In my last post I discussed how to teach a dog to leave and walk away from something that he wanted to pursue.
The natural question is if leave, categorically, means he never gets access, or if means: Leave till further notice.
Opinions are split, as usual, but here is how I apply the command:
If there is a real risk that a dog will harm a person or animal, then leave has to mean access denied. Period. With absolute certainty, and you better be a darn good manager so that your dog, indeed, doesn’t get what he wants during the training phase.
For all others, though, such finality limits the command’s use. Sometimes, something or someone can become available after a leave cue, after I had a closer look, and I want the flexibility to change my mind.
For example, there could be dog in the distance I don’t recognize at first and want my dog to leave, but as he comes closer I see that it’s one she played with before.
Or there could be a stranger my dog wants to greet, but I need to ensure first that the person is okay with that.
Squirrels are initial leave-its, but when I see that it is safe for squirrel and dog, I allow mine to chase.
For me, having a reliable leave with the liberty to change my mind is the best of both worlds: It allows my dogs to have fun and socialize – something I take great joy in, but it is on my terms, not theirs.
It keeps them out of trouble, they practice self-control, and it strengthens our bond because they understand that access to things they want happen through me.
If your goal is the same, then, during the training phase, periodically let your dog have what he originally wanted and you initially told him to leave, but make sure that he waits for a release cue. I use get, my universal signal for: access granted.
And don’t let the dog get the original item every time, or he’ll expect that and becomes frustrated if, one time, he can’t have it. Realistically, a dog can’t always get what he wants. No matter how friendly yours is, not every person likes dogs – I know, hard to believe but true – and not every dog wants yours in his space.
So, don’t be so predictable: Sometimes, you offer something else, sometimes he gets that plus what he originally wanted, and sometimes he only gets what he originally wanted. Not only do you train against frustration, but you also raise your dog’s attention to you.
Leave works! It is, in my opinion, one of the fundamental commands and I teach it to almost every dog I meet. It is generally easy to teach, but periodically I encounter a dog where it’s less straightforward. Here are a few common hurdles and how to solve them:
- The dog is not interested in what you toss! Up the ante and use a higher valued treat, and/or play games with the food first.
- The opposite: The dog is so hyper-motivated by what you tossed that he cannot shift his focus. Lower the value. And feed your dog. Heck, if an animal has to jump through hoops for every piece of food, food becomes a really big deal and all he can think about. If your dog still can’t do it, you can name-prompt to give him a clue what you are after. I’d rather wait a dog out and let him find the behavior, but some dogs really do need the initial extra help.
- The dog is too scared to go for the tossed treat. That is typical fallout from punitive training methods. Because he experienced in the past that acting spontaneously it could hurt, he becomes too inhibited to offer behaviors, is stressed by the treat on the ground, and shuts down. In that case, you need to build the dog’s confidence first: Play, reinforce offered behaviors, and of course don’t use anything aversive.
- You are raising criteria too fast. Which means you take it to the next level before you mastered the present one. Don’t go from kibble to a hambone, or your dog might offer you a quick glimpse as a trick, but won’t be committed to leave the thing for good and walk away from it. Remember, it is commitment you want, so raise the bar gradually - and when you ask your dog to leave something he really wants, the reward has got to be similar to what he wanted to do away from you. If it was to chase a squirrel, don’t shove a cookie in his mouth, but play chase. If he wanted to play with a dog, then play with a toy or run with your dog.
The goal is that your dog will want to hear you say the cue. Then, don’t be surprised if he puts his own spin on it and uses it to solicit for rewards and interaction. Not kidding, whenever Davie and Will thought I was especially boring on a walk, they would hang the schnoz into something, typically scat or deer poop, and look at me a split second later, waiting for the leave command they enthusiastically and instantly heeded when it came. There is no other explanation. They weren’t collecting intelligence, they wanted some fun with me, and prompted it by trying to get me to say leave.
If your dog does that, it’s okay. He is not dominantly controlling you, he is thinking – and leaving whatever it is he shouldn’t have. Exactly what you want. Be proud and play along.
