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
