here’s what happened:
Boomer and his owners live a few blocks away from the promenade in Brooklyn Heights. Malachi was staying with Frances Kuffel, my former literary agent, who lives a few blocks in another direction. She agreed to bring Malachi along for this training exercise, which is simply to try to take both dogs on a walk together. (As I mentioned yesterday, when two dogs hate each other and you walk them together, the parallel movement stimulates a fixed-action pattern similar to the way wolves move in synch, side-by-side, when they go out on the hunt; this type of harmonious movement temporarily dissipates their aggression.)
I met Frances and Malachi at her place, then she and I came over to Boomer’s building. I went inside to get Boomer and had Frances wait across the street with Malachi. She was a little worried about what would happen, and so was I. Make no mistake about it, all theory aside, this was going to be brutal! At least initially. But I knew that once we got the dogs walking together everything would settle down.
When I brought Boomer outside he was in a happy, excited mood. Then he saw Frances and Malachi. At first he did nothing. He loves Frances a lot. And Malachi was clear across the street -- no danger there. But Malachi has less impulse control than most dogs, so he began barking excitedly at Boomer, and lunged in our direction, nearly pulling Frances off her feet. Boomer, meanwhile, became a “sled dog” and pulled me toward Malachi, matching the other dog’s barks with vocalizations of his own.
Frances was saying, “Now, Mally, settle down,” in a quiet, reasonable tone. This was kind of amusing to me and basically pointless, but at least she wasn’t screaming “No!” at the dog, which would’ve made things worse. (She should have praised him.)
Meanwhile I got Boomer under control by pulling hard on the six-foot leash with my left hand (which from the flying position I was in threw my lower back muscle into spasms) until I was able to make a temporary loop, which I held in my right. Then I let Boomer lunge by dropping the temporary loop, spun around on my right heel, and ran in the other direction. This discombobulated Boomie long enough for me to show him some kibble, invite him to jump up on me to take it, which he did, and that dissipated his energy momentarily. While Boomer was eating from my hand (with his back turned to Malachi), I told Frances, “Go down to the boardwalk and we’ll meet you there!”
She complied.
When Boomer and I got to the promenade, and the two dogs were again face-to-face, there was another loud explosion from both of them. This time, however, all I needed to do was make a kissing sound and Boomer spun around to me, ready to jump up and get some more kibble. Then I got him walking toward the far end of the promenade and motioned to Frances to follow. (We couldn’t hear each other very well due to a helicopter flying low above us.)
Frances and Malachi caught up with me and Boomer, and as the four of us walked along there was a bit of aggressive eye contact passing between both dogs, but no lunging or barking. Then, after what amounted to one small city block the dogs had settled down quite nicely; Frances and I were praising them the whole time.
Then an interesting thing happened, Boomer veered energetically off to the left and took a long pee, When he was done, and we moved back next to Frances and Malachi, he started looking over at the younger dog with no aggressive feelings at all. His eyes, which had been narrowed and hard before, and almost glinting, had now softened considerably. So had his muscles and his body language. In fact, he seemed to want to make normal, social contact. He began walking directly behind Malachi, pulling me in that direction (which I allowed him to do, sensing his lack of aggression). He went right up behind the dog he’d tried to kill just minutes before, and began sniffing his butt! That’s akin to a friendly handshake in the human world!
Malachi didn’t like that much, though, so he spun around and barked at Boomer, trying to make him to back off. Boomer didn’t like Malachi barking at him so a tiny fracas ensued, which I was able to easily disperse again with a kissing sound, which caused Boomie to turn around and look at me. Once I got Boomer’s attention, Malachi was fine and there was no more trouble.
We walked clear to the far end of the promenade, then up Montague Street, and met a few other doggies along the way, whom both dogs sniffed and said hello to at the same time, with their noses within mere inches of one another, and there was no emotional tension. At one point I thought Boomer might even relieve himself again, this time to empty his bowels -- which would’ve been a real positive step -- but he still wasn’t feeling like totally letting go of his aggression.
The session ended with both dogs worn out, tired, and mostly in-synch, though not totally in phase, with one another (meaning I won't be allowing them to try to play together at the dog run just yet).
Frances asked, “Does this mean they won’t try to kill each other again?”
I said, “Probably not. It’s just a step. But at least Boomer knows now that he and Malachi can get along. That’s gonna help in the long run.”
Boomer & Malachi Go on a Walk Together
Originally posted April 25, 2006
I’m working with a big, burly, three-year old chocolate Lab named Boomer, trying to deal with his aggression toward other dogs, and had planned yesterday to take him on a walk with one of his sworn enemies, Malachi, a tall, two-year old black Lab with too much unfocused energy. I’ll get to that in a bit, but first, where does Boomer’s aggression come from? What is the root cause of his behavior? He’s generally a sweet animal, with positive social impulses. What’s going on?