A few months ago we were dogsitting my friend’s then 6 months old Border collie for a couple of weeks. Our Will is 12, so having a pup in the house was fun. Especially a collie. My affinity for herding dogs is old news.
Of course our life was a tad jumbled - there is a striking difference between a juvenile, and a seasoned, wise dog, but everything went without a hitch, mainly because my friend had already taught her lad a bunch of things, including cahcah, her cue for leave it.
Born and raised in Germany, I was amused by her word choice: Kacke, stemming from the Latin cacare, is coarse German for feces and other repugnant things and situations, and kinda fits the purpose as a leave-it command, doesn’t it?
Leave, or cahcah if you like the word, stands for:
It is not available to you.
Forget it.
Not happening.
Shift your focus and, the way I teach it, walk away from it.
The purpose is clear: A generalized command that stops a dog from pursuing something that caught his eye, ear or nose.
Step One happens where you should teach every new behavior: In the home, the place of least distractions, with the dog on the 6-foot leash, and ideally on a body harness because there is likely going to be some lunging or pulling. Depending on the dog, a flat collar could also work, but we don’t want to use a choke or prong collar, or Gentle Leader type snoot-loop, where the dog only behaves to relieve discomfort and pain.
Have a handful of kibble handy, and some yummy treats. If you have good footing and control, step on the leash; otherwise hold it in your hands.
Toss a kibble out of reach, and when your dog focuses on it say your leave-cue in a lower, but not intimidating, tone. You don’t want to inhibit your dog’s motivation to learn and be with you, but don’t plead either. Tell.
Brace yourself. Depending on your dog’s degree of gusto, he might pull or lunge strongly toward the treat. Your job is to do nothing other than preventing him, via the leash, from accessing it. Don’t say a word and don’t tug on the leash, because we want our dog to self-learn that fixation, straining, barking and whining will NOT get him what he wants.
After about 20-30 seconds most dogs realize that and change their behavior, which is: Shifting their attention away from the treat. Catch that moment, and indicate with your higher-toned, upbeat voice, that he is on the right trail. It is not that important at this stage that your dog looks at you, only that he doesn’t look at the loot.
What is important, though, is that you don't mark and reward, because there is a second part to leave-it: The dog must walk away. Yes, I lump the two actions. I want looking away and walking away to be a habitual sequence, and every dog I have worked with gets it – albeit rarely straightaway.
What typically happens after I open my mouth with: “You got it, what a smart pooch…” is that he promptly zones in again on what’s on the ground - as if my voice alone is the release command. You simply repeat the lower-toned leave cue, and wait until he shifts his focus again. Most dogs are quicker this time, more ready to reorient to you, and to hold that attention for a moment. That connection is what you’re after. Now keep your dog engaged with you, then lean or take a step backward to check if he is willing to walk with you.
I want to stress that there must be a slack in the leash – that is why you need a 6-foot one, because we need walking away from something that caught his interest to be the dog’s choice. We want him to own that behavior, so that we will have it when he is off the leash.
As soon as your dog walks with you, a party begins: Be animated, playful, toss a few of the yummy treats as you continue to create distance to the one on the ground. If you can convince your dog that making that choice is more rewarding than the other thing, you’ll set the stage for voluntary compliance in the future regardless what it is you ask him to leave.
Practiced a lot, at one point your dog will skip the “looking at the loot” part, brilliantly thinking he can take a shortcut to the rewards you have. That is when you meanly throw him a curveball by incorporating a novel item, for example a toy, then a different food item, then another toy, and so on. Practice in various areas outside, and step by incremental step generalize the cue, so that it will be a universal one that prompts your dog to leave a cat, person, poop, squirrel, or another dog – even a sound he is hearing.
Shifting the focus and walking away from a stimulus on cue could be as automatic as you putting your foot on the brake when something darts in front of your car.
Question! Does cahcah mean you can’t have it until further notice, or you can’t - ever -have it?
I’ll answer that in the next post, plus share a few troubleshooting tips.
Separation anxiety is not a dog being bored and unruly or destructive because of it, but one who panics when left alone. Symptoms can include jumping, clawing or mouthing when the person is about to leave and when she re-enters, but commonly the expressions are more severe: considerable damage to doors, window frames or walls, urination and defecation in the house, ongoing loud vocalization.
