Swim Stella, Swim!

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

“This dog can’t swim.” That’s what I thought as I watched her struggle, bob and tip in the pond. I was about to jump in the murky water myself when I saw Stella briefly roll onto her back and then right herself. She stepped gleefully to the shore, shook off, dropped her ball, and looked up at me. She had no idea how pathetic she had looked.

Of course, I was concerned. Stella had swum before, albeit briefly. But, this last time was different. Physics failed her. She listed to one side, nearly sank, and then went keel up. She was wholly out of her element, and I’d so wished her element was water. I wanted it badly; I wanted it with every memory of the retriever before her, with every hope of the retriever I dreamt she would become. That was the problem. This wasn’t about me. It was about Stella; and Stella couldn’t swim.

I tried to get my brain around it. Maybe it really was bad physics. Stella’s chest is unusually deep and her waist is unusually small. She’s narrow, very narrow. She’s tall and long, unnaturally so. Her face and coat say retriever, but the rest of her says whippet or Italian greyhound. Okay if I’m going to be brutally honest, if you catch her at the wrong angle the whole package screams “cartoon dog.” Maybe her body just wasn’t built for water; maybe she was too lean, too spindly. Maybe she just couldn’t swim.

When my heart’s breaking, I write. So, I wrote some veterinarian friends of mine. No, they said. There’s nothing wrong with Stella. She is quirky beautiful and fully buoyant. I wrote to a local dog swim coach (who knew?) and she said the same thing. Some dogs are naturals, others are not. Stella can learn. She can swim.

I can’t explain what happened next. Sometimes there’s no way to fix a thing set askew. Then again, sometimes there’s no holding back a thing intent on setting itself right. Stella’s new coach is an affable woman in the middle of life, with an easy smile and a gentle feel for a dog’s spirit. She welcomed us to a long glistening pool in the early light of day. “Does Stella like toys?” she asked. “Tennis balls” I answered. The rest was unstoppable. It was the simple magic of letting things happen, letting go, swimming with the current of the moment.

Stella waded into the pool for her ball, and brought it back. On the second throw, she leapt across the shallow slope into the deep. Stella’s head slipped under and then popped up high in the water, a bow splashing and awkward, and a stern dragging too low. Her coach moved with deft purpose, the subtle speed of a woman who knows her craft. She righted Stella’s hips, bringing them level to withers just below the water’s crest. Stella sailed with ease back to the shallows and out. She dropped the ball and looked back at what she’d swum.

222531_224371824265357_107851415917399_539116_2541228_n — courtesy: Rummy's Beach Club

I threw again. Again she leapt and swam. Again, and again Stella’s body stretched, and her head skimmed the break where water meets air. Her legs tucked naturally, fronts propelling, backs adjusting for balance. She used her thick retriever tail like a rudder. Stella leapt and swam. She moved with ease and grace, ball firmly in mouth, eyes gleaming in the morning sun, nowhere to be but here, nothing in mind but now. Stella leapt again and then swam some more. She panted and pushed hard against the water, a wake behind her. The air was sweet with the smell of wet dog and abandon. I moved up beside her and kissed her cheek. I would have loved her the same no matter, but oh how I love my water dog.

We stayed on like that until we were both soaked through, swimming together.

The Science of Dog Training

Michael Baugh CDBC

Some things trainers teach are simply their opinion. Others are the opinions shared among many trainers. Then there are the facts, verified and peer-reviewed. The latter is what this article is about: the science of dog training.

If your dog does something, and a well-timed favorable outcome follows that action, the behavior will happen more frequently in the future. Edward Thorndike served up that gem back in 1905. It’s been tested so many times it’s known as Thorndike’s Law of Effect.

We know this, too. We can give or withhold good things to influence our dog’s behavior. That’s the core thinking behind Skinner’s famous Learning Theory. Our dogs control their own behavior, but we can sway their choices. How cool is that? The dog jumps up; he gets nothing. The dog sits nicely; he gets something nice. What do we get? We get less jumping and more sitting. This is probably the most scientifically tested piece of psychology on the planet. Good things happen; behavior increases. Good things don’t happen; behavior decreases.

It gets better. We influence something else too. We can create cues in the environment, like certain words, hand signals, and situations, to trigger behaviors. It’s not trainer magic. It’s behavior science. The cue “sit,” for instance, informs the dog that something good might be afoot. He plants his booty on the ground because he’s learned that’s a safe bet. Bingo! Here comes the goodie. Sit, then, becomes a powerful word.