When I first read Natural Dog Training (which is the basis for the way I train dogs), I was struck by something Kevin Behan wrote: that when a dog lunges at another dog, in attack mode, he’s actually highly attracted to that dog. This may sound paradoxical at first (it certainly did to me at the time), but when you think of it in terms of pure magnetic energy, i.e., the polar opposites of electromagnetism -- attraction and resistance -- and then think about how certain emotions carry a strong energetic charge, you may begin to see a little of what Kevin meant. If you add the fact that all aggression is based on some kind of fear (whether it’s a fear of what the other animal might do to you or a fear of what the other animal might take, aka resource guarding), then also add the fact that fear always creates one of two responses -- fight or flight -- and recognize the obvious, that an animal who wants to fight, rather than flee, will tend to move very energetically toward the object of his aggression, then you’ll start to see that a dog in attack mode really is highly attracted to his “enemy.”
If he’s attracted though, you might be thinking, why the intent to kill or harm his enemy? The answer is simple: there is no intent, just emotion and instinct. However, if you need or want to put an intent to the dog’s actions (which is probably anthropomorphic), you could see it as an intent to conquer or destroy his fear by conquering or destroying the object or the source of that fear. “If I kill Malachi,” Boomer would be saying to himself in this kind of scenario, “I’ll be able to get rid of this awful feeling I have inside and feel safe.”
But I think a clearer understanding of pure emotion vs. conscious intent comes from an analysis of the phenomenon of raised hackles. Biologists tell us that an animal raises its hackles in order to make himself look bigger to his enemy. But does a dog (or an owl or a porcupine) intend to make himself look bigger, and thus think, “I should raise my hackles (or my feathers or my quills). Then I’ll be safe!” Of course not. The behavior is controlled by the autonomic nervous system; it’s no more under conscious control than a raise in blood pressure caused by a frightening stimulus. By the same token, neither does Boomer have a conscious intent to damage or harm or kill Malachi; just to reduce or resolve his own emotional tension. And if Malachi is the source of that tension than Boomer will be highly attracted to him as a result. Either that or he’ll run away.
So why doesn’t Boomer (or Malachi, or any dog) always run away?
Good question. I think the answer is because that when a dog is in an aggressive mood he’s already beginning to download his fear energy through aggression. The other part, particularly with Boomie and Mally, is that the most prominent psychological characteristic of dogs as a species, and Labs in general is that they’re friendly animals. They want and need to form strong social bonds, both with humans and with other dogs. So Boomer’s fear is not a pure fear. It’s an amalgam of the fear of what Malachi might do to him, and a desire to make friendly contact with a possible packmate and potential playmate. If it were pure fear then, yeah, Boomer would avoid Malachi like the plague, and vice versa.
If you still think Boomer and Malachi didn’t have an intense attraction for one another, when they first met outside Boomer’s brownstone, my back muscles and knee joints would beg to differ. So would Frances’.
Here’s what happened:
Boomer and his owners live a few blocks away from the promenade in Brooklyn Heights. Malachi was staying with Frances Kuffel, my former literary agent, who lives a few blocks in another direction. She agreed to bring Malachi along for this training exercise, which is simply to try to take both dogs on a walk together. (As I mentioned yesterday, when two dogs hate each other and you walk them together, the parallel movement stimulates a fixed-action pattern similar to the way wolves move in synch, side-by-side, when they go out on the hunt; this type of harmonious movement temporarily dissipates their aggression.)
I met Frances and Malachi at her place, then she and I came over to Boomer’s building. I went inside to get Boomer and had Frances wait across the street with Malachi. She was a little worried about what would happen, and so was I. Make no mistake about it, all theory aside, this was going to be brutal! At least initially. But I knew that once we got the dogs walking together everything would settle down.
When I brought Boomer outside he was in a happy, excited mood. Then he saw Frances and Malachi. At first he did nothing. He loves Frances a lot. And Malachi was clear across the street -- no danger there. But Malachi has less impulse control than most dogs, so he began barking excitedly at Boomer, and lunged in our direction, nearly pulling Frances off her feet. Boomer, meanwhile, became a “sled dog” and pulled me toward Malachi, matching the other dog’s barks with vocalizations of his own.
Frances was saying, “Now, Mally, settle down,” in a quiet, reasonable tone. This was kind of amusing to me and basically pointless, but at least she wasn’t screaming “No!” at the dog, which would’ve made things worse. (She should have praised him.)
