May the Road Rise Up to Meet You

10 Things I’ve Learned About Leading Dogs

Lesson #3:  One of the great pleasures of dog companionship, admittedly also a potential source of serious angst and anxiety, is the daily ritual of walking with them. When we sign on for the privilege of having the unconditional love and loyalty of a dog in our lives, it comes with a responsibility. It’s there, in the small print. 

You gotta walk the dog. 

Dogs need exercise. Well, so do we, and for a lot of us, it’s our dog that gets us out in the world to walk those 10,000 steps a day. But I know. It can be a little like brushing your teeth. You know you need to get the dog out to walk and sniff and pee, but maybe it’s not exactly the highlight of your day. Especially if your dog is leash reactive. Who looks forward to having a lunging, charging, snarling dog at the other end of the leash? Or a super scared, anxious dog who balks and cringes with every new experience? 

So, if walking on leash in the neighborhood has proven to be a little difficult, maybe you decide that the best way to exercise your dog is to head off to the local dog park, where you can let your dog off-leash and watch, as other dogs keep yours active and entertained.

Leila did great in the dog park at first. 

I did the dog park thing, with Leila. It worked really well, for a while. She got along with most dogs and ran and played, and I loved watching her in action. She was only about a year old. But as she matured, we continued to meet dog after unbalanced dog who sensed things about her that I was only just beginning to understand. She got a lot of crap from those dogs. And when challenged, she responded in kind, and then some. I was pretty much on top of it. Nothing terrible happened.  But generally speaking, these dogs were unattended. Their people were immersed either in conversation or their electronic devices. They had no clue their dogs were being rude or bullying other dogs. Worse, there were sometimes people – and children - at the dog park without anything like good dog sense, and their behavior made Leila nervous. Me too. 

In any case, when we started our behavior modification training program with Leila, we were told in no uncertain terms: “No more dog park.” 

So, what was left? Neighborhood walks, for sure. Those were important in our training. We had to walk in the neighborhood (her territory) and practice and apply the obedience principles that we were being taught, because that was the area where Leila was most likely to be reactive. But would Leila ever be able to run and play off-leash again? I didn’t know the answer, at first. And I worried about it. But, I was forced to try something different, and when I did, here’s what I learned. 

Lesson:  Walking with your dog out in the world, exploring and having adventures together, can be the most meaningful bonding experience you can have with your dog. 

Leila wore a Baskerville muzzle for outside activities,
until she proved her trustworthiness.

We did a lot with Leila that contributed to her rehabilitation, and we had excellent guidance from Kathy Kear and Mahogany Gamble that we couldn’t have done without. But looking back, an absolutely essential ingredient was the time I spent with her on leash, every morning, walking parks and trails, exploring and discovering with her. We still do this today. It's been built into a lifetime habit, and I'm kind of addicted to it.

Here's how I think about it. The 30,000 years old relationship between dog and human was first developed when we learned a way of hunting together.  Listening together. Sniffing the air together.  Noticing movement and changes in the landscape, together. Walking with your dog in whatever constitutes your “wilderness,” being in tune with her perceptions and responses is a great place to learn to lead. 

We gave up the dog park and started walking together every morning, always on leash, and with Leila muzzled. We began exploring the amazing parks of Oakland and the East Bay Regional Park system. At first, just the areas around the dog park that we were familiar with. Then further out, walking mostly trails that didn’t allow bikes, since they were a huge trigger for her. (Eventually, I took her to trails where I knew we would encounter bikes, so that we could work on her reactions to them.)

I was intent on learning to be her leader, but I started by paying close attention to everything she sensed and responded to on our walks. I stopped when she stopped. And then I called her to follow. I allowed her to move ahead of me when she scented something important, and then I pushed ahead of her to lead when the timing felt right. There were a million little moments of attention and adjustment on both our parts that built our on-leash relationship. A lot of her confidence in me was built on those trails, and I have to tell you, I didn’t start out confident, at all. I didn’t know really what I was doing out there. But I listened to my instincts and paid attention to her responses. I stepped in when something spooked her, and encouraged her to “check it,” when it was really nothing. Now, when she hears me say, “check it,” she already knows. Huh. No big deal. 

