How Dog Training Makes us Better Humans

I come to this work with few ulterior motives. I’m certainly not being manipulative, nor am I conducting any mad scientist experiments (benevolent or otherwise). Admittedly though, there’s a warm satisfaction when I see what dog training does to people.

Training our dogs helps us a great deal. It’s no secret. This is a human endeavor. We benefit as much as our dogs. Reinforcement based (think non-coercive) training helps dogs make better decisions. It helps them behave better. The dog stays in his home, lives longer, and seems more joyful. Humans? Well, it’s a relief when the bad dog goes good. Win-win all around. Everyone’s happier.

But, in my experience, some other things are happening too. I’ve noticed a trend over these 25+ years in dog training. When a human being thinks about his dog differently, when he uses smiles and praise and food in training, when he sets aside his anger and force and restraint, something happens. There’s a change, not just in the dog. It’s a human change, sometimes subtle, but no less real.

This is what I’ve noticed:

We speak less and listen more. Of course, when we think of listening to our dogs, what we really mean is we watch them. Folks who’ve learned how to communicate with and teach their dogs using force-free methods do this a bit differently, though. We really watch our dogs, with soft attentive eyes, like we’re looking at a brilliant painting, or watching a fascinating film for the first time. All the stories we tell on our dogs, all the commands and admonitions, they all fall silent. We change. Not so much the dog, but the human, we change. We stop looking for error and evil and we see out our dog’s goodness, his correctness, and his best moments of simply being.

When we speak, our words flow from kindness. What else can we say? We notice our dogs differently; we speak better of them. They are two human behaviors naturally and inextricably connected. See goodness of being; speak the same. And we smile. We celebrate our dogs with food and play and quiet moments. We connect at a level that seems sometimes hard to explain to others.

And then we cross the line. This is the part so many of us never saw coming. We learn how to be and how to act with our dogs. Our dogs learn how to be and how to act with us. They reflect the lesson back and teach us and before long, so often, the lesson spills over. I’ve seen it happen firsthand. It’s real—inexplicable, maybe—and also undeniable. We treat each other differently. So much in the habit of seeking and supporting goodness, celebrating the actions we love from the beings we love, we do it more. We watch each other with soft attentive eyes. We speak to each other from a place of kindness. It’s God’s work or Dog’s work. Backwards and forwards, it is what it is.

I’ve left people’s homes too many times with butterflies in my gut and an impish (smug?) smile on my face for it to be mere coincidence. Dogs on the line, we trainers know all about them. Families on the line, we talk too little about them. I’m not being manipulative. But once the door is opened, it’s hard to shut. See for the first time how reinforcement changes not only your dog’s behavior but also how you feel about your dog, and you won’t soon forget it. See how it helps create long-lasting nurturing relationships with your fellow humans, with the people you love, and it’s nothing less than life changing. How could it not be?

I’ve seen it happen, witnessed it firsthand too many times for it to be my imagination. After just a few sessions, the dog softens, improves, becomes a better version of himself. But don’t think I didn’t see the other things too: the child and parent smiling and working together, the man in love with his wife more so now because she loves his dog, the family listening—taking turns—encouraging each other, just like they do with the dog.

I’m no mad scientist. In fact, I take no credit. It’s like I tell my clients. I just have some information. You get to make all the decisions. This is all you.

Michael teaches dog training in Houston, TX. He specializes in helping families with fearful and aggressive dogs.

Is Love Enough?

Michael Baugh CDBC, CPDT-KSA

For those of us who know dogs, really know them, the love comes easily. And for those involved in the hard and difficult work of rescue and sheltering, there is no shortage of love. It’s what fuels us, what keeps us going day after day. It’s what sees us through the anguish and the tears to get out once again and rescue and shelter some more. Love is the thing. But is it enough?

Psychiatrist Aaron Beck was writing about human relationships when he jumped to the answer. His book from the late 80’s was called Love is Never Enough. His idea was for people, especially couples, to use the tools of cognitive therapy to improve their lives together. Listen. Separate out feelings (at least don’t jump to feelings first). Be mindful. Love was not enough. It never was. We had to think as well.