Understandably, that is difficult to live with, and finding a solution a pressing issue. Unfortunately, there is no magic quick fix that makes a dog who feels unsafe, suddenly feel safe and relaxed when separated from her humans.
Popping the dog in the crate is not a viable answer. Rather than it being a refuge, the dog feels even more trapped and in an attempt to get out, could injure herself.
However, there are number of things that, in time, indeed enable a dog to deal with being left alone.
One of the best ways to make an animal feel safe is to reassure her that care is available when she needs it. With many micro exists and enters the dog experiences exactly that. If you return before she becomes unnerved, latest with the first whimper, she will increasingly feel more secure in her environment and ability to communicate, and then can be left for increasingly longer periods of time.
Don't leave your dog guessing, but provide information if she is coming or not. A precise word and gesture that tells her what is happening next makes events more predictable, and that can decrease anxiety. When my Will questioningly looks at me when I get ready to leave, I either grab her harness – the informational cue that we are taking her, or say seeya - our departure cue followed by the commonly used good-bye gesture. With the former, she excitedly moves to the door; with the latter she settles on her mat, discontent perhaps, but not distressed.
When you return, acknowledge your dog right away. Yes, I know that is against popular advice, but when you reunite, your dog is really happy to have you back, and that often starts when she hears the car, footsteps, or keys in the door. If you ignore her greeting, you raise frustration, and underlying tension builds. Obviously, when we are dealing with a dog who is already anxious, adding to it is counterproductive.
Acknowledging should be low-key. Ask your dog to perform a couple of tricks, or engage her in a hand-target game. That is structured interaction without overstimulation, she gets to do something with you and think, and because she learns that she gets a piece of you as soon as you walk in the door, she is less stressed and settles more quickly. After the initial hello, go about your business and direct your dog to a self-entertaining activity, and once everyone's settled, invite her for a longer walk or playtime.
What you do when you are home is as important as your exit and re-enter behaviors.
Never deprive your dog of attention, but you also want to create opportunities for her to have fun without you. If you constantly stroke and entertain your dog, you make yourself indispensable and will be sorely missed when you are gone.
In our home, we are very affectionate and interactive with the dogs, but there are times each day when I do human-only stuff, with the pooches allowed to hang around, but otherwise ignored. An always-accessible, well-stocked toy box is essential for a dog to learn to self-entertain, and also should be the go-to place to self-sooth.
Overly pampering a dog can create separation anxiety, but being inconsistent, overbearing, erratic or angry, in other words putting pressure on the dog, also does. Suzanne Clothier, author of “Bones Would Rain from the Sky”, said at one of her seminars that how dogs respond to dogs and people depends on how they know them. I’d like to add places to that. Places by extension. If the group the dog lives with feels safe, the place by association also does, and vice versa. So, make your home a refuge for your dog.
There is more you can do:
Return home at different times. Dogs develop an internal clock with a daily routine, and if you always come back at the same time, your dog will expect that and stress when you’re happen to be late.
Dogs connect the dots, and dogs with separation anxiety are hyper-aware of dots/cues that precede their person’s departure, and charge up long before the door closes behind them. Changing the routine can decrease that anticipatory agitation.
Leaving the radio or TV on during your absence can be a safety cue. Safety cues are anything that trigger a feel-good emotion, and can also include a filled Kong or safe chew toy. In addition, background sound tunes out outside noises, and your dog won’t wind up with every sound she hears, thinking it is you. Introduce the safety cue when you are home, then when you are in another room, then when you exit the front door but re-enter right away, then gradually increase the time you are gone.
The D.A.P. collar or diffuser releases appeasing pheromones and is marketed as easing dogs’ anxieties. Good pet stores and veterinary clinics carry them, and also other natural products such as Biocalm. They don’t replace behavior modification, but can take the edge off and accelerate success.
What about another dog for companionship? Although I have had clients where this worked, it can also backfire: There is a real risk that anxiety spills over to the initially problem free dog. As well, some dogs are only interested in their human and won’t accept a canine replacement.
