Training Your Dog to Come When Called

Michael Baugh CDBC

Coming-When-Called (verb)

In response to a cue, the dog quickly decreases the distance from where they are to where you are, usually in a straight line, ending in front of you.

Reinforce this behavior every time it occurs.

Avoid asking for additional behavior, such as a sit, before reinforcing. Reward the come first. Everything else can wait.

The Sacred Promise

Many people tell me, “My dog will come if I say, ‘Treat!'”

Of course he will.

When you say “Treat,” you’re not lying to your dog. You fully intend to give him one.

So why not create that same certainty around the word “Come”?

Say, “(your dog’s name), Come!” Your dog runs to you. You give a treat. Every single time.

Come → Your dog comes → Treat.

That’s it.

The word Come should always mean the same thing: If you come to me, I’ll give you something.

Every time.

It’s a sacred promise.

And that’s the beginning of teaching a truly reliable come-when-called.

Simple, right?

Single-Rep Sessions

Throughout the day, randomly call your dog from another room.

Say, “(your dog’s name), Come!”

When your dog arrives, reinforce the behavior with a treat.

For best results, carry treats with you. If you don’t have one in your pocket, simply walk with your dog to where the treats are after he comes. That’s perfectly fine.

Then wait at least twenty minutes before calling him again.

Avoid practicing several repetitions in a row. Instead, teach in single-rep sessions scattered throughout the day.

Increase the Challenge

Once you and your dog are succeeding indoors, begin practicing outside.

Again, call once, reinforce. These are single-rep sessions.

If you’re not in a securely fenced area, use a long leash for safety.

The pattern never changes:

Come → Your dog runs to you → Treat. Every time.

Continue reinforcing this behavior throughout your dog’s life.

The goal isn’t to wean your dog off food reinforcement.

The goal is to build a recall so strong that your dog chooses you over squirrels, smells, other dogs, and every other competing motivator the world has to offer.

Few things in dog training are as satisfying as watching your dog sprint toward you full speed, eager, and joyful.

You’ll probably feel proud.

You’ll certainly feel more in control.

But my hope is that you’ll feel something even better: a deep connection with your dog.

That’s the best feeling of all.

That’s what you’ve been practicing for all along.

Micheal Baugh teaches dog training in Sedona, Arizona, Houston, Texas and online everywhere. 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.

Are We Asking Too Much of Our Dogs?

Michael Baugh CDBC

In 2003, Jon Katz published The New Work of Dogs. He was prescient. Humans were becoming more isolated, divided, and lonely. Dogs, he predicted, would fill the void, becoming surrogates for the human connections we couldn’t find or keep. Even then, our athletic hunters and protectors were trading in their physical roles for emotional ones. Heart Dogs saw us through life’s changes, relationships, heartbreak, big wins and losses.

The New Role of Dogs

We humans have a tendency to change our world faster than we can sometimes keep up. Cultural evolution now outpaces biological evolution. Our brains were built for small tribes and slow change, not endless notifications and global crisis feeds. It’s no wonder we are so stressed. And so sick. So, we look to our dogs for a moment of warmth, some playful nonsense, a bit of meaningful connection.

Here’s the problem, and Katz knew it. All these changes in our lives are putting dogs under new pressures. When I first started as a trainer in 1999, therapy dogs were a novelty. Psychiatric service dogs and emotional support dogs were very rare. Now, they are commonplace. Dogs used to herd and protect cattle, to flush and retrieve game, and to guard property. Today we discourage them from doing any of those things. Instead, we want them to take care of us.

We Changed Their Story

Dogs didn’t change. We haven’t changed all that much either. But we rewrote the storyline. Fast. It’s too much for us. It’s too much for our dogs. And here we are, in counseling and on meds — both of us. And somewhere in the quiet moments, we know something just isn’t right.

What Can We Do Now?

Be with your dog. Your dog is a living, feeling, thinking being. Not a checklist of problems to fix. Spend time with your dog in whatever way makes sense now. We are in this together, changing together, trying to keep up together. Dogs don’t live long. Neither do we. Don’t waste a minute.
Move. We need motion to stay healthy. So does your herder, your retriever, your terrier (or any of the aforementioned mixed). Play with your dog. Learn with your dog.
Get outside. Let your dog sniff. Leave your phone at home and let your eyes wander. Get away from other dogs if it’s safer and follow your dog to follow unfamiliar scents. Some of us call these decompression walks.
Stop outsourcing your dog’s life. Daycare and board-and-trains can be useful. But they are not a substitute for you. That might be a hard line to read. I’m sorry. Humans are clever. We’ve created services to ease ourselves of the burden of having a dog, when all we ever really wanted was … a dog.

Lean into discomfort (together). If we’ve put our social and technological lives on hyper-drive, we’re going to feel it. Our dogs will feel it too. The human and canine brains do not evolve that fast. So, it’s not a matter of keeping up. We have to adapt.

Let your dog turn to you for support. He’s not your therapist or your emotional anchor. You are his. Own that. What about us? We have to turn toward each other. Rekindle an old friendship. Go to book club, or pickleball, or mahjong (whatever your thing is). Be with people. We’re not that bad. And let’s make peace with ourselves. Pray. Meditate. Read inspiring books. See inspiring films. Listen to music.

Take a deep breath. You’re alive.

And damn, look at that dog you have. So sweet. And those eyes. I wonder what’s going on behind those eyes.

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