You don’t own me…

February 6, 2010

… Oh, wait, you do, your dog might say, if she were inclined towards philosophical musings. But does that mean you can — and should — try to change everything about me that you don’t like?

Those questions came to mind — mine, not Frankie’s, at least as far as I can tell — after I read an essay in last Sunday’s New York Times magazine titled “The Dog Who Hates Me.”

To summarize the piece: The author, John Moe, brings home a dog named Dave that his children adore — and vice versa. But Dave reacts badly to the author, barking hysterically whenever he comes home. Moe neuters Dave, hoping this will also alter the dog’s attitude towards him. The surgery is only marginally successful, and Moe decides to accept Dave’s behavior as an unalterable condition of their lives together.

Or, as Moe puts it:

He is who he is, just like all of us. I picked Dave’s name because it sounded human. I had no idea how prescient I was.

It’s a loving relationship, Dave’s and mine, but one in which one partner, without testicles, will always scream at the other, who has them, for no apparent reason.

My first reaction was irritation at the author, who gave training only a cursory try. But then the essay got me wondering: Where does one draw the line at trying  to change a dog?

Frankie shies away from other dogs and other people but is happy with me. Do I wish him to be braver because I think it will make his life better,  or am I just worried that his behavior reflects badly on me?

I asked Debbie Jacobs, author of A Guide To Living & Working With A Fearful Dog and blogger at  www.fearfuldogs.com, what she thought about the degree to which we should accept our dog’s personalities. Should I be trying harder to make Frankie less fearful?

She replied:

If a dog’s triggers [stimuli that bring on a reaction, such as fear] can be easily managed or avoided, then ‘working’ with the dog doesn’t matter so much. If someone lives in New England and is deathly afraid of zebras there’s probably no need to spend a lot of time on the problem, unless they plan on going on a safari. But if you live in NYC and are afraid of crowds, then that is a fear which either impacts you daily or limits what you can do in your life. If you are happy remaining in your apartment and have a full life, no problem, but if you live in dread of the times you have to leave and face the crowds, then that’s likely to contribute to stress and anxiety in your life.

Understanding that a dog that was not socialized or may be genetically predisposed to being fearful may never achieve the level of comfort another dog will in relation to its triggers is important. An owner can compassionately manage the dog’s exposure to things to minimize its anxiety. But every exposure to a trigger is an opportunity to help the dog change how he feels about it. It’s not so much about forcing a dog to deal with its triggers as much as realizing that in any situation something either good, bad or neutral is happening to a dog in regard to those triggers. By understanding how counter conditioning and desensitization work we can do our best to try to make these exposures be good things, or at the very least neutral. It’s a lifelong project for dogs like mine, but change happens, slowly, and I often say I hope both Sunny and I live long enough to see as much change as I’d like.

I don’t know Frankie so won’t speak specifically about what you should do. We need to be able to separate what our ‘dreams’ might be for our dogs and consider what theirs might be. I’m glad my parents weren’t set on me being a brain surgeon or concert pianist, they’d be disappointed and I’d probably have been miserable.

What a wise answer. Now if only I could get Frankie to write down his dreams…

Posted by Edie Jarolim
Posted in dog training | Tagged , , , | 28 Comments

Thanksgiving in the land of the alpha dogs

December 5, 2009

[originally posted November 25, 2009]

After Sunday’s Make Fun of Dog Dominance Theory fest on this blog, I figured that topic was pretty much played out. Then, later that day, I discovered an article in the New York Times fashion pages — an apt place for this kind of facile faddism — that suggests Cesar Millan’s dog training methods might usefully be applied to child care.

Yikes.

It worries me that a prestigious newspaper that would probably never dream of giving evolution and creationism equal time on its pages — or so I used to believe — would advocate methods that are anathema to nearly every certified dog trainer and veterinary behaviorist. Millan’s New Age combination of “calm, healing energy” and tough love (based on flawed wolf pack studies) would be easy to dismiss if it weren’t so dangerous to dogs and to their owners, who are in peril of being bitten. An extreme version of this type of grab bag thinking gone bad resulted in three deaths at a sweat lodge in Sedona, where an entrepreneur who co-opted native traditions told a group of devotees to “tough it out” when they were getting seriously dehydrated.

One of the things that’s most problematic about these pseudo-philosophies is their inconsistency. They chose a bit of this and that, and leave the rest if it’s inconvenient.

Or gross.