All of the outlined steps should happen simultaneously, not consecutively. The good news is that with patience, most dogs will improve. However, sometimes the temporary use of psychopharmacological drugs is necessary. Your friendly holistic veterinarian or veterinary behaviorist can help you with that.
If you know me personally, read my book, or follow my blog posts, you might have a faint idea that I am not a doggie micromanager and abhor obedience for obedience sake. That doesn’t take away from the fact that people, including me, who are in charge of a dog’s welfare and liable for her conduct, must be able to influence or induce her actions when necessary.
That is what commands are for, and which ones you teach is ultimately up to you. Safety first, but aside from that you really do not have to pay attention to what other people believe how a dog should behave. Every dog/human relationship is unique, and if it works for you, it works.
For instance, I don’t care if there is a little tension on the leash because then I don’t trip over it, but because I love to live life off the leash, and want to offer that to my dog, reliable halt, come and leave are paramount, and I put a lot of effort into mastering these skills.
Before someone gets the wrong idea, we do observe leash laws – mostly, and I am not suggesting for a minute to forgo any kind of leash work, just that my time with my dogs is better spent than practicing heel to obedience-rink-style perfection. But if that turns your and your dog’s crank, than do that. Trained without pressures, any activity can be quality time and satisfying mental stimulation for your dog.
So, do what matters to you, and have the confidence to stand behind it. That said, there are several commands, when solid, that just about ensure that life with the pooch is pleasurable. Proactively taught, they keep the dog out of trouble, and are also the principle ones I use when dealing with behavioral issues.
Name Attention: When Will hears her name, she connects with me and arrives on the scene because she knows that what I do next involves her somehow. That’s what the name is for, and it could be the dog’s recall command at the same time. Some use the name in that sense, but I like a separate come cue cause it is not always necessary for Will to come all the way back, only to pay attention what I cue next.
Come: Self-explanatory.
Give: Means open your mouth and drop whatever is in it.
So, give is different than leave – the latter is to stop a dog from accessing something, the former to release something after the fact.
Halt: Means don’t continue to move in the direction you are moving and wait till I catch up, but you don’t have to look at me.
Touch: Is targeting the hand and very briefly touching it with the nose. It has several real life applications, but one is to bring four paws on the floor when your excited dog jumps on you – or to channel jumping in case you own a young boxer.
Settle: Means park yourself somewhere, ideally on a specific mat, and hang out. You may choose the position and change it, just don’t move.
In day-to-day life, whether a dog sits or lies is irrelevant, but I still teach a down and sit separately.
Beep-Beep: The dog backs up – like a truck. Children love to train that, and it is fun for the dog as well. The practical use is… Well, have you ever entered your home with your hands full of groceries? But it can also jog your dog’s memory what she could do if an out-of-control toddler makes her uneasy, or to prompt her away if she infringes someone’s space.
Leave: Means shift your focus away from whatever caught your interest and walk away from it.
If you are thinking with me, you may have noticed that leave isn’t actually a Do That Action command, but a Do Not Do That Action one. Technically, if you have a variety of really reliable Do That Action cues, you wouldn’t need leave, would you? You’d just prompt the dog in the behavior she should be doing instead of targeting that cat or sniffing the pile of poop. But in real life, a solid leave is handy, and I like it and teach it – in a way that my dog feels good when she hears it.
So here they are, the words I think every dog should know.
Certainly, if you’re ambitious you can teach a lot more than that. Our Will also understands: Over, This Way, Forward, Behind, Follow, Find, Get, Take - and the last three are distinct behaviors, Cross (the road), and a cue that conveys that I’m beyond happy cause she nailed it: Yay as in “you’re so awesome – I love you”.
Aussie Davie knew a bunch of Rally O’ positions in addition to that, and both dogs learned to comprehend a few cues not meant to bring forth a specific action, but to provide information about the present situation.
Later means not right now but feel free to check back in a moment, and All-Done means no interactions with me for a while.
All-done is binary information, the off-switch, and opposite to name attention, which is the dog’s on-switch. I’ll mention binary information again when I chat about the word No.
It’s Just is a relaxing cue that stands for: Don’t worry about it, it is not going to harm you, and if you use it you’ll better make sure that whatever your dog is concerned about indeed doesn’t come closer.