What would Aaron Beck say about those of us who rescue and shelter dogs? Do we love too much? Does our love ricochet us into darker emotions, sadness, anger, hate, and despair? Does it paralyze us; keep us from acting at all because the problem of abandoned and suffering dogs is just too big? That was my story up until recently. Is love not only “never enough,” but is it also sometimes what gets in the way of doing the work? I won’t speculate on what Dr. Beck would say.

Here is what we do know, the sad facts:

Too many dogs are abandoned or born into homelessness. In Houston the numbers are huge.
These dogs suffer from health issues ranging from mange to broken bodies to heartworms. Most rescue groups raise funds for the proper medical treatment for all of the animals in their care.
Nearly every one of these dogs also suffers from behavior problems ranging from poor manners to extreme fear of humans to aggression toward humans or other dogs. Very few rescue groups provide professionally structured behavior care for any of their animals.

That last point interests me the most. Here’s why. 89.7% of dogs end up in shelters in the first place because of behavior problems (Wells and Hepper 2000). My colleague, Carolyn Grob, presented this bit of data and more at a recent Project Rusty Seminar in Houston (more about Project Rusty in a moment). So, we know going into this that at least 89% of dogs in rescue and shelters are there because of behavior problems. We know it like we know they have mange or a broken leg or heartworms.

Connecting the dots is pretty easy. If we help the dogs in our care learn better behavior, we increase the chance that their adoption will be successful and lasting. We justify the time and expense involved the same way we justify medical treatment. Adopters don’t want a mangy dog. Guess what? They don’t want a rude freaked out dog either.

So, let’s get back to the love. Won’t love and a little time heal most behavior issues, like fear and aggression? The short answer is no. In fact, with many dogs the problems just get worse. Can’t a dog learn to trust humans again? Yes, of course. But love and time are not enough, not really, not ever. And let’s not even talk about the jumping and leash pulling and other crazy hyper goofy behavior. Add some well-intentioned love and that unruliness can turn into downright rude-dog stuff. But, I digress.

What would Beck say? I’m not sure, but I have an idea. What if we step back from a moment and give this behavior thing some thought? We won’t stop loving. We’ll just starting thinking a bit. Let’s be mindful about training and behavior. There’s a process to treating medical issues right? There has to be a process for helping dogs act better and feel better around their new humans. (Of course there is, said the trainer).

In fact, there’s a time-honored and well-tested process for teaching animals how to act and feel better. It boils down to showing the dogs in our care that their behavior (their actions) matter. Good things happen when they behave a certain way (the way we like). Nothing much good happens when they don’t. Because we’re using rewards (reinforcement) like food and play, we’re also teaching the dogs that we humans are safe, nice in fact. We won’t get bogged down in the technical terms like Learning Theory and Classical Conditioning. We can just think of it like this. We teach the dogs what works for them in our crazy human world – and at the same time we teach them that we’re not all that crazy after all. Humans are pretty darn good it turns out.

The process is not hard. It can be fun once we get the hang of it. But, it’s not magic either. We have to show up, and we have to put in some effort. Get the dog out of the crate, into a space where we can interact with him one-on-one, and let’s start training. It’s like taking the dog to the vet for medical care, equally important, but with less hassle. Forget Aaron Beck for a moment. Here’s what trainer educator Ken Ramirez from The Shed Aquarium says: Training isn’t a luxury. It’s an essential part of daily animal care.

“Wait a minute”, you might say, “I’m not a trainer.” Well, that’s where Project Rusty comes in. That’s the group I mentioned a little bit ago. Project Rusty is a nonprofit organization in Houston with a mission to teach shelter staff and rescue volunteers how to be trainers. The truth is, you are already teaching the dogs in your care every day. Every waking minute they are learning, not just from you but also from your family, the cat, the bird, and of course from the other dogs in your home. The question isn’t whether or not they’re being trained (they are). The question is are they learning the stuff we want them to learn. Probably not.

Let’s change that. In the months and years ahead Project Rusty will be rolling out programs to help shelters and rescue groups better care for the behavioral health of their dogs. We’ve actually already started with interactive seminars. The next step will be more intensive learning programs for rescue groups, some of which are already in development. There will also be online resources for staff, volunteers and the general public. If behavior is the problem, then we will be the solution. All of us. Together.

