Archives for April 2019

Mealtime is a big deal in my house- especially breakfast.  Breakfast is when all the good stuff gets added to the base kibble.  The dogs, both mine and any staying with me, know this and really look forward to breakfast.  I used to be the dog mom who proudly said, “Oh, Peyton just eats what she wants, she never overeats!”  I did not understand then that I just had that rare unicorn of an awesome dog who accepted that I was the boss and did as I asked.  She’s the one who made me think I knew how to train dogs.  Ha! My silly mid-90’s self was such a fool.

Once Pony came into my life and I had to learn how to actually train a dog I came to understand the importance of mealtime.  It was actually during a visit to the Wolf Sanctuary in Lititz, PA that gave me my greatest a-ha moment. 

Side Note, if you’ve never been there, go!  It’s an incredible experience.  I went for a full moon tour.  Loved it!  https://wolfsanctuarypa.org/

In a wolf pack, when there is a fresh kill, the alpha wolf eats first.  He eats until he’s satiated and then the Beta eats and then so on and so forth.  What this means is that the wolf who gets to eat what he wants, when he wants, is in charge.  While I’m aware that dogs are not wolves, they are descendants and still follow the same social structure. 

But what does this have to do with your domesticated, household pet?   Whomever controls the food source is the alpha.  It’s just that simple.  If your dog gets to eat what he wants, when he wants then he is the alpha.  I control the food.  I feed them twice a day.  I am the alpha.   I don’t do so because I have some twisted control freak streak.  No, I do it because that is what they understand. 

If you really want to communicate with your dog you must learn to speak to them in the language they already know.  The language most easily understood by dogs is dog.  They can learn to understand English but they will never be fluent.  I make them understand that I am their alpha by employing the simplest method available and it makes it that much easier to train them.  When clients send their dogs to stay with me they fall into the same pattern. 

Often when I send a dog back home their parents are blown away by the change and progress they’ve made in only a short time.  When I explain the mealtime rules it’s not always met with enthusiasm.  It does take a bit more effort to establish and maintain mealtime instead of just allowing your dog to free eat.  Trust me, it’s worth it.  I also set the bar a tad higher by adding fresh food to my dog’s bowls but, again, it’s worth it.

At breakfast they get about a 1/3 cup of broccoli, carrots and cheese, 1/8 cup of dried cranberries, a fish oil pill, a little bit of wet food- just enough to mix it all together- and a hard-boiled egg.  They love it!  As soon as they see me getting the components out to put it together then run to their places.  Apollo, who has been with me for 8 days, has also begun to do the same.  The conditioning happens very quickly!  Breakfast is served and eaten very quickly.  I know immediately if someone is not feeling well if they turn their nose up at breakfast.  Dinner is not so exciting- just plain kibble and maybe a little leftover meat if I have it.  But it’s the same routine, they go to their place to be called because I control the food source. 

As for what you should put in your bowl please consult your veterinarian.  I’d be lost without Dana Walck of Harrisburg Area Animal Hospital.  At Villa Mia we are going to continue with what works and keep those pups healthy and happy.

Love and Belly Rubs, Zia

I like symmetry, I appreciate things in proportion, I believe in balance.  My approach to training a dog reflects these core beliefs.  To put it in the simplest terms I reward good choices and I correct poor choices.  I do this by praising and offering the occasional treat when a dog displays desirable behavior and by using corrective words and actions or an e-collar to stim when a dog displays undesirable behavior.  Choices.  Correction.  E-Collar.  Desirable.  Stim.  These are nice words.

I use a shock collar and I punish dogs when they’re bad.

There, I said it.  It’s true.  When dogs break the rules, disobey commands or put themselves and others in danger I punish that choice in the most immediate and clear way possible.  An electronic collar- or a shock collar, if you must- mimics the consequence that a dog might feel in a dog pack if he defies the alpha.  I do not believe I am a dog anymore than I believe my dogs are people.  I do believe that it is possible to communicate with dogs in a language they understand so that they can learn English and become able to not just live, but to thrive, in a human pack.  It would be so nice if dogs responded to the same psychological tactics that humans do but it would also be nice if it was sunny and 70° all day, every day.

Dogs are opportunists.  They will take advantage of a situation if they think they can get away with it.  Period.  That’s not really up for discussion because it’s a universal truth.  What makes a dog not eat the burger you left unattended?  That dog has learned that the consequence of such behavior is stronger than the appeal of it.  Some dogs learn this quickly and with minimal corrections.  Others need a little more talking-to.  As a general rule I like to give every dog the benefit of the doubt and begin with the least amount of correction as possible.  I much prefer to reward and encourage than to punish.  However, I’m not willing to help raise jerks who become dangerous so I’m quick to let them know when and why they’re not getting any praise.