That is, actual alpha wolves take on the responsibilities that come with leadership. These involve finding and killing prey; eating it; and feeding the rest of the pack members by regurgitating the semi-digested bounty into their mouths.

But I’ll cut the alpha dog proponents some slack. After all, these are modern times. So I suggest it’s not necessary for them to kill their own food or even scrape it off the Interstate. However, there’s no reason they can’t utilize the popular and aptly named BARF (Bones and Raw Food) diet. Of course, they can’t just hand it over to their dogs, who would still feel dominant because they are being served. No, in the name of authenticity, in order to establish their alpha-ness, everyone who believes in Cesar’s Way should chew and swallow the raw meat and spit it up into their dogs’ mouths.

Tomorrow, in honor of Thankgiving, the dogs should get turkey. Raw turkey (for the sake of masticating master’s health, preferably antibiotic and hormone free). Sure, it’s disgusting, but think of all the obedient pups. And the cooking and cleanups that won’t be required for the guests that won’t turn up to observe this particular holiday ritual.

Also posted in Dog dominance theory, Dog humor | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Five training tips for traveling with your dog

December 5, 2009

[originally posted November 19, 2009]

I was looking for something clever to title this guest post by Mary-Alice Pomputius and then realized I had one of those gems that doesn’t need a flashy setting. This interesting, informative article does exactly what the title says: gives five great training tips to help you travel successfully with your dog. And, in case you haven’t noticed, it includes pictures of one of the cutest dogs in the universe.

Mary-Alice Pomputius and I met on Twitter recently and bonded over our mutual recognition that there were other ways than Cesar’s Way to train dogs — thus her emphasis on using positive techniques to accomplish her goals.

***

Chloe, our 14-month-old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, is our first dog. When we brought her home, we barely knew that different approaches to dog training existed. Happily, her breeder gave me a copy of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Positive Dog Training to read on the flight back to Seattle, and our neighbor suggested that I take her to puppy class at Ahimsa Dog Training, so we were on the right path without even realizing it.

Chloe loves the clicker

Chloe loves the clicker

As I’ve learned more about the alternatives, I’ve thanked my lucky stars that I thought to ask the breeder and my neighbor for advice. Once Chloe learned that “click” meant “lamb lung,” she’s been a huge fan of training.

Chloe is a terrific traveler — partly because she’s good-tempered enough to accept being zipped into a carrier for hours at a stretch, and partly because she’s learned enough commands to function well in unfamiliar surroundings and among unfamiliar people.

Here are the five commands that we find most useful when traveling:

“Crate” I strongly recommend traveling with a collapsible crate. It provides your dog with a secure den in an unfamiliar room, and it allows you to leave her (if you must) in a comfortable enclosure, where she cannot escape into the hall and beyond during nighttime turn-down and she cannot chew on the furnishings (or the power cords). “Crate” was easy to teach, since every time Chloe went into her crate on command she got showered with treats. The trick was to get her to regard more than one crate as the “crate” of the command, since she has one in our kitchen, one next to our bed, and a couple of different ones that we pack and use for traveling. Spending a little time with each, in each environment, ultimately worked.

“Wait” This command is invaluable at street corners. For us, it means a sit facing forwards in the direction we’re walking (“Let’s go!” releases her to move again with us). Your dog first learns to sit facing you, so the trick was to get her to spin around and face forward instead. Lamb lung bits, held just above nose level, lured her around in a circle until she faced the desired direction, then a “Sit” command got her tush on the ground — click! Once she got the basic idea, the command turned into a counter-clockwise arm swirl and the command “Wait.” This one took some time and patience, but she had it after a couple of weeks of corner-intensive walks.

Chloe waiting (and wondering "What's that in your hand?")

Chloe waiting (and wondering "What's that in your hand?")

“This way” We use this to encourage Chloe to move forward and to guide her in the direction we want her to go. It’s a good command for traveling because we often find ourselves on busy sidewalks with her, and it helps steer her around traffic that must be bewildering to a small dog. As she was learning it, she first got a click and a treat for catching my eye and later for moving in the desired direction. A gentle tug on the leash also helps, in combination with some yodeling and capering on your part, but your goal is to catch her attention so the click and the lamb lung can work their magic and get her moving — not to haul her along by force.

“Settle down” This, for us, is a more relaxed, curled-up pose than “Down.” A settled-down Chloe rests at our feet under patio tables while we eat. We owe this one entirely to Ahimsa, which had us bring a small mat to classes, and in between more demanding exercises would have us put the mat down and reward our dog for getting onto it and for any sign of relaxation on it. At home, we’d also use the command and employ the treats whenever she voluntarily curled up on a mat or in a dog bed.

