dog training houston katy tx Archives | Page 12 of 17

Swim Stella, Swim!

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

“This dog can’t swim.” That’s what I thought as I watched her struggle, bob and tip in the pond. I was about to jump in the murky water myself when I saw Stella briefly roll onto her back and then right herself. She stepped gleefully to the shore, shook off, dropped her ball, and looked up at me. She had no idea how pathetic she had looked.

Of course, I was concerned. Stella had swum before, albeit briefly. But, this last time was different. Physics failed her. She listed to one side, nearly sank, and then went keel up. She was wholly out of her element, and I’d so wished her element was water. I wanted it badly; I wanted it with every memory of the retriever before her, with every hope of the retriever I dreamt she would become. That was the problem. This wasn’t about me. It was about Stella; and Stella couldn’t swim.

I tried to get my brain around it. Maybe it really was bad physics. Stella’s chest is unusually deep and her waist is unusually small. She’s narrow, very narrow. She’s tall and long, unnaturally so. Her face and coat say retriever, but the rest of her says whippet or Italian greyhound. Okay if I’m going to be brutally honest, if you catch her at the wrong angle the whole package screams “cartoon dog.” Maybe her body just wasn’t built for water; maybe she was too lean, too spindly. Maybe she just couldn’t swim.

When my heart’s breaking, I write. So, I wrote some veterinarian friends of mine. No, they said. There’s nothing wrong with Stella. She is quirky beautiful and fully buoyant. I wrote to a local dog swim coach (who knew?) and she said the same thing. Some dogs are naturals, others are not. Stella can learn. She can swim.

I can’t explain what happened next. Sometimes there’s no way to fix a thing set askew. Then again, sometimes there’s no holding back a thing intent on setting itself right. Stella’s new coach is an affable woman in the middle of life, with an easy smile and a gentle feel for a dog’s spirit. She welcomed us to a long glistening pool in the early light of day. “Does Stella like toys?” she asked. “Tennis balls” I answered. The rest was unstoppable. It was the simple magic of letting things happen, letting go, swimming with the current of the moment.

Stella waded into the pool for her ball, and brought it back. On the second throw, she leapt across the shallow slope into the deep. Stella’s head slipped under and then popped up high in the water, a bow splashing and awkward, and a stern dragging too low. Her coach moved with deft purpose, the subtle speed of a woman who knows her craft. She righted Stella’s hips, bringing them level to withers just below the water’s crest. Stella sailed with ease back to the shallows and out. She dropped the ball and looked back at what she’d swum.

222531_224371824265357_107851415917399_539116_2541228_n — courtesy: Rummy's Beach Club

I threw again. Again she leapt and swam. Again, and again Stella’s body stretched, and her head skimmed the break where water meets air. Her legs tucked naturally, fronts propelling, backs adjusting for balance. She used her thick retriever tail like a rudder. Stella leapt and swam. She moved with ease and grace, ball firmly in mouth, eyes gleaming in the morning sun, nowhere to be but here, nothing in mind but now. Stella leapt again and then swam some more. She panted and pushed hard against the water, a wake behind her. The air was sweet with the smell of wet dog and abandon. I moved up beside her and kissed her cheek. I would have loved her the same no matter, but oh how I love my water dog.

We stayed on like that until we were both soaked through, swimming together.

Stella at Two

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

There was a night I feared she would not survive. She was twitching incessantly and crying inconsolably. We knew her disease was often fatal, but she had to survive. We’d only had her a few weeks, but already she was ours.

Something magical happens when a dog turns two, especially a retriever. She is young but no longer a puppy. She is socially mature but not yet old. The bonds she forged in the months prior become solid. All that she’s been taught, including the ability to learn, takes hold. And, she takes on the quiet wisdom that is the signature of her kind, the very best of her kind. She comes into her own.

