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The Case Against Emotional Support Dogs

Michael Baugh CDBC CPDT-KSA

In early 2002 a man came to my Sunday Morning group dog training class. During introductions he told the class that his doctor had suggested he get a dog, an adorable golden retriever, and that he should take a training class with her. Emotional support dogs weren’t so much a thing back then. And I didn’t know until weeks later exactly why his doctor had prescribed the dog and our class.

Humans’ shared history with dogs is relatively brief. In the big picture humans have been on the planet a very short time (about 200,000 years). Dogs and humans have been together for about 11,000 to 15,000 years give or take. Most of that time the work of dogs has been physical. They flushed prey and retrieved our kills. Dogs moved herds and flocks for us. They guarded flocks too and property and our lives. Dogs were extensions of our bodily will and force, weapons even. In war. In police states. The work of dogs was muscle and motion and might.

Modern human history started around 6,000 years ago when we first formed what we refer to as “civilization.” Villages and Towns. Concepts around the mind and mental wellbeing came later: western and eastern philosophies and religions. Not until the 1800’s did the ideas around modern psychology start to emerge in Europe. Vienna was a hotbed of psychological thought and the home of what became psychotherapy. Dogs in Vienna back then were hunting and killing rats and mice, by the way. Many quite successfully.

Here’s what we know. Our relationships with dogs make us feel good. Please note that I didn’t say dogs make us feel good. They don’t. Not all of them. Not for all of us. Humans produce a hormone associated with social bonding (oxytocin) when in contact with their own dogs. Dogs they know. Dogs they like. This is not new information. And this reaction has little or nothing to do with the dog itself. We produce the hormone in response to our relationship with the dog. It happens with my neighbor who adodores her 10o lb shorthaired block-head dog. It happens with my sister who dotes on her doodle. It happens to me when I look into my dog’s dewey eyes. It happens in men. It happens in women. Oxytocin does not care if your dog pees on your carpet, lunges and threatens strangers, or listens when you call his name. It does not even care if your dog returns your feelings of love and admiration.

Here’s what else we know. Our relationships with our fellow humans make us feel good too. Oxytocin is associated with human bonding most especially. And certainly there are other factors at play. In fact, data throughout the decades indicate that the most important contributor to our overall emotional wellbeing as humans is (wait for it) our successful relationships with other human beings. Compared with any variation of psychoherapy, day-to-day human relationships matter more. (A therapist early in my adult life literally told me to go make some friends. It worked). Yes, human relationships are messy. They are reciprocal. And, sometimes they are not. They are dynamic, blissful, painful, all that. And human relationships are what we humans are built for. And, when done right – they are consensual.

Our dogs have no choice. When I adopted Stella she had no idea what my intentions were. Would she be a game retriever? Would she be a rat hunter? Would she be required to carry the burden of my human emotions, of which she likely has no understanding? Stalk, chase, grab, shake? Yes, dogs are built for that. Navigate the complexities of our human life? I daresay, no. Who among us has even figured that out? And may I also ask, why are we putting this added responsibility on our dogs?

The truth is our dogs need our emotional support. We have taken these formidable physical hunters and guarders and herders and put them on leashes and in cars and up against our sobbing bodies. In many cases we have denied them the sniffing and the sprinting and the seeking they were built for and (literally) boxed them into “calm down” and “hurry up” and “let’s go.” I’m guilty of it too. On top of it all, over the past few decades, we’ve added an extra burden: “and, take care of me please.”

Thirty years ago my profession did not exist. There were no trainers who specialized in emotionally at-risk dogs. And my hope is that in 30 years hence it will not exist again. Let’s shift the focus off ourselves. Let’s take the weight of our own emotional fragility off of our dogs. Let’s challenge ourselves to turn to each other for care and support. And then, let’s turn to our dog and ask “How can I help you?” In relationship with humans dogs produce oxytocin in their own bodies, too. They feel. They bond. They are social animals. Let’s make these simple commitments to our dogs:

  • I will learn to better understand your emotions by leaning how you communicate nonverbally with your body and face.
  • I will keep you safe and protect you from stressors that I can see cause you pain and suffering.
  • I will teach you how to navigate our complex human world with kind and gentle positive reinforcement learning.
  • I will play, exercise, and relax with you. I will share my time with you.
  • I will connect with other human beings to support my emotional wellbeing so that I can better attend to yours on a daily basis, every day for the rest of your life.

A few weeks into that group class back in 2002 I asked folks how they were doing. The man whose doctor had prescribed the dog and our class spoke last. He spoke softly. I will prophase as best I can remember. I have depression. He said.  It’s hard for me to get up some mornings. I don’t always like being around people. But, I have to get up in the morning to take care of (he said his dog’s name). I have to train with her. And, I come here every week. She’s having fun. I think it helps her. And, it’s good for me to get out. I think it’s helping me too.