Brilliant, sweetly spoken, tells my dog that she’s on the right track and meant to encourage her to keep doing what she’s doing. The same word enveloped in a number of other soppy ones maintains my dog’s attention.
Lastly, quick spoken staccato-like in a higher pitched voice eggs my dog on to move faster. I use it when we cross the road and she lags, or when she’s on her way back to me when called.
Many words, eh? I know, but I haven’t met a dog yet who doesn’t have the potential to learn them, if you teach them. I admit, depending on you and your dog, it may take some time, but trust me: It is worth the effort.
Do dogs understand words?
It seems so. We all know dogs that make the connection between word that is always used in the same context, and a certain event, subject or object that is relevant to them: Walk, leash, car, cookie, kitty, park…
However, up until recently the scientific sticking point was if dogs actually comprehend the word, or pick up non-verbal cues at the same time and respond to that. Professional opinions are still split, but we’re getting increasingly more evidence that, indeed, dogs are capable of understanding our human verbal cues.
You might have heard of Chaser, the Border collie who knows 1022 words, independently confirmed.
Alexandra Horowitz, in “Inside of a Dog”, says that the sound we make carries meaning for our dog; that dogs have the cognitive ability to understand words they learned as important information for them.
And Claudia Fugazza, an Italian scientist and trainer who does groundbreaking, and fascinating, work with dogs’ social learning abilities, states that a cue given verbally has mental representation for the dog. She says that almost every dog she worked with was able to learn to distinguish between words, but also says that the verbal aptitude depends on the dog’s experience with words. Sadly, many dogs have little experience.
A chief peeve I have with the famous TV pack leader is that he doesn’t verbally communicate with the dogs he interacts with – although that isn’t quite true cause he does use the “tsst” sound as a threat. Famous means that many dog owners follow his guff and dismiss a whole segment of information transfer, and as a result there is a gap, or abyss, or complete breakdown, in communication between dog and person, which adversely affects the relationship and the dog’s welfare, and ultimately behavior. You can bet on that.
But it’s not only the Whisperer who doesn’t speak to dogs. Disappointingly, some positive reinforcement trainers’ goal also is a dog who is watchful and attuned to his human’s non-verbal gestures and movements, aligning his actions accordingly. Even though it is more pleasant for the dogs because they’re not shocked and collar corrected, they are still missing out on an important part of communication.
Teaching cues in words is not just a theoretical concept. It has real life practical advantages: You are heard, you lower stress, and your dog stays attentive and learns better.
Newsflash! Words also work when your dog is NOT watching you. Dogs can split attention and still know you exist even if they don’t look at you. Yes, of course we want the pooch to offer eye contact a whole lot, but to expect that he completely blocks out every stimulus that is part of the world he lives in, and only fixates on the handler, is unrealistic, and a bit narcissistic.
And whenever he doesn’t look at you, you’re out of luck with your non-verbal signals. They are not received.
Words are information, and information lowers stress. Christina Maslach, researcher at the University of California at Berkeley, found that one of the strongest predictors for job related stress and burnout is a vacuum of information from the top down. In the human/dog relationship, you’re the top, so give helpful cues when the dog needs them. You could argue that information transfer can be non-verbal, and you’d be correct, but the thing is that we humans are a wordly species, and often more precise when we speak instructions.
When you use your voice in a supportive way, it becomes an emotional feel-good trigger and then, regardless what it is you say, it puts your dog at ease when he is nervous.
Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods in “Genius of Dogs” state that several studies showed that talking while demonstrating a solution to a problem helps dogs pay attention and learn better.
So babble away to keep your dog engaged and relaxed, but when you give a direct instruction, one word precision is best, spoken once, then giving the dog a chance to respond, but helping him if he doesn’t understand.
Helping sometimes means adjusting the situation, but often repeating the word works. Repeating is okay, but verbal diarrhea isn’t. The difference is that with the former you give the dog a chance to think and act, and the latter is an irritating staccato-like: down-down-down-down…” or whatever it is you’re teaching.