Meanwhile I got Boomer under control by pulling hard on the six-foot leash with my left hand (which from the flying position I was in threw my lower back muscle into spasms) until I was able to make a temporary loop, which I held in my right. Then I let Boomer lunge by dropping the temporary loop, spun around on my right heel, and ran in the other direction. This discombobulated Boomie long enough for me to show him some kibble, invite him to jump up on me to take it, which he did, and that dissipated his energy momentarily. While Boomer was eating from my hand (with his back turned to Malachi), I told Frances, “Go down to the boardwalk and we’ll meet you there!”
She complied.
When Boomer and I got to the promenade, and the two dogs were again face-to-face, there was another loud explosion from both of them. This time, however, all I needed to do was make a kissing sound and Boomer spun around to me, ready to jump up and get some more kibble. Then I got him walking toward the far end of the promenade and motioned to Frances to follow. (We couldn’t hear each other very well due to a helicopter flying low above us.)
Frances and Malachi caught up with me and Boomer, and as the four of us walked along there was a bit of aggressive eye contact passing between both dogs, but no lunging or barking. Then, after what amounted to one small city block the dogs had settled down quite nicely; Frances and I were praising them the whole time.
Then an interesting thing happened, Boomer veered energetically off to the left and took a long pee, When he was done, and we moved back next to Frances and Malachi, he started looking over at the younger dog with no aggressive feelings at all. His eyes, which had been narrowed and hard before, and almost glinting, had now softened considerably. So had his muscles and his body language. In fact, he seemed to want to make normal, social contact. He began walking directly behind Malachi, pulling me in that direction (which I allowed him to do, sensing his lack of aggression). He went right up behind the dog he’d tried to kill just minutes before, and began sniffing his butt! That’s akin to a friendly handshake in the human world!
Malachi didn’t like that much, though, so he spun around and barked at Boomer, trying to make him to back off. Boomer didn’t like Malachi barking at him so a tiny fracas ensued, which I was able to easily disperse again with a kissing sound, which caused Boomie to turn around and look at me. Once I got Boomer’s attention, Malachi was fine and there was no more trouble.
We walked clear to the far end of the promenade, then up Montague Street, and met a few other doggies along the way, whom both dogs sniffed and said hello to at the same time, with their noses within mere inches of one another, and there was no emotional tension. At one point I thought Boomer might even relieve himself again, this time to empty his bowels -- which would’ve been a real positive step -- but he still wasn’t feeling like totally letting go of his aggression.
The session ended with both dogs worn out, tired, and mostly in-synch, though not totally in phase, with one another (meaning I won't be allowing them to try to play together at the dog run just yet).
Frances asked, “Does this mean they won’t try to kill each other again?”
I said, “Probably not. It’s just a step. But at least Boomer knows now that he and Malachi can get along. That’s gonna help in the long run.”
Here's a link to a recent "blog carnival" with several trainers offering tips.
I’m in the process of revamping my website, and I want to make a list of training tips available here (on the left). So here’s another tip from one of my newsletters.
How to Cure Jumping Up
Does Muttsy jump up on you whenever you come home? Does he do the same thing when friends come to visit? Have you been telling him “Down!” or “Off!” with little or no results?
There’s an easy answer, but first you should know that when a dog jumps up he’s usually doing it because he’s expressing an energetic state called “social attraction.” This is not something you’d want to quash or squelch in your dog. In fact, you actually want to nurture more of it because social attraction is the repository for the same emotions that make Muttsy want to come when called and walk nicely next to you on the leash. These emotions comprise one of the basic keys to Natural Dog Training.
There are two simple rules about jumping up: the dog should never be rewarded for jumping up without being asked to do so first, and 2.) the dog should never be punished for the behavior, at least not overtly. To “enforce” the first rule, just make sure that whenever Muttsy jumps up without being asked to do so, simply twist sideways while saying, “Okay, off!” in a pleasant, inviting tone. His idea is to make contact; yours is to not let him.
As for teaching Muttsy to jump up on command, that’s pretty simple too. Just show him a treat or a toy, hold it in front of his nose, then move it up to your knee or thigh, or wherever Muttsy would naturally put his paws if he were to jump up. As he jumps up say “Hup!’ in an inviting tone. (When first teaching a new behavior it’s always a good idea to give the command after the dog has already obeyed it, not before—it sounds backwards, I know, but it works much better during the initial learning stages.) Once the dog has taken the treat or toy from your hand, twist sideways while saying, “Okay, off!” in an inviting one. With most dogs you’ll only need to do this for a few days and he’ll have learned to jump up on command—no more need for treats or toys.