I think of that man and his dog often. I wonder who his doctor was. What a brilliant idea he had, teaching his patient that a dog could get him up and out in the world. The healing wasn’t in the care his dog provided  him – it was in the care he provided his dog. It’s such a simple and beautiful concept. Go to a training class. It was a specific remedy to go be among people. Fellow human beings – travelers together down this same uncertain path. Even now, I remember the walk up the stairs to my own therapists office. “Go make some friends, Micheal.” Yes. Yes. “Look for the helpers,” as Fred Rogers famously said. Look for each other. Turn to each other. Bond with and care for each other, with a dog at your side if you wish. Make some friends.

And, when the time comes get a petsitter for the dog.

And, take a trip with a friend. You can always share a plane ride with a dear fellow human being.

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Houston TX. He specializes in dogs who behave fearfully or aggressively.

Teaching Your Dog Behavioral Flexibility

Michael Baugh CDBC CPDT-KSA

Behavioral flexibility is our dog’s ability to make adaptive changes in behavior when the environment changes. Adaptive is the key word here. Any dog can (and many do) act impulsively when things around them change. Think: barking, lunging, or even biting. The behaviorally flexible dog isn’t as emotionally charged. His behavior is more intentional. The response to environmental change, though still challenging, is hinged on calmer more deliberate behavior choices. Think: go with the flow.

Stella sleeping peacefully on one of our long road trips.

Many folks assume some dogs are just calmer than others. But, the truth is we can teach behavioral flexibility. We have to be thoughtful about it, yes. Is it difficult? No.

Teach your dog that his choices matter. It is up to us to provide our dogs with meaningful feedback when they make behavior decisions. There are no good or bad behaviors. That may be startling to read, I know. Think of it this way instead. Is my dog choosing an action that will be useful in his life with me or not? Is it a behavior I want to see more of or less of? If it’s useful and we want to see our dog do it more (maybe we even want it to become a habit), then we provide meaningful positive reinforcement for that behavior. Food is always a strong choice. 

This is on us. We need to be feedback machines. We are warm and loving, certainly. And, we are providers of constant and reliable information for our dogs. Good, here’s a piece of cheese. Yes, let’s play. More of that, here’s your chew toy. Perfect, let’s go on a walk. Well done, have this bit of chicken. Fantastic, have another. Our dogs will learn quickly that interaction with us (or humans in general) is meaningful and that their behavior choices matter. It’s a conversation across species rooted in trust.

Stewie deciding whether or not he wants to pee in the snow from the big freeze February 2021

Allow your dog to say no. This is heresy to old school dog trainers, but it’s essential to us now. Forcing or coercing a dog into a behavior choice is really no choice at all. Worse still, punishment stiffens flexibility and kills trust. It leads to escape and avoidance which are very limiting choices. Dogs who are allowed to say no are, in fact, still learning that their choices have meaning. In most cases (dare I say all cases), the “no” is really just a pause. Our dog is trying to figure out what we are teaching him. He’s looking for the “yes.” It’s an opportunity for us to make the lesson a bit clearer, to make it a bit easier for our dog to take the next step, to keep the conversation going.

Stella high up on the red rocks in Sedona, AZ

Teach your dog he is safe. Giving your dog agency in his world – allowing him to make adaptive choices and allowing him to pause and consider those choices – leads back to this one fundamental lesson. He is safe. Working cooperatively with you is safe. Humans are safe. Taking on a new task, whatever it may be, is safe. Novel experiences – safe. New settings – safe. At the core of all of this is a sense of ease and security because we’ve encouraged our dog’s thinking – his choices – and we’ve supported him along the way with positive reinforcement feedback.

Behavioral flexibility is what allows our dogs to take on novel experiences bravely, try things they’ve never tried before, conquer new challenges. Our dogs don’t just learn to do things. They learn how to learn, how to temper and alter their behavior as the environment changes. At age 11 my dog, Stella, learned to climb steps into our bed – and then to climb red rocks high above Sedona. Stewie learned to pee outside at age 2 when we found him, and then how to pee on cue in a hurricane at age 10. When we broke down on the highway they both learned how to ride in a cramped tow truck, because we do new things all the time. They meet dogs sometimes and ignore them other times. Horses and chickens were a curiosity at first, but Stella and Stewie have learned to just take in novel experiences without a fuss. They visit hotels and relatives’ homes – and sleep on beds and dog beds and tile floors and on mats. It’s not always easy, but we take our time when they need an extra few moments to let things soak in. 

Life isn’t always chaotic, but it is always changing. Behavioral flexibility, prepares our dogs (and us) when chaos hits – when a flood means leaving home in a boat (or in a helicopter), when humans have to leave or are gone longer than expected, when the ice comes and the house gets dark and cold, when we move to a new home or city or country, when a loved one dies. The more we and our dogs can learn to lean into change, to change with our environment, embrace adaptive behavior over impulsive or reactive behavior – the better off we will be. Teaching our dogs behavioral flexibility is a gift to them and ourselves. 

In puppyhood we call this process socialization. There’s a myth that puppy socialization is just letting our puppies play and run amok with each other. But, that’s not it at all. Socialization is about partnering with our dog to take on the world together, to learn new things, to discover new boundaries and take them on (or not), to find safety with each other and in each other every step of the way. It’s a lifelong process. I’d go so far as to say it is what life with our dogs is all about.