Okay, let’s geek out a little. All this boils down to A–B–C. That cue we were talking about is the “A.” It’s called an antecedent: the cue. The “B” is for behavior (what the dog does). The “C” is the consequence, giving or taking something away to influence a change in behavior. That’s Learning Theory. “A” (antecedent): Doggie, come! “B” (behavior) he runs to us. “C” (consequence): We throw his favorite ball for him to fetch. Brilliant! Now, here’s the rub. This process is still always in play. Our dogs are learning just about every waking hour, even when we’re not around. Check this out. “A” (antecedent): Leftovers on the counter. “B” (behavior): The dog lifts himself onto the countertop for a sniff. “C” (consequence): the whole thing ends in a tasty snack. Our dog just learned a new trick, and we had nothing at all to do with it.

Good dog trainers and behavior consultants know this stuff backwards and forwards. We’ve studied it, watched it at work, and applied it in the field. I won’t bore you with all the minutiae of contingency statements and functional analysis (okay, I might a little). Instead, let’s look at any behavior problem and ask: What is the dog actually doing? That’s the behavior itself, like jumping up on the counter. It’s not an interpretation of behavior like, “he’s dominant” or “he’s trying to get back at you.” (That’s non-science). Then, let’s ask, what’s triggering the behavior? There’s your antecedent, in this case the sight of the countertop itself. Now, what’s keeping the behavior going? Ah, the consequences! Sometimes there’s food up there.

Move a few puzzle pieces, and the picture changes. We can control antecedents and consequences. Adjust those, and sure enough, your dog changes his behavior. That’s what learning is all about. In this example, keeping the dog out of the kitchen is a good way to avoid the antecedent. Clearing the countertop removes the potential for a yummy consequence. Teaching the dog to put his nose to work elsewhere is even better.

Practice your ABCs. This science left the laboratory a century ago. Skinner’s students took it on the road in the 1940s, training animals for carnivals, movies, TV, and the military. Sea mammal trainers eat, breathe, and sleep it. It’s at work right now in your own home.

Applied well and gently, science-based training is the stuff of good communication with your dog. Applied lovingly, it’s the path to a deep and abiding friendship. Of course, that last part is simply my opinion.

Michael Baugh teaches dog training in Sedona and online to dog lovers worldwide. He specializes in fearful and aggressive dog behavior.

A Culture of Learning

_MG_1028 — Stella. Courtesy Robyn Arouty Photography

Michael Baugh, CPDT-KA, CDBC

Folks ask all the time, “How often should I train my dog?” I’d like to be able to say every day, all day; your dog is always learning. But people want structure so instead I recommend short sessions (clicker training) several times a day totaling 30 to 40 minutes a day. They are both the right answer. Still, I like the first one better.

Weave training into your everyday life. Make your relationship with your dog a culture of learning. That’s the best way. Now, I’m not really talking about making your dog wait for you to pass through a doorway first. It’s not about requiring him to sit and stay before you put his food bowl down. It’s not even about demanding he sit nicely instead of jumping on your guests. Don’t get me wrong. Those are all very nice manners to teach your dog. But, I’m talking about a different culture of learning, one that has nothing to do with making, requiring or demanding.

It’s about noticing. Here’s a little bit of dog-trainer-geek science. A behavior with a favorable outcome (for the dog) is more likely to be repeated. It’s called Thorndike’s Law of Effect. Scientists don’t hand out that word lightly: Law. Thorndike’s law of effect is just that, a law. It’s been proven, tested and re-tested. That gives you a lot of power when it comes to training. There are lots of favorable outcomes you control: food, playtime, petting, warm smiles and praise. That means you can get a lot of good behavior on the “repeat cycle” of your dog’s repertoire just by leveraging those favorable outcomes. It’s how clicker training works. Your dog does something cool. You click and treat. The dog does that cool thing more.

Okay, what does that have to do with noticing, specifically noticing your dog? Life doesn’t happen in 10 minute clicker training sessions. But our dogs are always learning from us and from the environment. Thorndike’s law of effect is always at play. That means it’s up to us to always be aware of what our dogs are doing, watching for good behavior that we can reinforce (favorable outcome), noticing. That’s the culture of learning I’m talking about. Notice when your dog does something right and be ready to let him know that’s what you like. Now you’re teaching your dog every day, all day.

This may seem difficult, but read on. We humans seem to be pre-programmed to notice when things go wrong not when things go right. While I was writing this my dog, Stella, came over to check in with me. I love that behavior but I ignored it. Later she started barking out the window and she earned my full attention. That’s the way people are, but it’s backwards training. Stella learned that checking in with me got her nothing (no favorable outcome) but barking got my attention (favorable outcome). I ended up on the wrong side of the law, Thorndike’s Law.

Notice. Your dog does great things every day. Never miss a chance to pet him when he sits nicely and gazes at your adoringly. Smile and rub his belly when he curls up at your feet. Throw a party when he comes when called. Then throw the ball and play for a little while. It’s worth it. And it’s a good way to live. Notice what’s right with your dog and be glad. Then notice the people in your life – even the ones you don’t know – and the world around you.

There’s a lot of good going on. Click and treat.