Calming Shelter Dogs

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

Sometimes the best thing you can do for a shelter dog’s emotional well being is nothing at all. But, please don’t misunderstand. “Nothing” in this case doesn’t mean neglect. If fact, this kind of “doing nothing” takes a great deal of attention and patience.

Dogs in shelters live under a great deal of stress and constant stimulation. People are coming and going. The lights are on for long hours. Dogs are barking and jumping and pacing. It’s a heartbreaking cacophony to those of us who work and volunteer in shelters. For the dogs it’s nightmarish. And it leads to progressive behavioral deterioration.

It’s no wonder so many of these dogs are frenetic when we take them out of their runs. They jump on us with apparent glee. They wiggle and wag and pant. Their excitement is over-the-top. We’ve all seen this before. They are filled with joy to be out of there and interacting with us. That much is true. The trouble is they are so aroused by their environment that they have no idea how to control themselves around people. They look crazy. It’s no wonder. They live crazy lives.

Because we care and because we love them, many of us reflect their joy and excitement right back at them. We pet them; tussle their ears and talk our sweetest most energetic baby talk. Then we trot them out for potty time and exercise. There’s no real harm in that. We’re only human after all. But are we doing any good? Is this dog learning how to live in a home with a family? Or is he just learning to freak out and jump with exuberance on every new person he meets?

I know. Those are hard questions to ask ourselves.

Let’s try this instead and see how it works. Behave the way you want the dog to behave. It turns out that dogs are very good at reading our body language, facial expressions and overall emotional tone. Be calm and project that calm onto the dog. Take him out of his run quietly, with a gentle hello. Walk outside at a normal pace. It’s okay if he’s jumping and pulling. This is new and he’s been living the bad version of la vida loca. Patience. Once he’s gone potty find a nice place to sit and quietly give him focused attention. Exercise is a good thing, but shelter dogs need quiet “down time” more than anything. And if it’s with a human being (you) all the better. Just sit quietly and observe. Breathe. Loosen your shoulders. Wait for the dog to calm with you. This may take a while. Say nothing.

If the dog looks at you, smile and in a gentle cooing voice say “good.” When you pet him, do so gently and slowly. You’ll find it’s very easy to accidentally get him wound up again. That’s okay. Start over. Once he starts to calm again, whisper “good boy” or “very nice.” The words are less important than the sound of them, soft and relaxing. Imagine the dog laying down at your feet, drifting into the first relaxing moment he’s had all week. Pet with long gentle strokes, no scratching or tussling. Good. Treats for eye contact, sitting or laying down are fine. But you might notice food is arousing to the dog as well.

This calming technique is great for dogs in foster care or ones freshly adopted from shelters. It’s a perfect way to just chill out with a dog who’s otherwise been wound up all day. I do it with my own dog. And I recommend it for every dog you visit at the shelter. If you’re lucky enough to interact with the same dog more than once, see if you notice a change in his reaction to you. Most adopting families want a dog who can settle down and do nothing with them. And sure enough, that’s exactly what you’re teaching your shelter dogs. Do nothing. And enjoy.

Trainer, Heal Thyself

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

The truth is trainers make the worst clients when it comes to training our own dogs. We’re great with other people’s dogs. Our own dogs, however, often leave a lot to be desired. There, now the dirty little secret is out. Here’s the other secret. I have some problems with my dogs.

Okay, they aren’t bad problems, and I won’t bore you with the details. Still, I decided I needed to pull in some help from other trainers to get my head on straight. It got me to thinking, how do you choose a good trainer?

You can find information online about choosing a good trainer, but here’s how a trainer chooses a trainer.

