agggressive behavior in dogs Archives | Page 10 of 14

Is Love Enough?

For those of us who know dogs, really know them, the love comes easily. And for those involved in the hard and difficult work of rescue and sheltering, there is no shortage of love. It’s what fuels us, what keeps us going day after day. It’s what sees us through the anguish and the tears to get out once again and rescue and shelter some more. Love is the thing. But is it enough?

Psychiatrist Aaron Beck was writing about human relationships when he jumped to the answer. His book from the late 80’s was called Love is Never Enough. His idea was for people, especially couples, to use the tools of cognitive therapy to improve their lives together. Listen. Separate out feelings (at least don’t jump to feelings first). Be mindful. Love was not enough. It never was. We had to think as well.

What would Aaron Beck say about those of us who rescue and shelter dogs? Do we love too much? Does our love ricochet us into darker emotions, sadness, anger, hate, and despair? Does it paralyze us; keep us from acting at all because the problem of abandoned and suffering dogs is just too big? That was my story up until recently. Is love not only “never enough,” but is it also sometimes what gets in the way of doing the work? I won’t speculate on what Dr. Beck would say.

Here is what we do know, the sad facts:

Too many dogs are abandoned or born into homelessness. In Houston the numbers are huge.
These dogs suffer from health issues ranging from mange to broken bodies to heartworms. Most rescue groups raise funds for the proper medical treatment for all of the animals in their care.
Nearly every one of these dogs also suffers from behavior problems ranging from poor manners to extreme fear of humans to aggression toward humans or other dogs. Very few rescue groups provide professionally structured behavior care for any of their animals.

That last point interests me the most. Here’s why. 89.7% of dogs end up in shelters in the first place because of behavior problems (Wells and Hepper 2000). My colleague, Carolyn Grob, presented this bit of data and more at a recent Project Rusty Seminar in Houston (more about Project Rusty in a moment). So, we know going into this that at least 89% of dogs in rescue and shelters are there because of behavior problems. We know it like we know they have mange or a broken leg or heartworms.

Connecting the dots is pretty easy. If we help the dogs in our care learn better behavior, we increase the chance that their adoption will be successful and lasting. We justify the time and expense involved the same way we justify medical treatment. Adopters don’t want a mangy dog. Guess what? They don’t want a rude freaked out dog either.

So, let’s get back to the love. Won’t love and a little time heal most behavior issues, like fear and aggression? The short answer is no. In fact, with many dogs the problems just get worse. Can’t a dog learn to trust humans again? Yes, of course. But love and time are not enough, not really, not ever. And let’s not even talk about the jumping and leash pulling and other crazy hyper goofy behavior. Add some well-intentioned love and that unruliness can turn into downright rude-dog stuff. But, I digress.

What would Beck say? I’m not sure, but I have an idea. What if we step back from a moment and give this behavior thing some thought? We won’t stop loving. We’ll just starting thinking a bit. Let’s be mindful about training and behavior. There’s a process to treating medical issues right? There has to be a process for helping dogs act better and feel better around their new humans. (Of course there is, said the trainer).

In fact, there’s a time-honored and well-tested process for teaching animals how to act and feel better. It boils down to showing the dogs in our care that their behavior (their actions) matter. Good things happen when they behave a certain way (the way we like). Nothing much good happens when they don’t. Because we’re using rewards (reinforcement) like food and play, we’re also teaching the dogs that we humans are safe, nice in fact. We won’t get bogged down in the technical terms like Learning Theory and Classical Conditioning. We can just think of it like this. We teach the dogs what works for them in our crazy human world – and at the same time we teach them that we’re not all that crazy after all. Humans are pretty darn good it turns out.

The process is not hard. It can be fun once we get the hang of it. But, it’s not magic either. We have to show up, and we have to put in some effort. Get the dog out of the crate, into a space where we can interact with him one-on-one, and let’s start training. It’s like taking the dog to the vet for medical care, equally important, but with less hassle. Forget Aaron Beck for a moment. Here’s what trainer educator Ken Ramirez from The Shed Aquarium says: Training isn’t a luxury. It’s an essential part of daily animal care.

“Wait a minute”, you might say, “I’m not a trainer.” Well, that’s where Project Rusty comes in. That’s the group I mentioned a little bit ago. Project Rusty is a nonprofit organization in Houston with a mission to teach shelter staff and rescue volunteers how to be trainers. The truth is, you are already teaching the dogs in your care every day. Every waking minute they are learning, not just from you but also from your family, the cat, the bird, and of course from the other dogs in your home. The question isn’t whether or not they’re being trained (they are). The question is are they learning the stuff we want them to learn. Probably not.