I’ve written before of my dog, Pony.  He’s nearly perfect.  Not quite, he’s got a couple screws loose in very specific places, but overwhelmingly most of the time he’s perfect.  Until he’s not.  Pony and I were trained by a balanced trainer using a e-collar.  (Note: Pony never needed a prong collar but I’m not opposed to them.  Many dogs respond beautifully to prongs and I’m eager to use any tool that might help a dog live a peaceful life.)  Pony has a middle of the road “yelp” point which means that under most circumstances he would change his course of action and stop the behavior I did not want with a quick tap on the e-collar remote on a lower setting.

This low setting worked great until we were in playtime and he was being the Sherriff or when he saw my neighbor’s dog, Diesel.  At those times, when his perfection was completely abandoned in favor of being an asshole Nazi, no low-level stim, re-direction or bribe of a cookie matters.  Nope, the appeal of the behavior he wanted was far stronger than the consequence I was offering.  I could have simply avoided those situations and claimed that I “trained” him not to be bad anymore.  That would have been a lie.  That’s like not leaving anything on your counters so your dog doesn’t eat it.  Sure, the dog won’t eat things he’s not supposed to but have you trained the dog or did the dog train you?  Last time I checked, Pony is not paying the rent ‘round here so I’ll be doing the training, thank you very much.

After many attempts at kinder, gentler training techniques I had to admit to myself that Pony needed something drastic.  Even as I increased the consequence bit by bit at each infraction he was continuing to escalate.  It was as if he was considering the cost of his chosen misbehavior and then thinking, “I can afford that.”  However, I could no longer afford to allow it to continue.  I had to authorize nuclear force.  I consulted the board of directors, (me), sought spiritual council, (me), considered the lives of the entire household, (me, Gigi, Ruben), convened a committee, (me), chastised the former management, (me), and poured myself a glass of wine because what I was going to do the next day was going to hurt.  It was going to hurt him and that would hurt me but I knew I had tried everything else.  I could no longer face the woman in the mirror if I continued to allow this behavior.

The first time I deployed the nuke was during a play date with a couple of other pack members.  I was watching closely.  Three out of four of the dogs were being perfectly appropriate.  They had earned their freedom through good manners and were enjoying just being dogs, romping and play bowing and wrestling all over.  Pony was being the Sherriff, patrolling the perimeter and keeping an eye out for any tomfoolery.  I watched him closely.  He has a tell, a change in his body language that’s difficult to define but it always immediately precedes the moment when he’s going to grab the leg of a dog in the play group who he feels is misbehaving.  I’ve gotten good at hitting the button and avoiding the incident but he was still making the attempt.  That tells me that I had not trained the behavior out of him, he had trained me to be aware of it. 

So, there we are during playtime and I was ready.  He didn’t know it but I turned him up to nearly double his normal working level and I was prepared to offer an extended stim when I saw it.  It didn’t take long.  He’s nothing if not predictable.  When he changed from playmate to bully I pressed that button and held it down for three seconds.  They felt like an eternity.  He cried out, I began to cry, too.  I swallowed that lump in my throat and let the tears flow but I didn’t stop.  He left the play group and came to my side to lie down.

I felt broken.

I thought, “My God!  What if I’ve killed his spirit?  What if he will never be joyful again?  What if he won’t protect me from danger anymore?  What if he won’t love me or- worse yet- thinks I don’t love him?!”  I’ve got a lot going through my head at any given moment.  Those awful thoughts took over and I continued to cry for about a minute while the other dogs played, completely oblivious that anything had just happened.  Then I took a deep breath and looked down at him still laying at my feet.  “Okay, Pony, go play!” I said.

He did.

He jumped up and rejoined the game as if nothing had happened.  No day after, no nuclear holocaust, no residual resentment.  But something DID happen.  He played.  He didn’t sheriff.  He still patrolled and herded because he’s a shepherd but he didn’t try to correct anyone.  And I was watching him like a hawk!  I was scrutinizing every movement and twitch, every hair and happy bark, everything.  He simply played with the carefree abandon that every dog deserves.  He wasn’t shut down or depressed, he didn’t run away from me determined to escape the horrible abuse.  He played.  The other dogs, still clueless that anything had happened, played, too.  They carried on without incident for the next half-hour.

I wasn’t quick to think that he was cured.  The next day, another play group, I was hyper vigilant.  Nothing.  The next day?  Same.  It appeared that the consequence of attempting to discipline his playmates was now stronger than the appeal.  My God, it was working!  I was so encouraged by this that I contacted my neighbor and asked if we could set a trap for Pony when Diesel would be outside.  He agreed and I gave myself a pep talk to remember that the pain I was going to cause both of us was only a fraction of what we would feel if he attacked Diesel again and had to be put down.

