Something to Chew On

Michael Baugh CPDT-KA, CDBC

Dogs chew. It’s not just a puppy thing either. Dogs actually chew throughout their lifetime. It helps pass the time, keep their teeth clean and diffuse stress. More than that, it appears to be fun and satisfying for most dogs.

A lot of folks ask, “How do I get my dog to stop chewing?” We should probably ask a different question. Perhaps, “can I teach my dog to chew something else other than my stuff?” Now we’re on to something. The idea is to teach your dog to chew this and not that. Here’s a straightforward two-step process.

Step one: limit choices. Make it more difficult, if not impossible, for our dog to make the wrong choice. If your dog is chewing furniture, keep him away from his target. If he’s tearing up clothes, make sure all the clothes are out of reach. Woodwork? Safely confine and carefully supervise your dog. Some trainers call this management. I call it good common sense. Don’t set your dog up to lose time and time again. The truth is your dog doesn’t live by a moral compass. There is no right or wrong; there is only available or non-available. Make the wrong choices hard to find.

Step two: make it easy to make right choices. Give your dog chewing options which are both allowed and better than the other options (like furniture). I’m a huge fan of fully packed Kong Toys. Don’t just smear peanut butter in there with a measly treat. Load that bad boy up with a meal. Then revel in watching your dog solve the puzzle of unpacking it. Of course, there are tons of other chewing options. My dogs love elk antlers. Stella, in particular, really enjoys cardboard paper towel rolls. Of course, I give these to her and we always supervise chewing. Avoid putting out too many choices for chewing. Remember, we want to make the choices easy. A room full of toys and chew sticks doesn’t make for easy choosing. Everything looks like a chew toy in that setting, and then we’re back to square one.

Changing your dog’s behavior is all about making smart changes in the environment. Left to their own devices dogs will do the best they can, but they won’t always make the right choices. With just a little help from us, they can win every time. Make it harder for them to chew on the stuff we don’t want them to chew on. Make it easy and rewarding to chew on the right stuff. Keep that up for a few months and watch what happens. You’ll be so happy watching your dog chew up something you gave him that you’ll wonder why you ever wanted to make him stop.

Originally published on the Houston Pet Talk blog.

Sit Happens – No Problem

Michael Baugh CPDT-KA, CDBC

Good dog trainers know we don’t teach dogs to do anything they don’t already know how to do. That may sound like nonsense, but it’s true. Your dog already knows how to walk beside you, and come to you. He also knows how to stay put and lay down. He knows how to sit too. The trick of training your dog is to teach him to do those things a lot, in all kinds of situations, when you ask for the behavior.

So yes, it’s true, sit happens. It happens all the time. In fact, most of my students have already taught their dog to sit on a verbal cue by the time they meet me. But here’s the rub. The dog will sit when asked so long as we’re inside, and the person is facing the dog, and (by the way) nothing much else is going on at the time. The question we really want to ask isn’t does your dog know sit? It’s how strong is your dog’s sit, and in what context? There’s the rub indeed.

Sit can be used to remedy dozens of problems, including jumping on people (he sits instead), bolting outdoors (the dog is sitting not running), stealing things off counters (can’t do it if he’s sitting), and chasing your kids (impossible if you’ve asked him to sit instead). Achieving these goals is very doable, but we need to start with the basics. Never give your dog the final exam before you’ve taught him the material. That’s just not fair.

It’s not about the word. Start teaching sit by temporarily taking the word out of your vocabulary. Instead, every time you see your dog sit say “yes” and give him a delicious bit of healthy food. Once he sits, take a few steps backwards and see if he follows you and sits again. Say “yes” and treat him again. This is called capturing, like catching a bit of action on film (behaviors are actions). Do this over and over, so that your dog gets hooked on sitting. Every time he sits, after all, something great happens.

Name it. When your dog is thoroughly addicted to sitting for you, name the action. That’s right, when you are 95% sure he’s going to do it anyway you are going to cue your dog to “sit.” This seems backwards but it’s not. Verbal cues (they used to call them commands) are not directions to do something; they are permission to do something. Your dog is already begging to sit for you. Now the word is going to give him the green light. Say it once. Your dog can hear you, so repeating the word sit is not useful.

Take the show on the road. Now you can start using sit as an antidote to more troubling behavior, but take it slow. Ask for sits in gradually more difficult situations, but not so difficult that your dog fails. Remember the rule about not giving the final exam too early. The best way to teach your dog is to set him up to succeed, raising the bar of difficulty a little at a time. Since your dog is working at a game he can win, he will be excited and energetic about sitting. “Yes” and treat enthusiastically. This is going to give you the opportunity to teach quick sits in more distracting settings. Forcing sits by yanking a chain or pushing on hips is less exciting and slows the process (it can also hurt your dog).