Obedience training and behavior modification gave us the tools to help Leila change, and we practiced those every day. But being together every day out on the trail helped make Leila want to change. It was a big part of what made her trust me, as her leader and her friend. 

It’s hard to describe how it felt six months into our program when Leila was given the freedom of being on a long lead (a 20 ft leash dragging on the ground) in one of our favorite parks. To see how responsive she was, how much she could be trusted already.  Her recall was so solid. And her gratitude and happiness at having the freedom she had earned with the work we’ve done – well, I see that to this day.

Walking the dog will never again be a chore for me to get through.  It’s the best part of my day.  

Every good dog knows her place.

10 Things I’ve Learned About Leading Dogs

Lesson #2:  Before Leila, in my “average dog owner” days, I heard a lot about “crate-training.” Why it is so helpful in housebreaking, how dogs themselves seek the safety of the crate, how convenient it is in a busy household with multiple animals and kids. And…I pretty much disregarded all of it. 

Why was I so sure crate-training was for some other dog owner, and not me? Well, remember, I had the perfect dog. Cooper didn’t need to be contained, restrained or restricted. Godzilla was another case altogether. But instead of crating him, I slept with him. Yep. I did. He was small and cuddly, and it really comforted both of us to have him with me every night. I never really believed there was a connection between his insane behavior during our waking hours and the fact that he shared my bed. So, the element of my stubbornness may well have been in play here. OK, it was.  

Savage thinks cats should have the safety of a crate, too.
Leila's crate contains a bed, toys and fresh water.  

Since that time, I’ve learned some things. Crating isn’t just a convenience for people. And it should never be about punishment or isolating dogs from the rest of the family. It actually helps dogs relax, especially those who have a hard time managing their own insecurities, impulses and instincts to guard or be territorial. Why that is, is up for debate.  

Some people say that teaching dogs to relax in a crate instills a sense of security because they are genetically programmed to “den” – i.e., to dig and then live communally in a hole in the ground, like their wolf ancestors, who have been observed to do this. Others assert there’s really not enough evidence to say that about dogs, who don’t behave exactly the same way that wolves do. OK. But we know that wild female dogs will dig a nest in the form of a den to crawl into, whelp, nurse and raise their puppies, safe from predators. And Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, who wrote The Hidden Life of Dogs, observed that her pack of 12 dogs, left on their own to do whatever the heck they wanted to do in her back yard, eventually did live in a den of their own making. An interesting book to read, not that I would want to live with dogs in quite this way.  

Crate-training probably won't solve every behavioral 

concern. But it's a solid beginning for the

journey to a confident, balanced dog.

Whatever is true about why crate-training helps create a calmer dog, it makes perfect sense to me that a dog who knows where, and what, her place is, is more serene. I talk to a lot of people who have dogs, and of course we talk about dog behavior and how hard it can be sometimes to live with them. Amazingly, very few provide a “place” for their dog. What I mean is, the dog has complete freedom in the house, jumps up on couches and beds that are also used by people, and doesn’t have a clear sense of where they belong in the rooms where people and dogs hang out together.  

Very often, these same people who treat their dogs as equal owners of the space in which they live, tell me about problems that confound and upset them. For instance, their dogs don’t like it when their humans ask them to “move over” or “get down.” Sometimes they even growl their irritation about it. They bark uncontrollably when someone enters the house and it takes a long time for them to settle down, while their frantic, embarrassed human chases after them and tries to settle them down. They pace around the house guarding anxiously, alert and armed like an alarm for the next home invasion. Or they follow their person around the house, constantly seeking reassurance through contact, unable to separate with confidence, unsure of…what? Their place.   

This was Leila, when she came to live with us. And this was also my life with Godzilla. Is this you and your dog? If so, here’s what I’ve learned.  

Lesson:  whether you provide a crate, a dog bed or even just a towel or blanket on the floor for your dog, it’s important that wherever her human family tends to congregate, your dog knows where she belongs. We have several such places for Leila – wherever we hang out together. The crate is in the living room, there’s a bed with a tie-down in the breakfast room where we have coffee in the morning, and she has her own very comfortable bed in our bedroom.  

July 4, 2015 - Leila on tie-down in the breakfast room.
The annual fireworks cataclysm in Oakland. We're good.