I’d love to tell you that he saw Diesel and translated the play group lesson into his behavior when confronted with his arch-nemesis.  Perhaps if he was a person with the ability to use complex problem solving and higher-order thinking that may have been so.  Nope, he’s a dog and he hates that other dog so he did what dogs do when left unchecked and he freaked out at the front window.  I nuked him again.  We both cried again.  He stopped freaking out.  On the walk back home, I asked them to approach our door.  They did, he tried to attack the window, I nuked him and we cried more.  I asked them to knock on the door.  I steeled myself to deliver a third.  Pony looked out the window at Diesel and his dad and did nothing.  He stood there and looked at them.

The next day I geared him up in a muzzle, a tether to the pole in my carport, another leash in my had and we waited.  I was holding my breath.  Diesel and his dad walked by. 

Pony. Sat. Down.

Then, when I told him to do so, he lied down.  Diesel’s dad and I had a little chat, Diesel barked and danced on his leash- probably just as shocked as the humans that Pony was simply laying at my feet.  No reaction, no sound, no movement from Pony.  The consequence had become stronger than the appeal.

I was still not convinced, I knew that the muzzle was inherently calming and Pony was a smart dog.  He knew he was handicapped by it.  I wondered if he was doing nothing because he knew he couldn’t do anything.  With my neighbor’s permission, we agreed that I would remove the muzzle the next day but add a third collar and leash to see how he reacted.

It was hard to sleep that night knowing what was going to happen the next morning.  I didn’t want to hurt my dog and I knew that the harsh correction was painful.  I also knew that what he had done to Diesel was painful and so unfair.  I was prepared to do what I needed to do to remove the obsession from my dog and to keep other dogs safe.  My neighbor texted me the next morning to let me know they were going out.  I raced to get an unmuzzled Pony out and tethered to the pole with two more leashes in my left hand, the remote in my right turned way up high.

They were faster than me.  I didn’t get the chance to attach him to the pole before Diesel was walking past my house.  All we had was my strength- both physical and emotional.  Pony saw Diesel and sat down.  My neighbor’s and my jaws dropped.  I walked across the street with Pony, past Diesel, had a chat with his dad.  No reaction from Pony.  Once again, despite Diesel’s exuberance he chose to sit or lay down next to me.  I could hear him thinking, “Nope, just not worth it.”  I cannot express the joy and relief I feel.  They will never be friends, I will never allow them to be together unsupervised but I am feeling the weight of terror lifting.  Last night I took the dogs to the front yard for a potty break despite knowing that Diesel and his dad were home and could come out at any minute.  I was prepared, remote in my hand and turned up high.  I will never allow myself to become complacent.  Pony did not even look at their house.

As I sit in my living room typing this blog Diesel and his dad went out for their morning walk.  Pony looked up at the front window but then simply put his head back down.  It’s just not worth it anymore.

Love and Belly Rubs, Zia

I have a 6-year-old German Shepherd, Pony Boy. 99% of the time he is perfect. I mean seriously perfect. Obedient, friendly, smart, loving, alert. Perfect. He’s great with kids, willing to be petted by strangers, helps mentor and guide new dogs in the pack, respectful of property. He’s the best. But- and this is a big but- he’s got two nasty habits.

1. Thinking he’s actually a real cop he likes to “sheriff” during playtime offering corrections to dogs that don’t really need them. I envision him like the Jackie Gleason character from the Smokie and the Bandit films; he’s a bully in the name of security. I’ve gotten really good at watching his body language and I can tell when he’s about to turn from appropriate play to total jerk. I’ve managed this behavior by no longer enjoying watching the dogs at play and instead intensely focusing on Pony as he is patrolling. When I see him turn from happy-go-lucky, well-behaved leader of the pack to bully I give him a correction and call him out. He obeys. Problem solved, right? Wrong. I’m only managing the behavior, I’m not modifying it. So frustrating!
2. Nasty habit #2: His obsession with my neighbor’s dog, Diesel. Diesel is about 3-years-old, a Bull Mastiff/Boxer mix. He’s a big boy! He’s actually bigger than Pony and when he was a puppy they were good friends. Diesel joined us for walks, played with Pony in the front yard, attended Pony’s birthday party- yeah, I’m THAT mom… Sometime around a year-old, things changed. Diesel is neutered so that’s not it and he obeys his dad on the leash. He has a nasty habit of his own of peeing in our driveway but that’s not enough to warrant Pony’s obsession.