You can also help with a gestural hint, so don’t shelve non-verbal communication altogether. Use your words, and your body, and your eyes to communicate. All is valuable social information for your dog.
You build cue/action awareness every time you connect a word and non-verbal signal with the specific action. If you want your dog to respond to both, Claudia Fugazza advices that the time between word and gesture should not be more than ½ second, but should not overlap. Whether you use the word or gesture first depends: When you teach a new behavior with luring, the gesture naturally comes before the word; when you follow Fugazza’s “Do As I Do” social learning protocol, it’s first the verbal cue, then the gesture.
The take-away message is that it is foolish to deny a species that has receptive human language skills the opportunity to learn words. Talk with your dog. It’s what many people already do anyway. That is how we are programmed. Now we have scientific evidence that it’s a good thing.
The more you talk with purpose, the more sensitive your dog will be to your voice. He really is bilingual, and will get better the more you do it. He’ll soon listen for words he’s learned and are relevant to his life, and respond to them – and to you.
The term cue has replaced command with a certain group of trainers. Commonly understood, a command is an order, backed with the threat of an unpleasant consequence for disobedience, and hence out of vogue with the force free crowd. They want to distance themselves from the trainers who still – blech – use compulsion to get a dog to do their bidding, and disapprove not just of command, but several other words that were and are used regularly, and I’ll elaborate on sometime in the future.
Without compromise, I am force free. Choke and prong collars are archaic, and shock collars outright inhumane; were they not, they wouldn’t be banned in several countries and people wouldn’t go to prison for using them on a child.
Nevertheless, I use both cue and command, because a cue is much more than a direct instruction we give our dog, but also that.
Animals, including dogs, act based on information they receive from the environment and information retrieved from the brain. A cue connects a situation with the corresponding memory - it is a stimulus that reminds, prompts the animal into a certain action.
Anything can be a cue a dog will respond to: The fleeing rabbit, a piece of garbage on the road, a barking dog, the mailman approaching. In fact, environmental cues can be very potent action triggers, and we need to understand that, at that moment, the dog has no choice but to act. He isn’t behaving badly to piss you off, but because he can’t help it.
Fortunately we humans are a brainy species. We are able to teach our dogs our own cues, you could call commands, and why we should is obvious: Dogs who live in a human social setting have a better quality of life when they follow human social rules.
Successfully done, my dog will discriminate between cues, and defer to the one I give. In other words, my cue overrides whatever out there catches her attention and interest. That’s what we call obedience, and I want it. Every dog owner does.
Dogs are not egalitarian. Absolutely, we have a moral, unfortunately in our lands rarely a legal, obligation to meet their needs, but someone has to call the shots, and with dogs that live with us, it’s us.
We are in control of what our dog wants, we have the vision for the future, we set the course for the relationship, and we need to explain to the dog how his, sometimes complex and changing, world functions and what role he has in ours. Cues do exactly that. They are our communication line to our dog, and regardless if you say cue or command, it should never feel bad.
Alexandra Horowitz, in her book “Inside Of A Dog”, talks about a study that found that when owners used commands during a play activity, the dogs had a higher cortisol level after the session compared to dogs who got to play freely without any demands put on them. I don’t want that. I don’t want that my cues raise my dog’s stress, and yet when I give a command, I expect my dog to heed it.
How can we marry the two?
By rights, it shouldn’t be difficult. Dogs, unlike wolves, are genetically programmed to look to humans for information. Dogs have an evolutionary history with humans that wolves don’t have, and puppies, even when they have closer contact with littermates than people, offer eye contact and follow human gesturing from a very young age on.
Brian Hare and Vanessa Wood, in “Genius of Dogs”, write: “Dogs dependence on our social information makes them more like infants than wolves.”
The problem is that instead of taking advantage of, and building on, dogs’ proclivity to take their cues from humans, many treat a dog in a way that turns our presence, words and gestures into a stress triggers.
Humans can royally mess things up, and as a result we have variations how inclined the individual dog is to seek his human’s cues. Breed can play a role, but also life experiences: Left on their own a lot, dogs understand that stimuli and useful information comes from the environment and that’s where their attention will go, and dogs punished and deliberately presented with stressors, including when micromanaged and never permitted to live out their intrinsic drives, learn to resist and avoid us, and then we have to artificially bribe or demand the attention that should come so naturally.