First, I wanted someone with experience. Education and book knowledge are essential, but years of success on the front lines are invaluable. In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell found that 10 years of actual work in a particular profession is what it took to be an “expert.” I buy that, so 10 years was my benchmark.
Second, I wanted a trainer who knew his or her behavior science. Training fads come and go, but sound, proven behavior science endures the test of time. My trainer had to be fluent in the science of Learning Theory.
Third, my trainer had to have a track record among his or her peers. I specifically gravitated towards two independent certifications, Certified Professional Dog Trainer and Certified Dog Behavior Consultant. Certifications from dog training schools tend to promote the school from whence they came. They don’t carry the weight of an independent third party certification.
Finally, don’t frighten or hurt my dog. Those things have no place in training. Do wrong by my dog and you’re fired. Period.

I hate to be the bad guy here, but there aren’t many people who meet all those qualifications. Plus, there’s a lot at stake here. I got a “professional courtesy,” but trainers can be expensive. More importantly, we’re putting the well-being of our beloved dogs in their hands. It’s important to do the extra work and find the right person to help you with your dog.

Who did I choose? I really should make you wait until next month’s issue, but I won’t. I called my good friends at DogSmart here in Katy. My colleague, Peta Clarke, in Australia also lent her expertise. Now you may want to know, how are my dogs doing? They’ll be just fine, so long as I’m a good client and practice what I preach.

( originally published in Texas Cats & Dogs Magazine )

Position Statement on Training

I remember trying to trim Juno’s nails. She was struggling, and unsure about what was happening. I was following the rules I’d learned in my introductory dog training class. When she resisted I rolled her on her side and growled. Juno, bless her sweet soul, looked at me like I was an idiot. She wiggled her way away from me. When I caught her, I gave her a scruff shake and growled once more. We struggled again; she got away again. After a couple more rounds of that I was both exhausted and defeated. Juno sneezed and shook it off. She came up to me, and gently placed her paw on my leg. Slowly and gingerly I trimmed the four nails.

That was so many years ago, and Juno is now just a flurry of sweet memories and training parables. Good training, she taught me, is about give and take, push and yield, you and me. It’s less about where you are going or what you’re trying to achieve than about who you are with. It’s about the relationship. Juno and I found our way, together. The path was not always clear, but she was by my side and I by hers.

My sidekick now is Stella and we are both better because of those who came before us. We live by a few training rules, and share them with our clients. The most important of these is the simplest. Everything we share should lead us to a closer relationship with each other. I sometimes call it, the Juno rule. Yelling and sulking on my part draws us apart (I never hit). For her part, yelling (barking) and jumping are also nonstarters. We avoid those things. Sitting and gazing at each other draw us closer. We both do that shamelessly. Pulling on leash is not relationship building. I’m as careful not to do it as she is. Learning to communicate with my words and her actions is bonding. We do that a lot. As is the case with my human friends, the sharing of play and food factor mightily into our relationship. We cuddle, and kiss, and nap together. All these things draw us closer.

Stella and I are always building things. We’re building a faster recall now. We put together a little comedy routine that makes it look like she “speaks” several languages. We’re building some agility skills (she’s much better than I am). We’ve also built a work partnership, and she’s begun helping me with mildly reactive and under-socialized dogs (not bad for a 20 month old). We’re using some of the same techniques we use in that work to help Stella build confidence when people visit our home. She’s not too sure of visitors, especially if they’re wearing a hat.

I think these building projects help draw us closer too. They fall under the Juno rule, but they also have two general rules of their own. 1) No matter what we’re working on, I have Stella’s back. It’s my job to make sure she’s safe and that she feels safe. Most of the time that means I’m cheering her on and keeping the mood light, without pushing her too far on any given project. 2) I’m responsible for clearly and gently showing Stella what I want, and then joyfully letting her knows when she got it right. Timing is everything, so I don’t dawdle. My deal with Stella is this: when you do something I want I will let you know immediately. So it all boils down to this – we set up some fun times which aren’t at all scary or too difficult. Then we figure out things we can do to make each other happy. How’s that for a cool relationship?

Oh, on the subject of nail trimming, Stella and I have a deal too. We do it just the way Juno used to like it. Go figure. Her spirit is always with us.