Looking back I should have seen it coming to the zenith that it reached in October 2017. During playtime with Diesel, Pony began his bully tactics and I called him off. I continued to be friendly with my neighbor and encourage them to socialize. I corrected Pony each time he bullied Diesel and I thought it would just work itself out once he realized I wouldn’t let him be mean. Silly me. It only continued to escalate. When Pony would see Diesel outside he would go crazy, jumping and barking at the front window. His voice and manner were the absolute antithesis of his normal behavior. It was like he would enter some kind of fugue state, hell-bent on getting to and destroying Diesel.

I no longer allowed them to play together.

When we were outside at the same time, I would manage Pony’s behavior but it was becoming more intense and more challenging to call him off. So I modified my behavior instead. I would check outside before taking Pony out, I would avoid my neighbor’s house, he and I stopped being friendly- can’t really blame us, our kids didn’t get along. One night, I had nephew in the car with me. He and Pony were born only 6 weeks apart and it’s no secret that Jack is Pony’s BFF. He has always been both obedient to and protective of him. I pulled into my driveway having done a quick scan to check for Diesel and his dad- nothing. Jack gets himself out of his booster seat and I head for the back to open the cargo door for Pony. I’m not at all concerned because I have the remote in my pocket and I’ve already scanned for Diesel. No worries, right?

Well, there wouldn’t be a blog post if the story ends here.

Call it fate or dumb luck or perhaps a big, fat lesson for me, but as I was pulling in and chatting with Jack, Diesel and his dad came outside for a walk. Diesel was on his leash, Pony was not. Pony joyfully leaped from the car, excited to spend the evening with Jack. In less than a blink of an eye, Pony noticed Diesel, realized that Jack was in the driveway and I guess decided that the danger was far greater than his loyalty to me. He attacked. I don’t mean he barked and lunged as per usual. He attacked. He was on Diesel in a flash and his intent was not to play or scare, he wanted to hurt him. He ignored the shock I was giving him, he ignored my commands to release and recall, he ignored everything other than his self-imposed mission to protect Jack and to rid the neighborhood of Diesel.

It lasted about 7 seconds. Doesn’t sound like much but watching your “perfect” dog being possessed by evil and witnessing another dog in grave danger because of it makes 7 seconds feel like hours. Like a fool, I reached my hands into the fray and miraculously I was unharmed. Pony snapped out of it and sat calmly at my side as if expecting praise for his good deed. I immediately knew this was Pony’s fault and, therefore, my responsibility. I offered to drive them both to my vet right now. While there was not a scratch on Pony, Diesel was bleeding from several wounds. It was bad. His dad chose instead to file a police report and take Diesel to the Emergency Vet. As was his right, of course. I’m not trying to victim blame or pass the buck.

That was an expense I was not prepared to absorb, but of course I did. This was my responsibility. Following that, as I’m sure you can imagine, my dwindling friendship with my neighbor was gone. He was angry, we were both terrified it might happen again, I began to resent him because I couldn’t figure out how to remove Pony’s obsession. I changed our lives drastically. No more outside play, no more neighborhood walks, potty breaks in the back yard only, car rides to the park for exercise. It became so second nature to avoid another confrontation that I didn’t realize how much living in fear was affecting our quality of life. This went on for over a year.

During that time I noticed his playtime bullying became increasingly more frequent and intense. Deep inside I knew I was witnessing that beginning of another obsession but I pulled an ostrich and continued to manage his behavior. I was just beginning my business and if I allowed another incident involving my dog then who on earth would trust me with theirs? Living with a secret is an awful thing; not knowing how to resolve the secret only doubles down on the awful. I knew we couldn’t continue on this way. I excitedly registered for a weekend seminar with Jeff Gellman of Solid K9 Training and took Pony with me determined to follow any advice I would get from a master trainer- even if it meant being “mean” to my baby. It was time I take my own advice and ask for help- I needed it. My norm had become rearranging my life around my dog’s behavior and that’s the very thing I don’t allow my clients to do. I was living hypocritically, I knew it and I hated myself for it. Even worse was that I was putting other dogs at risk with my selfish behavior and confidence that I could manage it.

Isn’t this an odd blog post to kick off my website dedicated to my business as a dog trainer? Indeed. If you’ve stuck with me this far, however, know that there’s a really happy ending coming! I attended the seminar, I learned so, so much and developed a behavior modification protocol I call “The Nuclear Option.” It’s not management, it’s modification- a very important distinction. As with most dog training, 80% of the work was for me. I sucked it up. I did it. It worked.

I know, I know, you want details. I’ll give them, I promise. Please come back to visit frequently and look forward to my next blog on The Nuclear Option.

Love and Belly Rubs, Zia