Leila’s trainers taught us that structure for your dog in her home means more than convenience and control – although it certainly offers that. What it also means is that your dog has a place where nothing is demanded or expected of them – except relaxation. Meditation, even. Consistently putting a dog in a crate, or on a tie-down on their own bed or blanket, teaches them that you are actually in charge and it’s OK for them to let go. The message is, “you’re off the clock; your services are not required at this time.” Or, as our trainers Kathy and Mahogany would say, your dog will eventually learn that she is “off duty for life.” Many good trainers teach the concept of “place” as a fundamental.  

These are good messages for a dog, especially one like Leila – insecure, but territorial, who anxiously believed that her function as a working dog was to protect us from all incursions. Leila’s anxiety was painful for us. It caused her to break windows in an effort to fend off passersby. It caused her to treat our most favored friends who visited our home as threats. But it was probably most painful of all to her. Can you imagine the burden she carried? Dogs with separation anxiety have a similar burden, which I understand can also really be helped with this kind of structure.  

An example of crate training success that I discounted for years. My very smart brother's sweet, balanced dog. Trixie is a cattle dog/pit bull mix with high drive, raised in an apartment with love, lots of exercise, awesome leadership and the clarity and safety of a crate. Here she is, enjoying its comfort. Props to you, Michael.  

I was an average dog person. Then came Leila.

Leila

When I adopted an insecure, territorial 75 lb. Anatolian Shepherd mix named Leila, my life changed.  Irrevocably.  

From toddlerhood, I’ve been in love with dogs.  But for most of my adult life, I’ve really only been what I’d now call an “average” dog owner.  No real understanding or dedication to what my dog needed.  A few rules, not many.  Ambiguous and ever-changing use of language for important commands.  Some exercise, not very much.  

Cooper

I got away with this because my first dog in adulthood was essentially the perfect dog.  Cooper, a Newfoundland/Irish Setter mix, lived with me for almost 14 years.  Ironically, people used to call me for advice about dog behavior problems because of how astoundingly well-behaved Cooper was, and I’d go…uh…maybe ask your vet?  Hah! 

Godzilla

Then, I scooped up off the street an outrageously imperfect dog.  A Yorkshire Terrier I aptly named “Godzilla.”  There goes Tokyo.  He attacked everyone on the way into the house, on the way out of the house, and if they made any false moves in the house.  But luckily he only weighed about 10 lbs.  

I therefore never had to learn much about what it means to provide structure and clarity and to understand and truly lead a dog of serious size and damage potential who depends on you for all of the lessons that will help them to adapt to human expectations.  And survive. 

I know a lot more now.  Maybe what I’ve learned can add to your journey with the dog or dogs in your life. 

10 Things I’ve Learned About Leading Dogs

Lesson #1 - The leash.  As an average dog owner, I understood that the leash was supposed to keep my dog from tearing off after a distant squirrel, running pell mell into traffic and ending his life abruptly.  Well, it’s that.  But it’s a lot more.  The leash is your line of communication with your dog, and it’s also like an umbilical cord, providing a link of security between you and your dog.  It’s a lifeline, and your dog knows it.  Working with your dog on leash is one of the primary elements of building your relationship.  

I first learned this lesson from Cooper, the almost perfect dog.  He had gone up a slippery spiral staircase that he had previously, well, slipped down.  And, because of that previous slip, he wouldn’t come down on his own this time.  Scared and panting at the top of the stairs, he simply would not move.  I coaxed and pleaded and ordered him like a drill sergeant, but nothing I said or barked at him made a difference.  Then the lightbulb of inspiration prompted me to get his leash.  I walked up the stairs, clipped it on his collar, and he stood and marched down those stairs next to me with confidence.  Good dog. 

Lesson:  your dog will do many things much more readily because you’ve connected him to you with the leash.  If you find yourself yelling commands at your dog, and he’s looking at you with what looks like obstinacy, or fear, or boredom, or uncertainty…calmly get the leash and walk him through what it is you’re asking him to do.  Once you do this enough times, your dog will understand, through repeated physical action, what you’re asking of him and that you mean it.  When words aren’t working, use the leash.  Not as a punishment; as a guide.  It works, most of the time.  I could write pages on what I’ve learned about leash handling and communication, but I’ll save that for another time.