Dog training, part 256
About a week ago I caught part of an episode of Nature on PBS where they were taking dogs from shelters and teaching them to be useful members of society - teaching a young bloodhound to track for the police, teaching a bearded collie to work sheep - and I had a eureka moment. Watching that beardie was like watching my own dog - forging ahead on lead, wanting to lunge out of his kennel, etc., and the trainer said it was all dominant behavior - that he didn't recognize her authority yet.
Cue lightbulb. I think in my head I had always connected dominant=aggressive, and since Murph is totally NOT aggressive, and mostly obeys me, and lets me do things to him, and doesn't drag me down the street (although he doesn't heel nicely and absolutely CANNOT be let off lead), that he wasn't dominant. Duh. Stupid human. My dog doesn't recognize my authority, either, and I was feeding this by letting him get away with certain things, mostly for my convenience -- e.g., he doesn't come when called, or has to be called repeatedly, if he's getting a drink of water or is by the back door wanting to go out. I have rewarded this for months by thinking, oh, it's OK, he's just getting a drink of water, that's why he's not coming, or that's good, he's not coming because he has to go outside and he's waiting for me to "get it" and come and let him out. Um, great, Lisa, you've just taught your dog that you are there to wait on him, that things happen on his terms not yours, and that as long as he has a good reason for not responding it's OK.
So what this woman did with the beardie just fascinated me: first off, she said that when she opened the kennel door she wanted him not to think of it as being released by the opened door, but that *she* was the person who determined whether or not he came out of the kennel. So she went inside and led him out. I don't have that option, so when I open the door to Murphy's crate I stand in the opening so he can't get out. He jitterbugs around inside for a minute, and then when he settles down I move back. If he charges for the door I block him again. When he comes out calmly, we move to the door between the dining room and the kitchen, where I stand with my back to him until he stops trying to get around me. Then we walk through the kitchen. And so forth. Same thing at the bedroom door in the mornings - I've been just stepping out of his way while he rockets through the dining room, mashing cats down in his path, headed for breakfast. Not any more: I keep him behind me, stopping at the various bottlenecks, and he's rapidly understanding that he does not get to run ahead of me. It's all about physical position as much as anything.
This morning my "breaks" in the doorways were a little shorter, and as we started through the kitchen he was jostling me and coming up alongside me like he wanted to run past - I WHIPPED around and GLARED at him, and he sat. down. And after about another 2 seconds of glaring he laid down. And looked away from me. I turned around and continued on to where his food bowl is kept, and instead of jumping straight up and rushing after me he stayed down for a few seconds, and I could almost hear his little wheels turning: Wow! I don't know what I did to make her mad, but I think I'm going to treat her with a little more respect from now on.
I don't expect miracles - he's not instantly going to be calm and submissive, but he's already starting to get the idea that I won't be a pushover any more. Sadly, I didn't think I *was*, but I guess I was wrong.
Cue lightbulb. I think in my head I had always connected dominant=aggressive, and since Murph is totally NOT aggressive, and mostly obeys me, and lets me do things to him, and doesn't drag me down the street (although he doesn't heel nicely and absolutely CANNOT be let off lead), that he wasn't dominant. Duh. Stupid human. My dog doesn't recognize my authority, either, and I was feeding this by letting him get away with certain things, mostly for my convenience -- e.g., he doesn't come when called, or has to be called repeatedly, if he's getting a drink of water or is by the back door wanting to go out. I have rewarded this for months by thinking, oh, it's OK, he's just getting a drink of water, that's why he's not coming, or that's good, he's not coming because he has to go outside and he's waiting for me to "get it" and come and let him out. Um, great, Lisa, you've just taught your dog that you are there to wait on him, that things happen on his terms not yours, and that as long as he has a good reason for not responding it's OK.
So what this woman did with the beardie just fascinated me: first off, she said that when she opened the kennel door she wanted him not to think of it as being released by the opened door, but that *she* was the person who determined whether or not he came out of the kennel. So she went inside and led him out. I don't have that option, so when I open the door to Murphy's crate I stand in the opening so he can't get out. He jitterbugs around inside for a minute, and then when he settles down I move back. If he charges for the door I block him again. When he comes out calmly, we move to the door between the dining room and the kitchen, where I stand with my back to him until he stops trying to get around me. Then we walk through the kitchen. And so forth. Same thing at the bedroom door in the mornings - I've been just stepping out of his way while he rockets through the dining room, mashing cats down in his path, headed for breakfast. Not any more: I keep him behind me, stopping at the various bottlenecks, and he's rapidly understanding that he does not get to run ahead of me. It's all about physical position as much as anything.
This morning my "breaks" in the doorways were a little shorter, and as we started through the kitchen he was jostling me and coming up alongside me like he wanted to run past - I WHIPPED around and GLARED at him, and he sat. down. And after about another 2 seconds of glaring he laid down. And looked away from me. I turned around and continued on to where his food bowl is kept, and instead of jumping straight up and rushing after me he stayed down for a few seconds, and I could almost hear his little wheels turning: Wow! I don't know what I did to make her mad, but I think I'm going to treat her with a little more respect from now on.
I don't expect miracles - he's not instantly going to be calm and submissive, but he's already starting to get the idea that I won't be a pushover any more. Sadly, I didn't think I *was*, but I guess I was wrong.