How do we do things better, so that indeed our cues will override environmental ones, and the dog will listen to us without feeling stressed?
I’ll chat about it in various future posts, but there are three critical aspects:
Don't intimidate, threaten and hurt when you teach a dog what your cues mean.
The clearer a signal is for the dog, the less he will gamble when he has the choice between several options. One cue for one behavior, and make sure your dog knows it and hears you.
And we have to give the cue proactively. Duh! I score little leadership points each time I provide a concrete roadmap that helps my dog solve life’s natural pressures, and the more she trusts, the more she’ll look for cues when in doubt, including when she walks ahead of me off the leash and references back which direction to take at crossing paths. She could just follow the scent cue that’s most enticing, but she doesn’t.
People fail in all areas, but often aren't even aware of the importance to be proactive. They wait until the dog makes a choice and then react, and punish if they don't like the choice.
The information our dogs seek and we provide must come via gestures and words, not the collar or leash. A prong collar is not a steering tool, my voice and body are.
To prevent that cues are relayed through the leash, some trainers recommend hands-free ones, which is great other than running the risk to lose footing when a powerful and not yet well enough trained dog bolts. I acquired a nice scar exactly like that. So, I prefer leash in hand, but teach my clients not to use it to communicate. Chances are that during a dog’s lifetime the owner will be holding a leash in their hand, so they better learn what it is, and isn’t, for.
Of course, the leash in itself many dogs respond to because it is a cue that something is about to happen. Commands are what we deliberately teach, but cues are also something the dog picks up and connects in our day-to-day routines. We are often unaware until we notice a pattern – the dog responding in a certain, habitual way triggered by us doing something customarily.
Sometimes it takes awhile, like Will who halts at always the same spot in our neighborhood to have her leash clipped back on, and sometimes a dog connects the dots very quickly, like our Aussie boarder who settled at my feet each morning when I opened my laptop. I didn’t cue in any other way, and also did not reinforce it.
The above-mentioned behaviors, of course, are great, but dogs also make connections that backfire. One experience, if it impacts the dog badly enough, can trigger a strong aversion response when the cue presents itself again. Although the aversion is typically expressed in behaviors we don't want, a dog can also perform flawlessly if that is the only way he can avoid or stop the bad thing. That is why shock collars work - with some, but that has nothing to do with dogs' natural predisposition to seek help and information from humans.
The only way to foster that is to be mindful of the cues we expose our dogs to: The commands we teach and how we use them, and the cues that are part of their environment.
Humans find it tremendously important that a dog sits. There is a shock collar franchise named Sit Means Sit, and one of my friends, a committed positive reinforcement only clicker trainer, co-founded a training facility named Sit Happens.
A dog that sits is serious stuff and everyone, other than some show breeders, trains it – and trust me: “Everyone” in dog circles doesn’t happen a whole lot.
One does not need to ponder long why that fixation. A dog that sits can’t jump, lunge or otherwise get himself into trouble at the same time. The other attraction is that it is easy to teach. Every trainer, layperson or shelter volunteer can do it.
An incompatible behavior to the ones we loathe, and easily trained? There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with that? Right?
Wrong! Well, somewhat wrong. I argue that sit is not only irrationally overrated, but can backfire. Let me explain.
I’ve been professionally involved with dogs for almost two decades, and increasingly see more and more dogs who mechanically sit when I enter the home, but latest after they sniffed that I am treat-equipped. That’d be okay if it were a loose-bodied, settled sit. But mostly it is not. Mostly it is a stiff like a statue sit, the dog boring a hole in my head, tensely demanding the treat he excepts should follow the action of putting his butt on the ground.
When I don’t respond right away, the behavior changes quickly: The dog shifts around, whines or barks in frustration: “I am sitting. Hand it over!” and if still nothing happens he typically self-releases, and often jumps or is otherwise pushy, in frustration.