Our dear Stellla is imperfect and quirky, undoubtedly. She stands nearly as tall as she is long. That counts for something because her height and length are each considerable in measure. She is equally lithe and narrow. She is a leggy strawberry blond. Add to that her twitch, constant and rhythmic, as if she were keeping time to a song no one else can hear. Stella is, well, odd and cartoonish and beautiful.

To be certain she is not a classic beauty like the Goldens and Labs in her genetic buffet. Hers is the beauty of movement, grace at an open run, the leap and grasp at a thrown ball, the dance of play with her own kind, strength and inhibition in equal measure. Stella is the gangly egret at rest, arresting beauty in flight, the gasp and the awe. Even when resting she is never still. Only her eyes hold fast, a lasting gaze with a subtle wink just before they close and carry her away to sleep.

Something magical happens when a dog turns two, especially Stella. She is breathtaking in the way so many normal dogs are. This is, with certainty, because of who she is. She is a dog, imperfect and beautiful and that’s enough. But, she is so much more. She is ours. We plucked her from death in a cage at a shelter and claimed her. She peed at our feet and shat and barked and we loved her just the same. She twitched in my arms and cried late into the night, fighting a virus none of us could see. I cried with her and loved her imperfectly. We were reflections of each other, the best of all that is dog and all that is human, goodness from each in equal measure.

Stella turned two today, our magical dog. Tonight she will rest by my side. I’ll watch her ear twitch as she falls into a deep refreshing sleep. She never stops moving, not ever.

The Truth About Canine Aggression

Michael Baugh KPA-CTP CPDT-KSA CDBC

“Your dog isn’t dominant; he’s frightened.” I say that to clients who have dogs with aggressive behavior more often than you might think. People are surprised, and many are relieved. The dog isn’t being mean to take control. He’s just trying to make something frightening go away or stop.

Understanding that leads to a fundamental shift in how we approach dogs who are behaving offensively. If a dog is afraid, it doesn’t help to assert our own authority (often with some aggressive behavior of our own). It helps much more when we teach the dog how to behave calmly under pressure. Better yet, let’s teach our dog that the thing he’s afraid of isn’t so scary after all. Now, there’s the challenge.

I see a lot of dogs who are afraid of people they don’t know, men in particular. Sometimes this fear is a result of trauma or abuse. More often, there was a lack of socialization with people in the dog’s early development. Whatever the cause, dogs will try to create distance between themselves and the thing they perceive as frightening. Some dogs increase that distance by running away or hiding. Others, the ones we call “aggressive,” try to increase distance by making the scary thing go away. They bark, growl, snarl and lunge. Some bite. Regardless, the goal is the same: Make the scary thing stop. (A person reaching for a dog will pull back when a dog growls). Or, make the scary thing leave (dog growls – person retreats – dog is relieved).

In most cases, like the example above, dogs who are behaving aggressively are trying to avoid something. Specifically they are avoiding close contact or interaction with something that scares them. Cases in which the dogs are aggressive to attain something are rarer. Most of those situations involve predatory behavior, in which a dog is chasing an animal or a person who is running away. Dogs who guard their food bowls and toys are somewhere in the middle. They are trying to keep a resource. Though some would say they are afraid of losing that resource, which brings us back to fear.

In the end, teaching your dog that the world is a safe place is your responsibility. So is training your dog to behave attentively and calmly in the presence of frightening things. Calm resolve and a focus on upbeat reward-based training is the key to success. Of course, there is help available. And, finding the right kind of help is absolutely essential.

Dog Behaviorists and Dog Behavior Consultants are qualified to assist people with dogs who exhibit aggression. The person you choose should be very familiar with applied behavior analysis and desensitization / counter conditioning techniques. Avoid trainers who use force to suppress behavior, or who insist you assert yourself as your dog’s “alpha.” That could just lead to more fear and unwanted behavior. Remember, he’s not trying to take over. He just wants to feel safe, and to know that you’re there to help show him the way.

Houston Dog Trainer Michael Baugh CPDT-KSA, CDBC specializes in cases of canine fear and aggression.