Let’s change that. In the months and years ahead Project Rusty will be rolling out programs to help shelters and rescue groups better care for the behavioral health of their dogs. We’ve actually already started with interactive seminars. The next step will be more intensive learning programs for rescue groups, some of which are already in development. There will also be online resources for staff, volunteers and the general public. If behavior is the problem, then we will be the solution. All of us. Together.

So where’s the love? I can only speak for myself on this one. I love my dogs. I love some of my client’s dogs too, and most came from shelters and rescue groups. I write about love and compassion and hope and all the soft stuff. I’m that guy. Is love enough? Maybe not. But, maybe that’s also not the right question. Maybe the question is how do we love these dogs? What is the thing? What is the stuff of love? For me it’s the moment I look at a dog and understand and know in my heart and in my brain that she understands too. It’s communication, clichéd as that sounds. It’s learning and teaching and blurring the lines between the two. Who’s training whom?

Love is a verb.

When I’m training with my dog I am loving my dog. It’s in my actions, and hers too I think. Teaching is loving. Learning and teaching more is loving more. And, if that’s so then loving is the thing, loving thoughtfully with our actions. It’s what we do, mindfully and wholeheartedly? Can we ever really get enough?

Michael will be leading an interactive presentation about this topic on May 4th in Houston. Visit his Houston Dog Training Events page for more information.

Touch Me Not

Michael Baugh CPDT-KSA, CDBC

It’s one of the most uncomfortable things for us trainers to say to a client. I am always looking for the kindest and most tactful way to say it. “I don’t think your dog really enjoys being patted on the head like that.” It’s tough because the thing is, we humans love to pat and pet and paw on our dogs.

Ethologist and Author Patricia McConnell PhD was one of the first to shine the light on this basic disconnect between humans and dogs. We humans are primates. Our social interactions are played out primarily with our arms and hands. Dogs are canines and they are notably lacking arms and hands. Their social interactions are played out with their whole bodies, but primarily with their mouths. So, it’s no surprise then to find new puppy owners bloodied on their limbs and digits baffled over why their young bundles of teeth keep biting them. It’s also no surprise to see a dog duck away when their person reaches out to pat their head.

Here’s the rub (literally and figuratively). Even when we know better, we humans keep on keeping on. We don’t get it, even when we get it. Case in point: that picture of me and Stella over there. My face says, I love this dog. Her face says, I don’t care just get me out of here. I knew better but I just couldn’t stop myself. Facebook and Google are littered with videos and pictures like this one, and worse. People hugging dogs who clearly are uncomfortable. Children draped over dogs who are at best tolerating the interaction. We can’t help ourselves. Almost daily we’re highlighting the difference between our species, photographing it, and publishing it for the world to see.

Sometimes I chuckle at myself when I forget and reach for Stella’s head for a nice pat. She, of course, ducks away and I apologize. The laugh is on me. I knew better and couldn’t help myself. Dogs tend to not like hands reaching for them; especially hands belonging to someone they don’t know too well. Some dogs are more sensitive than others (Stella knows me well and still doesn’t care for that kind of greeting). We forget because quite often we greet each other, including strangers, with an extended hand. We call it shaking hands. If we know each other even a little bit better, or if we’re in Europe, we might hug. Hugs to dogs are very alien and offensive. Dogs who drape their heads over another dog’s withers (shoulder area) often get in fights. So do dogs who full-on mount another dog (sort of like hugging).

People who reach for the wrong dog get bitten too. Sometimes the results are serious. Children, unfortunately get bitten most frequently. They’re the ones most likely to hug or even try to ride a dog. It pains me to know some parents don’t know better and actually encourage this. They grab the camera and log on to Facebook. I cringe. At least one dog related fatality this year involved a baby pulling himself up on a dog. Those cases are rare and extreme. It’s easy to blame the dog or the parents. The truth though is that we all need to learn better ways to interact with dogs; we trainers especially need to take the lead on this – teach – learn – teach again. No one who loves their child and loves their dog wants things to go badly. But it happens.

This doesn’t mean dogs don’t like to be touched. Most do. When I’m thinking correctly, I let dogs approach me first. If the dog appears fearful, I’ll turn sideways to the dog, and I might bend at the knees to get down to his level. I don’t reach into the dog’s space or make direct eye contact, the way you might do when you’re greeting a person at a business meeting. If the dog approaches, I pet him on the chest or on the cheek by his ears. Watch to see how he reacts. If he backs away, I stop. Of course, the overwhelming majority of dogs will love this. Many will be exuberant and jump for joy (that’s another issue altogether). Children are always supervised. In Stella’s case, because she is particularly sensitive, interactions with kids are structured and brief.

