Dog Training – Active vs. Passive Learning

 

Michael Baugh CDBC

A new client in his early 30s stood in his driveway, his large dog sitting calmly by his side. His dog’s behavior intake form mentioned some aggression issues. This dog didn’t look aggressive, not at the moment anyway. I got out of my car, not nervous; let’s just say I was extra aware. (You don’t want to be creepy about it. It can spook the dog). The man released his dog to say hello, and it was all wags and nuzzles; the dog didn’t even jump.

“Who did you train with?” I asked the man later.

“I watched videos,” he answered, listing a few well-known positive reinforcement trainers.

You might think that trainers like me would be worried. Potential clients can get a flood of information about dog training any time they want online. AI will even help them refine their searches. I’m not worried. I’m glad. Watching videos helped my client and his dog. I made my job easier.

The problem isn’t dog training videos. It’s passive learning. A learner who is just a viewer doesn’t have to do anything. Yes, there is some retention of information, but that declines significantly if the learner is scrolling through videos. More is not better. Active is better.

A lot of positive reinforcement dog training videos are great. Books and podcasts are too. But research on learning consistently shows that participation and feedback improve retention far more than passive consumption. That matches what I see in dog training every day.

My client watched one video at a time. He paused and practiced. That’s not passive. It’s why he did so well. There were gaps and areas for improvement. But he’d gotten us to a great starting point.

When I’m working with a client, I teach a concept, demonstrate a skill, and then observe while my client tries the new skill with his dog. The process is dynamic. My clients’ active engagement solidifies the learning.

The more active the learner becomes by practicing, asking questions, and even handwriting notes, the more the information sticks.

Videos, podcasts, and reading all have their place. My client had a great deal of knowledge when I arrived on that first day. He and his dog had an open line of communication. My job was to show him how to leverage all that learning to remedy the occasional aggressive outbursts. After just two visits, far fewer than the number of times I typically see clients, the man smiled and said, “I think I got this.”

I nodded, “I think you do too.”

The foundation was already there. Dog training is experiential. If the information is good, putting it into action is the most sensible next step.

 

Michael Baugh CDBC  specializes in aggressive dog training in Sedona, Arizona and Houston, Texas. You can see his online dog training videos on YouTube.

Starbucks and Aggressive Dog Training

Michael Baugh CDBC

I savor victory every time I pass a Starbucks. It had a tight grip on me. Every day, I pulled into the drive-thru and pulled out my phone with the app. I smiled, paid, took what the big-bucks boss called my “luxury experience,” and drove off. The trouble started with lattes: grande, then venti, two percent, soy, oat milk. Always iced. Things got worse with the occasional piece of coffee cake or pumpkin loaf. The habit grew expensive. I grew fatter. It had to stop.

My personal journey kicking fast-food coffee reminds me a lot of my clients. Our dogs get into bad habits: barking, lunging, and biting. Things escalate. We grow frightened and weary. Of course, we want it to stop.

Our behavior seems random. Same with our dogs. Habits, aversions, quirks — how do they form? Our dogs’ aggressive behavior works. It creates distance. Scary things retreat. My Starbucks routine worked, too — caffeine, sugar, ritual, relief. Different behaviors, same mechanics. Short-term payoff. Long-term costs.

Here’s how I kicked my Starbucks habit with parallels to curbing aggressive behavior in our dogs. It’s simple. But it takes some grit to pull off in real life.

Block access to the unwanted pattern of behavior.

Starbucks: I deleted the app. Since I stopped most often on my way to client appointments, I left just in time to get there (none to spare at the drive-thru). In the early days, I also changed my route so I would not pass the location nearest my home.

Aggressive dog training: Avoid aggression triggers. Walk when there are fewer dogs and people out if that’s your problem. Safely confine the dog out-of-sight of visitors if it’s a stranger aggression issue. Keep dogs that fight separate. Manage toys and food if the dog is a resource guarder.

Create new patterns of behavior.

Starbucks: I make my own iced coffee at home and take it in a tumbler. It actually tastes better. Eating before I leave certainly helps, too. I call my best friend on the way to clients. He knows I’m a recovering consumer.

Aggressive dog training: Train calm, predictable patterns of behavior. Introduce the triggering stimulus gradually, from a distance, with very little activity or distraction. Teaching a relaxation protocol is a great idea. So is casual observation of a trigger in a non-stimulating setting.

This works. But behavior change is still hard. I still think about stopping. And I still notice every Starbucks sign, no matter where I am. The process works with our dogs as well. Stick with it. Remember, I said this takes grit. I meant that. The long-term payoff? It’s absolutely worth it. Like a cold brew with oat milk from my tumbler on a warm day, it’s worth it.

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Sedona AZ and Houston TX. He specializes in aggressive dog training.

Our Dogs are not Babies and That’s Okay

Michael Baugh CDBC

I call Charlie “baby” all the time. He’s not a baby. He’s definitely not a “fur baby” (ugh). He’s a dog.

Still, I understand why people drift toward treating dogs like children. We live closely with them. We organize our days around them. They watch us constantly, learn our rhythms, wait for us, comfort us. Somewhere in that exchange, affection starts borrowing language.

But dogs are not failed humans or substitute children. They are something rarer: fully and completely dogs.

Back in the early 2000s, author Jon Katz argued that dogs were taking on a new role in human life. In The New Work of Dogs, he wrote that dogs were no longer primarily our hunting partners, guardians, or herders. They were becoming companions in a deeper emotional sense — life partners more than work partners. He saw the shift early.

He was right.

People around the world are having fewer children than they once did, while dog ownership continues to rise. Those trends do not automatically mean one replaces the other, but it is hard not to notice how emotionally central dogs have become in modern life. For many people, they are daily companionship in an increasingly isolated world.

Of course we become attached. Dogs evolved beside us for thousands of years. They are unusually attuned to human behavior in ways few animals are. Charlie knows I’m leaving before I’ve found my keys. He notices changes in tone before I realize my mood has shifted. He can be asleep across the room and somehow still detect the exact moment someone opens a bag of shredded cheese.

Dogs pay attention.

Not the way humans do. Their awareness is different from ours, shaped by senses and instincts we barely understand. We move through the world visually. Dogs move through it by scent. Every walk becomes a flood of information invisible to us. That patch of grass they refuse to leave alone may contain an entire neighborhood newspaper written in smell.

And they live through their bodies in ways we mostly forgot how to. They sprint, twist, climb, sniff, wrestle, chase, roll in things they absolutely should not roll in. Even old dogs retain some spark of that physical joy. Watch a dog explode into a run across an open field and try not to envy it a little.

This is part of why calling dogs “babies” never quite fits. Babies grow into adults. Dogs grow more fully into themselves. The relationship is different. Cross-species, ancient, strange. Wolves came one direction; humans another. Yet somehow we met in the middle and decided to stay.

That bond deserves more than projection.

Love your dog for what your dog actually is. Play tug. Throw the ball again even though your shoulder hurts. Let them stop and sniff every ridiculous spot on the walk. Learn the signals they use to communicate instead of demanding constant obedience like you’re programming a machine. Sit with them on cold evenings. Feel the weight of them leaning against your leg or curled against your chest. There is trust in that weight.

Call them “baby” if you want. I probably still will too.

Just remember: the beautiful creature asleep beside you is not pretending to be human. Not even close. That scruffy, athletic, scent-driven little beast is something older and weirder than that.

A dog. Entirely dog.

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Sedona Arizona and Houston Texas. He specializes in aggressive dog training.