With some dogs, you could insert a chosen foul word between “it” and “over”. I am not kidding. I met a few where frustration escalated to anger and aggression, with one dog biting me, drawing blood. Thankfully it was a Pomeranian and the damage to my hand not as bad as it could have been with a larger dog.
How did a good behavior go south? Here is my theory: We get what we train for.
Sit before the door opens, sit to get your collar on, sit before the leash comes off, sit to get in the car, sit for the toy, sit for a bone and chewy, sit before you cross the road, sit before the walk begins, sit for affection, sit to greet, sit before you can play.
Sit for your food in the bowl, or worse, sit for every kibble that’s hand fed: Sitclickkibble-sitclickkibble-sitclickkibblesitclick… Sit! Sit! Sit!
The human obsession with sit becomes the dog’s; he offers it constantly for everything he wants, and because most people fail to put the behavior under stimulus control, he gets reinforced instantly and learns to expect it, and becomes confused and frustrated when what he expects doesn’t manifest.
There are other drawbacks. In my work, there are a number of behaviors I know will help my clients, and many require the dog to start from a standing position, for example beep-beep = back up. When I want to teach it, what I commonly get is the dog firmly planting himself when I gently move into his space, and I have to teach stand before I can proceed to what I am after.
Not that big of a deal but still annoying is when the long leash entangles between the dog’s legs and I tell him to halt to untangle it, and he sits on it, and I end up luring or lifting him. Ditto when he has a twig or a poop leftover stuck to butt hair, and I also don’t want an automatic sit in a puddle or slush. With a Newf-size and longhaired dog, that is a real mess.
More of a concern is if sitting is uncomfortable or painful because of age or arthritis. Yet, the dog still sits, because he knows that nothing good happens unless he does.
There was a time when I, too, thought that a dog addicted to a specific behavior because I externally reinforced it was a goal worth aiming for, because, by extension, she would also be addicted to me.
Not anymore. I changed my mind because, as any person troubled with an addiction will tell you, it is not a healthy way to live or have a relationship; it is emotionally arousing and draining.
I also changed my mind because a mechanical automatic sit, although sometimes hailed as such, is not a foolproof way to solve problematic behaviors, because often the underlying reason(s) isn’t explored and addressed.
An anxious or excited dog who sits because he learned that nothing else produces what he wants, or because then the shock doesn’t happen, might display that level of impulse control but won’t feel any differently about the stimulus that prompted the jumping, barking, lunging, nipping, growling, or whatever. A sitting dog can still be intensely internally stressed and aroused, and the unwanted expressions quelled with pressure often resurface with a different handler, or in a different home, or shortly after the pooch is back at home if he was, sadly, sent to a board-and-train facility.
And even when jumping is attention seeking, teaching a dog to sit instead also doesn’t always work.
I recently had a client whose dog used to be an excessive attention-getting jumper, and at 100+ pounds, she got it. A dog that size is rarely ignored when she bounces against you. The previous trainer taught down as the incompatible behavior – wisely understanding that a lie down is often the more comfortable position for a giant breed dog – which she nicely offered me several times throughout our session, albeit with same “gimme” look I talked about earlier. However, the core issue, her rescue dog insecurity and increased need for reassurance was not dealt with, and she began to spin and lick herself, which she also got attention for because it is hard to ignore, and it has become compulsive.
The lesson here is that outcomes in real life aren’t as predictable than what is determined in a lab, and the behavior you teach and reinforce might not always be the one the dog chooses.
I am not suggesting, not at all, that a dog shouldn’t be taught to sit and lie on cue. Sitting is good, just not a mechanical automatic sit not under stimulus control.
Also, understand that attention, connection, manners and impulse control are not position specific. A dog can have impulse control while standing and moving. In fact, many behaviors I want involve motion: Back away, come, left, right, follow, move ahead or over, walk with me, search for something, even leave-it.
So, go ahead and teach your dog to sit, and acknowledge when he offers it. Have fun playing sit games. But don’t create a dog who expects that each time he sits what he wants will manifest.
Don’t make everything the dog needs contingent on a sit.
And don’t forget to teach polite manners in any position, and every activity. Once a dog has them, in day-to-day life, it doesn’t matter if he sits, lies, stands or moves. I let mine choose.