Chloe following the "settle down" command

Chloe following the "settle down" command

“Sit” I put this one in hesitantly, because what really should be in this position is not a command but a learned behavior — sitting when meeting a new person — and it’s one that Chloe doesn’t really have under her belt yet. We’re working on it, and in the meantime we’ve learned a good stopgap: When your bouncy dog meets a new person, rapidly step on her leash about a foot and a half back from her harness, so that she learns that she will receive pats and attention even though she cannot jump. When Chloe’s traveling, everyone she meets is new, and we think it’s crucial for her to keep “four on the floor.”

Mary-Alice Pomputius writes a dog travel blog called Dog Jaunt, which provides advice for people who want to travel with their small dogs, on trips of any length.

Also posted in Dog Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Will My Dog Hurt Me?

October 12, 2009

Don’t worry. I’m not going to regale you with tales of vicious mastiffs who turn on their owners in a fit of rage. Nor do I intend to debunk the notion of unconditional love (though people sometimes forget that dogs don’t always demonstrate it — say, when you interrupt their mealtimes).

Rather, I’d like to warn you about the dangers of CRIs©: Canine Related Injuries.*

As I mentioned in my last post, I decided to stroll down memory lane in honor of the fifth anniversary of Frankie’s adoption. Naturally, all kinds of guilt-inducing experiences from our first year together came to mind: How I took Frankie to the dog park to “socialize” him (he spent the entire time hiding behind my leg); how I  put him in a shallow water fountain to cool him off on a hot day (that look of shocked reproach was enough to prevent me from ever doing it again); how I made him walk with a burr in his foot because I didn’t think to examine his paws and thought he was being stubborn (that memory still hurts me!)…

But I recalled that this blog is, after all, a guilt-free zone, and I honestly didn’t know any better. Frankie forgave me — at least he didn’t dwell on any of my gaffes–  so I’m forgiving myself.

Instead, then, this is a cautionary tale about the opposite problem,  a bit of stupidity that didn’t distress Frankie but caused me harm. To wit: When I first got Frankie, I used to let him sit in my lap and rest his little head on my hand while I was typing. I loved it. He was my furry muse, a warm calming presence.

Until I began getting shooting pains in my left wrist.

Oh right. Typing with a weight on your hand might not be the best idea. I banished Frankie from my lap, but it was too late. I was diagnosed with tendinitis.**

Frankie with head aimed at my wrist

Frankie with head aimed at my wrist

Two cortisone shots, a number of wrist braces, and several months of physical therapy later, I recovered, though I still get twinges in my left wrist.

I suppose I should find some solace in the fact that I’m not alone in my stupidity — or clumsiness.

According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), an average of 76,500 people per year trip over their dogs. Most incidents occur during walks, when 31.3% reported that they “fell or tripped over the dog” and another 21.2% admitted they were “pushed or pulled by the dog.” These statistics, based on data from emergency room visits, likely represent only a fraction of actual CRIs© because, according to the CDC, “many people don’t seek treatment after injuring themselves in accidents involving their pets.”

Or they seek treatment outside of emergency rooms. The physical therapist who worked on my wrist told me that she has seen multiple cases of dislocated shoulders caused by sudden and vigorous tugging on the leash.

Most CRIs© can be prevented by training — both of you and your dog. Work on ways to get your dog to stop tugging at the leash and to remind yourself to watch for underfoot pups. More difficult is to train yourself to use common sense — say, when it comes to refusing your pup his chosen headrest.

*For some reason, the publisher of Am I Boring My Dog wouldn’t allow me to put copyright symbols in my book, where I first claim the name for this class of injuries (something about house style). But it’s my blog — and my house. So there.

**This is actually a DRSI© (Dog Related Stress Injury),  a subcategory of the CRIs©, which themselves are a subcategory of PRIs© (Pet Related Injuries).

Update: I see I’m going to have to blog about the health benefits of pets — they’re vast –  lest people be put off from adopting dogs based on the stories in my comments section.

Also, by serendipity, I saw two useful posts related to at least one type of DRSI on one of my favorite blogs, Dog Spelled Forward: This one about a command you can use to redirect your dog on a leash, this one about a harness that helps prevent pulling.