So, if we didn’t have our dog as a puppy then when should we start? Now. Right now. Begin with the dog in front of you in the moment at hand. Start easy. Take it easy. Build from where you are together. Challenge yourself to be behaviorally flexible as you guide your dog to behavior flexibly. Notice the conversations you are having with him. Let your actions be a response to his and his to yours. Now you’re talkin’. Worry less about whether or not you can trust your dog. Offer the assurance that he, in fact, can trust you – today and from now on.

Above: Stella and Stewie showing off their behavioral flexibility going outside to potty during Hurricane Harvey.

Michael Baugh CDBC CPDT-KSA is a dog trainer in Houston, TX. He specializes in helping families with dogs with fearful and aggressive behavior.

 

How Balanced Dog Training Fails

Michael Baugh CDBC CPDT-KSA

Balanced trainers pride themselves on using a mix of positive reinforcement dog training and, when needed, punishment. They might use food and praise or even clicker training. They might also use choke collars, prong collars, or even shock collars. At first glance it sounds pretty good. Let’s use all the tools and techniques available to us. And if the dog does well with positive reinforcement we don’t have to resort to the nasty stuff. Fair enough. Right?

Honestly, I can see the appeal. But I see the trap doors and trip wires, too.

The truth is all dogs do well with positive reinforcement training. We know this because it’s the natural way all organisms learn. No one invented this. We discovered it. It’s a law of nature like gravity. You don’t have to believe in gravity. It just is. You don’t have to believe in positive reinforcement either. It simply is and it doesn’t fail (just like nothing ever falls up). Balanced trainers rest on some binary thinking that seems intuitive. If the dog fails, then we resort to pain or intimidation (the euphamism they often use is “pressure.”) But, here’s the flaw in their logic.  Our dogs don’t fail. Nature has already hard-wired them to learn this way. So, where’s the failure? Why do we so easily reach for the leash correction or the shock collar?

Here’s what I’ve learned. Positive reinforcement is easy for our dogs. It’s hard for us. Don’t misunderstand. The ideas are straightforward and clear. And even the mechanics of doing positive reinforcement dog training are fairly easy. Some of us just have a hard time wrapping our brains around it. We humans are bombarded with punishment and the threat of punishment all day everyday. I can understand how we could see punishment-based dog training as a viable option (or perhaps the only option). Even dog trainers dedicated to teaching with positive reinforcement struggle. We learn and re-learn year-after-year. We need reminding because positive reinforcement doesn’t come naturally to some of us. We know it works. Yes. We can see it working, of course. And yet, we remain blind. A balanced trainer is simply this: a positive reinforcement trainer who lost sight.

Positive reinforcement training teaches our dogs what to do. It’s proactive. Come. Sit. Lie down. Stay. Punishment is reactive. And here’s how else balanced dog training fails. Punishment doesn’t really teach our dog what we think it does. It doesn’t teach him what not-to-do. When the scale tumbles toward using pain and intimidation in training we are tumbling with it into some treacherous territory. Here’s what we’ve learned over the past century about what punishment really teaches.

Escape. We and our dogs retreat from things that are painful or scary. This is as natural as positive reinforcement, but it’s much less precise. A dog escaping a shock by running back to his human can masquerade as good training. But, we are teaching the dog more about what he’s running from than what he’s running to. Don’t count on any lasting dog-human bonding here. There’s also the very real danger of the punishment getting hitched up with other triggers in the environment. Think of ripples in a pond. The shock is scary. Run. But what else is associated with the shock? A bird? A cracking twig? That guy over there? Lot’s of things can start to spook our dog now. Anything can predict a shock and lead to a terrified bolting dog.  Plus, we are sliding dangerously close to Escape’s more troubling cousin.

Avoidance. Sometimes we just shut down. We’re done. I’ve met dogs trained on shock collar fence systems who won’t leave their back porch. I’ve met dogs for whom walks are so punishing they are afraid to go out at all. I’ve met dogs who hide and cower and won’t do anything. Of course, this common effect of punishment doesn’t look like training at all. The dogs get slapped with labels like “stubborn” or even “dominant” when in fact they are just terrified of what could be. It’s sad but not as dangerous as what could come next.

Counter Coercion. That’s the technical term for pushing back. We do it. Some dogs do it. There are plenty of studies now that link painful training with owner-directed aggression. I suspect that the ripple effect of punishment is what leads to dogs lashing out at less culpable targets as well. Violence begets violence. It’s a mnemonic we know well but too often forget when we think of our dogs. And too many dogs end up paying for our forgetfulness with their lives.

I sometimes wonder what life would be like if we constantly supported and encouraged each other’s best behavior choices. And then in the next thought, what if we could start doing that even just a little. What if, instead of crashing into a punishing day, we tilted into the nature of our better angels. What if we could tip the scale all the way to a lighter, more joyful, more natural kind of being – with our dogs and with each other?  What if our lives, in this one beautiful way, were delightfully out of balance?

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Houston TX. He specializes in fearful and aggressive dog training.