So where’s the love? I can only speak for myself on this one. I love my dogs. I love some of my client’s dogs too, and most came from shelters and rescue groups. I write about love and compassion and hope and all the soft stuff. I’m that guy. Is love enough? Maybe not. But, maybe that’s also not the right question. Maybe the question is how do we love these dogs? What is the thing? What is the stuff of love? For me it’s the moment I look at a dog and understand and know in my heart and in my brain that she understands too. It’s communication, clichéd as that sounds. It’s learning and teaching and blurring the lines between the two. Who’s training whom?

Love is a verb.

When I’m training with my dog I am loving my dog. It’s in my actions, and hers too I think. Teaching is loving. Learning and teaching more is loving more. And, if that’s so then loving is the thing, loving thoughtfully with our actions. It’s what we do, mindfully and wholeheartedly? Can we ever really get enough?

Michael will be leading an interactive presentation about this topic on May 4th in Houston. Visit his Houston Dog Training Events page for more information.

Just Plain Ordinary Dogs

Michael Baugh CPDT-KSA, CDBC

It always comes down to this for me. Would I live with that dog? You see, I don’t endorse dogs for adoption lightly; that’s bad business for dog trainers. If I’m going to put my name behind a dog, he or she has to be a dog I’d honestly and freely welcome into my own home. I’m also not the kind of dog trainer who adopts rehab cases. I want to live with a just-plain typical dog, magical yes, but in the way ordinary dogs find magic by settling deep into your heart.

My dogs are those kind of dogs. They are mutts, as we used to call such gifts, mixed breeds of questionable origin. But, this isn’t really about them. It’s not about my adopting a dog either; our house and our hearts are full. This is about other ordinary dogs, magical dogs with no home, mutts whose origins and looks draw their worth into question. They are dogs who’ve touched my heart and even now risk breaking it.

When I posted pictures of Tara and Oreo on my facebook page, my brother posted only one question about them. “Are they pit bull mixes?” The question made me angry, and at first I wasn’t exactly sure why. My answer to him was staid. Breed identification based on visual observation is only about 30% accurate. He didn’t reply.

I met Tara and Oreo more than two months ago. They were scrappy adolescent dogs pulled from the streets of the Corridor of Cruelty in Houston and placed directly into a boarding facility. Oreo was literally a mangy mutt, black and white, slightly squared at the jaw. Tara was and is brown and muscular with a blocky head and slanted amber eyes. My job was to assess them and a third dog, a shepherd mix named Skipper, for a program called Project HEEL. The program places homeless dogs from Corridor Rescue Inc. with teenage boys in the custody of The Harris County Juvenile Probation Department. When I first met them, the three dogs ran amok and were definitely untrained. Nevertheless, they got along well and within a week they were sent off to a juvenile probation home in the rural reaches of a Houston Suburb.

It’s hard to ignore the parallels – tough-looking dogs with tough-looking teenage boys, all behind the double locked doors and barbed wire of the county. For the dogs and the boys both, the trouble is more about how they look, than what they’ve done or ever will do. The boys at least know what they’re up against when they get out. The dogs have no idea. Block headed, bully bodied, banned in some places. They are totally, if not blissfully, unaware of how hard it will be for them to find a place in this world, a home, a family.

Someone claimed Skipper, the shepherd mix, weeks before Project HEEL ended. Skipper’s leash will be handed to his new guardians at a graduation ceremony. No one will take Tara’s leash, or Oreo’s leash, the ones my brother summarily asked about. They will return to their crates, and if time runs out they will go back to the boarding facility to wait. I don’t know for how long. I also don’t know if they are pit mixes. It doesn’t matter. They look the part and that’s enough of a mark against them. And here’s the irony , bitter as it may be.

I’d live with either of these dogs, Tara, Oreo. I would if it weren’t for the dogs who’ve already claimed me. Tara, tough as she may look, with her muscled body and serious eyes, would have a place beside me – curled and pressed against my chest please. Oreo would learn tricks and accompany me on TV, the eager learner, the clown. I’ve looked at each of them squarely and asked myself soberly, would I live with that dog. The answer is yes. I’d put my name behind either of theirs, and let them settle into my heart to find the magic life of an ordinary dog.

I don’t endorse dogs lightly, but these are dogs with whom I’d live. Wouldn’t you? Won’t you? Please.