Posted by Edie Jarolim
Also posted in Am I Boring My Dog, Dog Impact on Human Health | Tagged , , , , , , | 12 Comments

How to find a good dog trainer, Part 2

October 5, 2009

Finally: The completion of my series on dog training. It covers a bit of the same ground that previous posts do, including those that mock dominance trainers. I’m aiming for straightforward and dispassionate here, not because I’m any less riled up about the topic but because in some circumstances it’s the best way to convey information.

I was lucky enough to interview two of the most talented — and in my view, sensible — behaviorists for a story on this topic, which appears in  the August 2009 issue of Your Dog: Dr. Ian Dunbar (whom I met at last year’s Association of Pet Dog Trainers conference) and Dr. Alice Moon-Fanelli. Even where I don’t quote them directly, they are sources for much of my information. Parts of the following are also adapted from the Behaving and Bonding chapter of Am I Boring My Dog.

So, in addition to the four suggestions in How to Find a Good Dog Trainer, Part 1, you should:

5. Check out a class

Could you imagine a parent sending a child to nursery school without having a clue about what to expect? Why, then, would you entrust your dog’s education to a trainer, sight unseen? Even if you think you want private lessons, observe some group classes — without your dog. You’ll get a sense of various instructors’ training techniques and also get a feel for their interactions with both canines and humans.

If you ask to observe a class and the trainer refuses to let you, that’s a red flag right away. But even when you’re allowed to sit in, you might not have a context for what you’re seeing. Laughter, excited squirming (on the part of the dogs), and tail wagging (ditto) are all good signs; raised tones, sharp commands, and long silences are not. Whatever your impressions, be sure to follow up at the end by asking class members what they think. Few will be shy about sharing.

6. Be clear about your goals

Unless you know what you want, it’s impossible to determine whether a particular trainer can give it to you. For puppies, it’s pretty much everything– i.e., life preparation– but for older dogs you need to be a lot more specific than “I want her to behave.” A good trainer should be able to help you focus if you don’t have a sense of your options, and let you know if you’re being unrealistic about an objective– say, getting your dog to put a roller in his mouth and paint your house.

7. Look for clear progress toward your goal

Be wary of trainers who make promises they can’t possibly fulfill. There are no guarantees of perfection for dog behavior — or human behavior, for that matter. Avoid anyone who talks about ‘miracle cures’ and ‘missing secrets’ or uses similarly fantastical language.

At the same time, it’s reasonable to expect to see progress toward such simple goals as basic obedience and socialization in a few lessons. Trainers can’t guarantee results, but they should be willing to ensure client satisfaction. Make sure, however, that this satisfaction isn’t achieved by using training tools as permanent props. Dr. Dunbar and Dr. Moon-Fanelli advocate the initial use of treats as motivation, but both agree they should be phased as soon as possible. “You don’t want to bribe the dog. You want to train him,” Dr. Moon-Fanelli says, adding, “The goal is to have the dog do something because you ask.”

8. Assess professionalism

A trainer should have everything from a functioning, updated Web site to a demonstrated concern for your dog’s health safety. Basic vaccinations — defining those is a can of worms, I know, but that’s for another post — should be required for all participants in a group class.

Trainers — and certainly training schools — should be insured and have a business license so you’ll have recourse to the Better Business Bureau if necessary. Many who work in clients’ homes are bonded.

Prices should be in the ballpark of other trainers’ charges. “Expect to pay between $150 to $300 for a series of six [group] classes, maybe a little more in Manhattan or San Francisco,” Dr. Dunbar says, adding, “If they’re asking for less than $150, they probably don’t value their expertise so they may not have any.”

8. Accentuate the positive

The popularization of so-called dominance-based training methods on television has led many dog owners to expect them — and many trainers to use them. But as Alice Moon-Fanelli cautions, “Any time force and aggression are involved, learning stops. Instead, the interaction becomes a battle of wills.” She uses the analogy of the human workplace. “If you’ve got a heavy-handed boss who is always criticizing your performance, you shut down rather than performing well.”

Dominance-based training for dogs is not only ineffective in the long run; it’s also based on discredited comparisons between wolves and dogs. Perhaps most relevant, dominance has been misinterpreted by some trainers. “Alpha rolling, direct eye contact, muzzle grabbing — that’s aggression, not dominance,” says Dr. Moon-Fanelli who participated in wolf pack studies at the University of Connecticut. “It’s not what families of wolves do to establish hierarchies.” She advises dog owners to steer clear of trainers who use or advocate these techniques.

