Real Dog Training is Cool

photo courtesy: Robyn Arouty Photography

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

Real Dog Training is cool.  Don’t get me wrong, some TV trainers are okay.  Victoria Stillwell was a real reward-based trainer before she got her own show, and that convertible of hers is pretty darn cool.  Rollerblading with bunch of dogs might be cool to some, but it’s not really my thing.  Pffsst!  Yeah, that’s not cool.

This is.  Today I made friends with a Shih Tzu who really didn’t like me at first (I’m pretty sure he wanted to bite me).  A few hours later I helped a woman potty train her beagle puppy.  That’s real dog training.  It’s not broken up into short segments between commercial breaks and problems aren’t resolved in an hour or less.  There are no short cuts with behavior; it takes time.  Real trainers do a lot of coaching, a whole lot of demonstrating and even more cheerleading.  We take care of our human and dog clients by making the process as clear and simple as possible.  We show people the magic of dogs without messing it all up with a bunch of mystical mumbo jumbo of our own.  Hello!  Cool.  Whispering?  That just makes it harder for people to hear you.

The truth is there isn’t much new in dog training.  Whoa, blasphemy.  What about clicker training (not terribly new) and all the new research coming out about dogs?  Okay, we are getting better every day at refining and applying behavioral science with dogs, but the basics remain the same.  I helped the Shi Tzu warm up to me with good old fashioned classical conditioning.  As for the beagle bathroom breaks, enter Dr. Skinner.  This stuff is old-school, well practiced, and thoroughly researched.  Real trainers teach it with vigor and style, yes.  But we don’t have to dress it up to make it cool.  It just is cool.

So why are so many trainers trying so hard to be the next latest and greatest thing?  I recently read about a new age celebrity trainer in Hollywood.  Her web site was chakra rocking and chi wheeling.  Her uber cool movie star clients apparently loved her.  But I had to wonder, with all this spirit, where the substance was.  She was beautiful; and she sold the enigmatic charm of dogs oh so well.  But could she really teach and train?  Scan the internet (okay maybe you shouldn’t) and look at all the trademarked methods for dog training.  They’re making things up and busting other stuff left and right.  Instant results and guarantees are in vogue, while the “how to” is a bit vague.  Sure the “Baugh Method” would boost my ego.  But seriously, it’s just silly (the abbreviation is awkward, too).    What’s wrong with the Pavlov method, or the Skinner Method, even the Breland and Bailey method?  Maybe it just doesn’t sound cool.  I don’t know.

I guess it’s all just a matter of perception.  If you’re a behavior geek who knows the difference between ABA and ABBA (and perhaps appreciates both) it boils down to this.  You’re still a geek.  On the other hand, if you are attractive and skate well you get your own “way.”  Maybe you can tap into our human need for mysticism and talk about flow and energy.  That’s the stuff.  Then, you’ll have that certain something that all the popular kids in high school had.  No one could define it, but it didn’t matter.  They were cool.

I keep thinking of Alex.  He was a 7 month old lab mix and a hard-core play biter.  I use the term loosely.  He wasn’t playing, he was demanding attention.  Chomp – Ouch!  It hurt something fierce.  The night I met him I laid out a training plan and left bleeding.  I hoped against my angst that his family would follow through and follow up.  If they didn’t, Alex was on fast track to disaster.  There was no glamor that night, no cameras and no quick fixes.  I was tired from a long day and I smelled bad.  I called a trainer friend while I tried to hold back my own doubts.  “I just stuck to the basics.” I said, “It has to work right?” He’s a cool guy.  He assured me it would.

Alex’s family applied The Skinner just as I’d shown them.  They were precise and tireless.  They charted Alex’s time-outs (negative punishment) and watch them decline steeply.  They taught Alex some amazing good manners (positive reinforcement) with skill and masterful timing. The punctures and scratches and bruises faded as their success grew.  They called almost daily with reports.  We kept things on course, and when it was time we celebrated.  I beamed with pride and told them they were my heroes, because they are.

Sometimes clients (or potential clients) ask me if I’m like “The Dog Whisperer.”  They want to know about becoming their dog’s Alpha and earning his respect.  Some ask if I use this method or that, if I can break this or that.  I guess it’s the litmus test of coolness.  I do my thing, just a regular reward trainer trying to keep it real.  Sure, it gets tough sometimes.  There are a lot of other trainers who are much slicker.  I get it.  Then I think of Alex and his family, happy and hanging out watching TV.  They’re just regular folks and he’s just a normal relaxed dog.  They worked the process and the process worked for them.

Okay, yeah.  That’s way cool.


On Leadership and Training

Photo Courtesy Robyn Arouty Photography

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

I was looking at my dog, Stella, this morning and wondering to myself, does she really want me to be her leader? It was obvious by the look on her face that she was definitely interested in my poached egg.  She was sitting obediently across the room, wagging fiercely and staring adoringly.  Egg?  Absolutely.  Leader?  I don’t know.