Let your imagination guide you to further challenges. What else can you teach your dog to do that is the opposite of bad behavior? Look back and notice the things your dog is already doing well. Capture that behavior and use it to crowd out the stuff you want him to stop doing. Dogs who walk calmly on leash (good behavior) don’t lunge and pull (bad behavior). Dogs who eliminate outside (good) don’t do it inside (bad). Dogs who lay quietly on their beds with their Kong Toy (good) don’t beg at the table (bad). You get the picture. It’s all a matter of replacing the bad with the good. Add to that, it’s a great way to build a relationship with your dog. And isn’t that why you got a dog in the first place?

Travels with Dogs

Michael Baugh CPDT-KA, CDBC

I’ve set off across the country a few times now. I gathered up my things, and packed them with my sense of self. It was always for a job; that’s the way it was working in TV news. I’d rent a truck, cram everything in and tear out. It was always a quick move with a bunch of stuff cast aside, stuff I wanted to forget, emotional stuff. I set off on my own, again and again, leaving home, looking for home. Of course I wasn’t really on my own. I left people behind. The dog always came with.

Juno made the last two moves with me, the delicate blond golden retriever I first met

in the front seat of my car. My partner at the time came into the newsroom in St. Louis to tell me he’d found the “most perfect golden retriever ever.” He was more right than either of us knew. He’d left her in the parking lot, in the car, balled up on the front seat, nose tucked to tail, fast asleep. When I saw her I let out a long sigh, and smiled. She looked up at me, bleary eyed, just 8 weeks old. Two years later we’d leave the partner who brought me Juno. He’d follow us to Cleveland and four years after that we’d leave him again. I’m sorry for that, for the pain we caused. My heart belonged to a dog, and a life I would never find except in the journey with her.

I’ve thought about Juno and St. Louis a lot recently. My colleague from those days, Jean Whatley, is traveling across the country with her dog, Libby. She’s writing, snapping photos and rolling video of the adventure for her blog

(www.offtheleashroadstories.com). She tells her own story much better than I ever could. Still, there are themes: regret, reflection, the seeking and hope for redemption. These things resonate so deeply and wake me at night. What now? What’s all this about? Why this time, these people? Why me? I’ve got to get out of here. I have to go. Now. Don’t forget the dog.

I worked with Jean in St. Louis at a TV station that would eventually shut down its news department. I was in the first round of layoffs. The news director invited me to sit. I refused and stood stone-faced. He told me my contract was not being renewed but that I could finish out the remaining 6 months. It was an easy sentence compared to today’s layoffs. It was still the worst thing that had happened to my fragile ego thus far in my life. I went home to Juno and cried, deep wracking gasp-for-breath sobbing. She looked at me like I was an idiot, but in my state I saw it as love. In the movie version I say this next line aloud to Juno. In real life I just thought it. I will never again depend on a company or a boss for my sense of self worth or our survival. I promise. That was the moment I decided to become a professional dog trainer. “And, damn it Juno, you’re going to help me.” That part I really said.

We loaded up the truck and moved to Cleveland, me and Juno rolling across the Mississippi River Bridge. It may have been the same route Jean took to Chicago when she set off with Libby. I don’t know. I was on my way to another TV job and to start a dog training company. Jean – I think she’s got a book in her. I wonder if maybe it’s mine. It’s funny how good stories work out like that. We all have a share of them, the big questions, and the epic quests for self and how we fit in. What’s it about and why me? If you’re a traveler, you load up a car and go. The answer’s down the road, I suppose.

Juno did help me become a dog trainer, a pretty good one. We moved again together, this time to Houston for another TV job. The best tales have little twists like that, don’t they? We met Tim, my partner. Then, a short time later I came to my senses and decided to leave TV again.

That was right before Juno left us. It was cancer. We laid her down on the cool wood floor under the piano where she loved to listen to Tim play. The vet had come to our house to help her along. She relaxed and looked up at me, bleary eyed, 11 ½ years old. I let out a sigh. You really are the most perfect golden retriever ever.

Juno and I logged a lot of miles together, lots of cities, and adventures. But our real journey wasn’t about travel at all. I wonder if that’s what it’s like for Jean and Libby out finding themselves in America. For me, it turns out the journey was about where Juno was taking us without ever leaving my side. It was about finding my better self in the reflection of her eyes, the one worthy of love even when I was acting like an idiot. It was about learning to stay put, to draw people near and dare to love them the way Juno loved me. Yes, it was about big questions, but it was about the little questions too. Who are you? What’s your story? Do you want to share the path for a while? And, by the way, have you met my dog?