10. Trust your instincts and be patient.

“Too many owners don’t follow their emotions and keep going with a trainer who isn’t right for them or their dogs,” says Dr. Moon-Fanelli. “Too often people force themselves to stay out of guilt or because they paid the money, but they’re not moving forward.” Cut your losses if you can’t get a refund, she advises, and continue looking.

Posted by Edie Jarolim
Also posted in Am I Boring My Dog, Dog dominance theory, Dominance Theories of Dog Training, Positive Dog Training, Responsible dog care | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

How to find a good dog trainer, Part 1

September 26, 2009

After another bout of a mystery intestinal problem — apparently not related to his diabetes, fortunately, but still worrying — Frankie’s feeling much better, and expressing himself through enthusiastic doggie flatulence. It’s a good thing he’s little. And that I wasn’t planning any dinner parties.

So, as promised, I’m beginning my series on how to find a good dog trainer.  I’ll start with four things to look for. I’m not suggesting your attention span is short. It’s been an exhausting last few days, so I’m afraid mine is.

1. Seek out the certified

A good place to start a trainer search is the website of the Certification Council for Professional Dog Trainers (CCPDT), which lists about 1,400 CPDTs, most in the United States and Canada. To take the council’s standardized exam, applicants are required to submit references from a veterinarian, client and colleague. They also must have performed at least 300 hours of training within the last five years.

The lengthy exam, which is re-evaluated annually, covers learning theory, equipment, ethology (species-specific behavior), instruction skills and husbandry (health issues). Moreover, CPDTs must recertify every three years, either by providing proof of continuing education credits or by taking the most current form of the exam.

If a trainer claims he or she is certified, ask by whom. All kinds of schools have popped up that certify their graduates, but only CCPDT has an exam that is created by an independent certifying body of experts and geared specifically toward dog trainers.

Anyone interested in being a dog trainer — and who has the proper references and experience — can take the CCPDT exam, but the majority are members of the Association of Pet Dog Trainers (APDT), which is unaffiliated with the group. Those certified by the CCPDT are qualified for the professional membership level of the Association of Pet Dog Trainers.

2. Look for joiners, course-takers and readers

Membership in organizations such as APDT below the professional level doesn’t guarantee quality – you need only pay an entry fee to join as a full or associate member – but at a minimum it indicates an awareness that training is not merely a hobby.

An even better sign than membership: Attendance at APDT’s annual conferences, which offer lectures and discussions by top names in the behavioral field.

The APDT conference isn’t the only game in — or out of — town. Dog-training experts regularly offer courses or seminars, including on line webinars.

How do you know if a trainer you’re considering has taken advantage of any of these educational opportunities? Ask. Trainers who have kept up with the latest information love to talk about what they’ve seen, done and read. You may not be able to shut them up.

3. Check websites

The fact that a trainer has bothered to create one is a good start, again suggesting that she or he considers training a profession. Other things to look for in a website include:

  • Currency

I know, not everyone updates their websites regularly (guilty!) but if you’re referred to an address that says “We’re looking forward to getting this site up in early 2007” you’ve got to worry about the trainer’s seriousness and organizational skills.

  • Attitude

One website of an APDT member I came across disses everything from “university veterinary behavioral programs” to “food-bribery trainers” and group classes. I wouldn’t want to put my dog in the hands of someone so insecure that he needs to disparage the methods of others instead of just explaining the virtues of his own approach. In my experience, such humans often exhibit fear-based aggression.

  • Unwarranted claims

Be wary of anyone who guarantees results within a certain period of time — or guarantees results, full stop. All you can expect is that a trainer do her best, using tried and true methods — yes, that means positive ones, but I’ll get to that again later — for your dog. These methods may not succeed as a result of factors completely unrelated to a trainer’s skill, such as inherited temperament traits or illness.

4. Seek out individualization

Each dog, like each human, is unique. Some dogs are fearful and behave aggressively; some are friendly but have a hard time focusing; others are shy and don’t eat when stressed. The permutations are infinite. A trainer should be flexible and understand the needs of your particular dog, rather than applying cookie-cutter techniques.

A good trainer also recognizes and adapts to each owner’s unique personality and abilities (a nice way of saying they can deal with really annoying — or just nervous — people). Trainers need to be able to assess the owners as much as — if not more than –  they do the dogs.

Avoid trainers who can’t work past the fact that they like animals better than humans. It’s an understandable sentiment, but the process isn’t going to succeed if a trainer can’t train you along with your dog.