Trainer educator Jean Donaldson got it right in The Culture Clash. We want our dogs to be like dogs the in the movies. She calls them Disney Dogs. They are cute and always nice, with human sensibilities and manners. That, of course, is a myth. Dogs have their own ways, their own sensibilities, and they are nonetheless still cute and nice. I think they are more so. Nearly perfect in fact. I should remember that when I see a dear client looming over her dog and reaching out. “Your dog is wonderful, and so are you. Let me show you how he likes to greet people. He’s so cute.

“Wait, I’ll get the camera.”

A Tad Improved

Micahel Baugh CPDT-KSA, CDBC

Change is sometimes subtle, even imperceptible. There was a time when Tad was labeled “aggressive,” barking, and lunging at people he didn’t know. Tad had bitten, for humans the worst offense a dog can commit. Hope ran thin for Tad. The idea that he’d ever be a “typical dog” seemed a far way off. Change, it seemed, would have to be dramatic.

Tiffany had found Tad in an awful state. He’d been dumped on the side of a country road to wither and die. Tad had done the former and was well on his way to the latter when Tiffany scooped him up and took him home. He gained weight and healed well. Then the trouble started.

Tiffany called Tad’s behavior “going ape shit.” She works at a vet clinic and Tad had been going with her every day. Whenever Tad saw a new person (mostly clients) he would “go ape shit.” I wondered exactly what Tiffany meant, so I asked. She sent me video. There was Tad, behind a baby gate barking and jumping and lunging toward someone just off camera. I’m not one for labels; just tell me what the dog is doing. Still, Tiffany’s label was apt. She told me that Tad had bitten her father, and that she was worried Tad would bite again (he did). So, we set an appointment and a week later I drove nearly an hour to meet Tad.

384924_264857773574665_157397620987348_783988_704484650_n — Tad

I never saw Tad behave poorly other than in that video. If I do my job right with so-called aggression cases, I never see the behavior. That was how it went with Tad. We met at a friend’s training facility, then a few weeks later at the clinic, then a few more times after that. Tad and I became fast friends, and that’s certainly the way I like it. I like Tad. In another life he’s the dog I’d live with. That’s saying something. I don’t fall for all my clients the way I fell for Tad.

All the while, Tiffany and I stayed in close contact. It wasn’t always easy. I worried. I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about Tad. I texted and emailed Tiffany to make sure she was on track.

She and I butted heads once (my fault). I got frustrated and forgot my golden rule: the client is not my enemy. Tad had bitten a delivery man and I feared we’d lost our way altogether. On paper this was an easy case. When it started to play out, it wasn’t easy at all. That’s how it goes sometimes. It’s the way it went with Tad.

Assess the risk to the dog and to other dogs and humans. Lay out a good training plan. Communicate the plan well. Restate the plan often. Provide a safe and caring relationship for the client. Remember behavior is driven by the environment. Change the environment even a little and the behavior will change in turn. Those are the rules, except there’s one more. Believe. Follow the rules and believe. The rest will follow. That’s the way it went with Tad.

No one ever calls and says my dog is better. It doesn’t happen very often, anyway. Change is rarely dramatic. What happens instead is that as the dog improves his guardian relaxes and stops calling. That’s a tricky time for me as a teacher and a coach. How is Tad? Why isn’t she calling? Some clients get lax and fall back into a bad pattern of behavior with their dog. (Yes, that happened in this case). But, once real change starts to settle in the pattern of training and monitoring the dog’s behavior just becomes part of everyday life. Things get better and no one really pays any notice. Typical is boring, right? That’s what happened with Tad.

He goes to work with Tiffany still, but not with his housemate dogs. That one little change helped a great deal. Tad greets people well and shows just about everyone the real self he showed me. Tiffany remains vigilant, knowing that teaching her dog is a life-long proposition. Change came subtly. It was almost imperceptible, but change came.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen Tad. Tiffany and I have been talking for several weeks with nothing much to report. Tad is doing fine, no more incidents, making progress on his rowdy play, otherwise pretty boring. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn’t. I knew it was coming time to close the case, and tentatively put a check in the win column with Tad’s name on it. Tiffany and I discussed this, and agreed. My work is done for now.

I think of Tad and the road where Tiffany first found him. They’ve come so far from the suffering and the tears. Now, there are so many more roads yet to explorer. That’s the way it goes with people and their dogs. Another adventure into the unknown, except for the one thing they each know for sure. They’re in this together.