For XXL dogs, have them jump up to an outstretched arm, or just have them lean up against you. For dogs who are shy about jumping up, start from a sitting position or even by lying down on the floor. Gently encourage the dog to come make contact, starting with just one paw on your chest and building slowly and gently from there. Give yourself something like two weeks of short, two-minute sessions, several times a day to bring this type of dog along. For dogs who are too energetic about jumping up, teach them that they only get rewarded when they make calm, steady contact. No “pogo-ing” allowed! After a few days add a twist: hold the dog’s collar as you give him the treat or toy. Don’t let him jump down (or if he’s an XXL dog, don’t let him stop leaning against you) on his own. If he tries to break contact, hold him in place for a fraction of a second, then let him go while saying, “Okay, off!”
Okay, now that the dog has learned the “Hup!” and the “Okay, off!” it’s time to trick him! Stand as you usually do, then pat your knee or thigh, but don’t say “Hup!” Just induce him to jump up without giving him the command, just use the treat and the hand gesture. When he jumps up, immediately step back or twist sideways. Don’t let him make contact! Do this two or three times in a row, depending on how soon he starts to show uncertainty about what to do. Then, on the third or fourth time, pat your knee, thigh, or chest and say, “Hup!” Praise and pet him when he obeys.
With really hard cases it’s okay to put the leash on, let it fall to the floor, stand on it with just a little slack so that Muttsy self-corrects when he tries to jump up. When he does self-correct give him lots and lots of praise so that his emotions and energy don’t shut off.
Do this for a few minutes, several times a day, for two or three days, and you’ll be surprised at how Muttsy no longer jumps up, yet is still socially attracted to you!
Detailed descriptions of these exercises can be found in the groundbreaking book Natural Dog Training by Kevin Behan.
LCK
There’s an easy answer, but first you should know that when a dog jumps up he’s usually doing it because he’s expressing an energetic state called “social attraction.” This is not something you’d want to quash or squelch in your dog. In fact, you actually want to nurture more of it because social attraction is the repository for the same emotions that make Muttsy want to come when called and walk nicely next to you on the leash. These emotions comprise one of the basic keys to Natural Dog Training.
There are two simple rules about jumping up: the dog should never be rewarded for jumping up without being asked to do so first, and 2.) the dog should never be punished for the behavior, at least not overtly. To “enforce” the first rule, just make sure that whenever Muttsy jumps up without being asked to do so, simply twist sideways while saying, “Okay, off!” in a pleasant, inviting tone. His idea is to make contact; yours is to not let him.
As for teaching Muttsy to jump up on command, that’s pretty simple too. Just show him a treat or a toy, hold it in front of his nose, then move it up to your knee or thigh, or wherever Muttsy would naturally put his paws if he were to jump up. As he jumps up say “Hup!’ in an inviting tone. (When first teaching a new behavior it’s always a good idea to give the command after the dog has already obeyed it, not before—it sounds backwards, I know, but it works much better during the initial learning stages.) Once the dog has taken the treat or toy from your hand, twist sideways while saying, “Okay, off!” in an inviting one. With most dogs you’ll only need to do this for a few days and he’ll have learned to jump up on command—no more need for treats or toys.
For XXL dogs, have them jump up to an outstretched arm, or just have them lean up against you. For dogs who are shy about jumping up, start from a sitting position or even by lying down on the floor. Gently encourage the dog to come make contact, starting with just one paw on your chest and building slowly and gently from there. Give yourself something like two weeks of short, two-minute sessions, several times a day to bring this type of dog along. For dogs who are too energetic about jumping up, teach them that they only get rewarded when they make calm, steady contact. No “pogo-ing” allowed! After a few days add a twist: hold the dog’s collar as you give him the treat or toy. Don’t let him jump down (or if he’s an XXL dog, don’t let him stop leaning against you) on his own. If he tries to break contact, hold him in place for a fraction of a second, then let him go while saying, “Okay, off!”
Okay, now that the dog has learned the “Hup!” and the “Okay, off!” it’s time to trick him! Stand as you usually do, then pat your knee or thigh, but don’t say “Hup!” Just induce him to jump up without giving him the command, just use the treat and the hand gesture. When he jumps up, immediately step back or twist sideways. Don’t let him make contact! Do this two or three times in a row, depending on how soon he starts to show uncertainty about what to do. Then, on the third or fourth time, pat your knee, thigh, or chest and say, “Hup!” Praise and pet him when he obeys.
With really hard cases it’s okay to put the leash on, let it fall to the floor, stand on it with just a little slack so that Muttsy self-corrects when he tries to jump up. When he does self-correct give him lots and lots of praise so that his emotions and energy don’t shut off.
Do this for a few minutes, several times a day, for two or three days, and you’ll be surprised at how Muttsy no longer jumps up, yet is still socially attracted to you!
Detailed descriptions of these exercises can be found in the groundbreaking book Natural Dog Training by Kevin Behan.
LCK