A lot of trainers, even some respected reward-based trainers, are still big on the idea of establishing yourself as a pack leader and garnering your dog’s respect.  You have to admit, that’s a pretty heavy burden for a lot of people.

( Read More from my guest blog entry on www.allthingsdogblog.com)

Nama-Stay

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

The first time I really communicated with my dog was when she was 12 weeks old. We were learning “stay.” I was standing about 20 feet away. She was sitting facing me. Our eyes were locked. I sighed. Then she sighed. There was no doubt in my mind that she wasn’t going to move until I said so.

This wasn’t some psychic connection. Though, it was really cool. She’d learned pretty quickly that good stuff happened if she stayed put. I’d praise her; slip her a treat; smile. And when the exercise was over we’d play a little. It was all good stuff. The key was starting easy and building up. We’d do short stays at first. Little by little we’d add distance, duration or distractions (The 3 D’s). When she messed up (or I messed up), we’d start over and do it again.

My training method is very old-school Learning Theory. B.F. Skinner developed it in the early 20th century and it’s worked like a charm ever since. Most sea mammal trainers use Learning Theory. And a lot of human behavior therapy has its roots in Learning Theory. The idea is simple: behavior with a favorable consequence is increased. Behavior with a unfavorable consequence is decreased. In a short time the environment or a person can trigger a behavior even when the consequence is absent.

There are tons of examples in our human lives. But let’s stick with dogs. My dog used to get treats and lots of fan fare for staying. Now, all I have to do is say “stay” and she just does it. In her case “stay” is a conditioned behavior. And interestingly enough, the science of behavior conditioning works with all animals. When I was a kid I had tropical fish in an aquarium. Every time I opened the lid of the aquarium they all swam to the top. Day after day that behavior (swimming to the top) had a positive consequence (feeding). But very quickly the conditioned behavior got locked in. They swam to the top every time I opened the lid regardless of whether or not I had food.

Now, of course, all the rage on TV is communicating with your dog like a dog. I guess the idea is to influence your dog’s behavior by imitating the mother dog or the pack leader. Usually this boils down to inflicting some type of punishment on or around the dog’s neck. Some trainers grab the dog by the scruff of the neck and shake. But it’s more common that they put a collar on the dog that temporarily chokes him. There are also lots of rules about passing through doorways, sleeping locations and who eats what and when. Everything will be okay they say if you dog perceive you as leader.

But, there’s a problem. Most domestic dogs don’t learn how to live with human beings from other dogs. They learn it from… well… human beings. And, they’re very good at it. It’s no wonder really, dogs have co-evolved with us for thousands of years. A recent Harvard study drives the point home. Researchers wanted to know which animal could best read human behavior cues: a chimpanzee, a tame wolf or a dog. Genetically speaking, chimpanzees are our closest animal cousin and actually share some of our non-verbal behavior traits. Wolves have brains significantly bigger than a dog’s. But it was the domestic dog (canis lupus familiaris) would could read our behavior cues the best (Hare, 2003). Of course! They know us the best.

So, what about being the pack leader? I tend not to worry about that too much. There is actually a great deal of evidence that suggests dogs don’t form packs in quite the same way wolves and other canids do. Most domestic breeds, for example, won’t hunt and kill for food (much less in an organized pack). Dogs, many of whom come into heat more than once a year, will breed indiscriminately (unlike wolves who maintain a breeding pair). And even biologists who specialize in wolves have a hard time discerning a true pack leader in a group of domestic dogs. Researchers tracked a group of strays in Brazil for more than a year. They observed them scavenging for food (never hunting); they saw them wandering and breeding freely; but they never identified an alpha male or female (Coppinger and Coppinger, 2001)

It is true that some dogs are more timid than others. And some will appear to be stronger and more assertive than others. And, yes, dogs do bite the scruffs of each other’s necks. They also growl and hump and posture. They even communicate with facial expressions. But don’t forget what the Harvard dogs taught us. They understand us perhaps even better than we understand them. They learn our cues, both verbal and nonverbal, even better than chimps. And it doesn’t take them long.

My dog was only 12 weeks old when I first saw that. We were locked in a stay. Both of us were relaxed. And the message was clear. “We’re communicating.” I was learning how to train her. She was learning how to read my cues. And, sure enough, it was working.

Juno late in life still holding a perfect “stay”

That was the beginning. Over the past 11 years my dog has traveled the U.S. learning and helping others learn. She’s worked as a therapy dog in nursing homes and a demonstration dog at training events. She’s even starred in a play. She’s not a puppy anymore. Her body is a little stiffer and her face has gone white with age. But I’ll never forget that day we first connected. I wish she could stay forever.

 

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Houston, TX.  His beloved dog, Juno, died in October 2009 at age 11 1/2.