***

Note: Much of the information is adapted from a story I did for Your Dog, the newsletter of Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts, and from my new book, Am I Boring My Dog.

Posted by Edie Jarolim
Also posted in Am I Boring My Dog, Positive Dog Training, Responsible dog care | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Dog trainers, behaviorists & dupes, oh my!

September 24, 2009

Somehow, my post on how to find a good dog trainer keeps getting sidetracked, and I’ve begun to realize why. It’s not just that I felt the need debunk the most popular notions of training so as to put the subject into context. It’s also that training is unregulated, and therefore difficult to discuss without pinning down some definitions.

Yes, that’s right: The people to whom you entrust your dog’s education are not required to have a license of any sort in the United States. This problem is exacerbated by the fact the dog training industry has exploded in recent years. That’s not surprising. Occupations such as dog training that have no licensing requirements flourish during economic downturns.

Not only can anyone hang out a shingle as a dog trainer, but those with a little knowledge — about fee structures, rather than about training — may even call themselves behaviorists.

So let me start with the definition of that much abused title in dog training circles: Behaviorist. The human analogy for this term’s use — or I should say, misuse — would be everyone from fortune tellers to teachers and social workers calling themselves psychiatrists.

Who, then, can legitimately claim the title of behaviorist?

For one, veterinarians who are board certified in the specialty of animal behavior (see the American College of Veterinary Behaviorists and their public site, the American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior) — fewer than 50 of them in the United States. The best known among their ranks is best-selling author Dr. Nicholas H. Dodman, director of the Animal Behavior Clinic at Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts University and a pioneer in animal behavioral pharmacology.

Others who can call themselves behaviorists have upper level degrees such as a master’s or doctorate in a field related to animal behavior. Applied animal behaviorists specialize in animal relations with humans, and those who pass a stringent certification exam in this specialty earn the title of Certified Applied Animal Behaviorist – another elite group of only about 50 professionals, not all focused on canine behavior. In addition to having an advanced degree, CAABs are required to have five years of field experience.

The good news, given the limited numbers of the genuine item: Most people don’t need behaviorists for their dogs. This highest level of expertise is generally required only in extreme cases of aggression or obsession.

Professional trainers, those who have put in a great many hours to learn legitimate, science-based training techniques, are generally those who also know when to refer clients to real behaviorists — or to trainers who have experience dealing with a particular behavior — rather than try to resolve a problem with which they’re unfamiliar. They stand in marked contrast to trainers who know little about dogs but know enough about the marketplace to be aware that the title behaviorist will earn them more money.

My next post will discuss how to distinguish the former from the latter. Really.

Note: Much of the above information was adapted from a story I did for Your Dog, the newsletter of Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts, and from my new book, Am I Boring My Dog.

Also posted in Am I Boring My Dog, Responsible dog care | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Dinner at the Dog Dominance Cafe

September 22, 2009

Honestly, I was planning to forgo all negativity, to stop writing posts with clever — but hostile — titles about a certain TV personality. I was planning to — and still will, I promise — write about how to find a good dog trainer.

Then, yesterday, someone posted a link on Twitter to a dog trainer, now retired, who believes that dominance can be achieved by spitting in your dog’s food. Adam Katz, the aforementioned saliva advocate, writes:

Why do I recommend spitting in your dog’s food?

Because you’re marking the dog food with your scent. And because the Alpha dog in the pack always eats first.

This is a subtle way to communicate to your dog that you are the pack leader. But this alone won’t do it. You need to be acting like a pack leader in every other aspect of your dog’s life, too. Such as being the first to walk through a door. Or telling your dog where to lay down, and when he’s allowed to eat. And making sure you follow through and enforce any and every command that you give.

I’ve already noted the unscientific nature of dominance theory, based as it is on outmoded — and inaccurate — wolf studies. In a much earlier post, Dominance Theory Gone Wild: The Angry Kiss of the Papillon, I pointed out what can happen when dominance theory filters down into the mainstream, how absurd it was to believe a wee pillow licking pup was somehow trying to assert dominance.

It never occurred to me that this notion was close to one being advocated by a self-professed dog trainer.

I began picturing Adam Katz as having a reality show called The Dog Spitter. Or, alternatively, opening up  The Dominance Cafe, a place where, instead of knowing your name, everyone spits in your food.

You see, dominance theory presupposes that you can establish yourself as the leader of a dog pack, that differences in species don’t matter. And no one would deny that humans are animals. Therefore, taking the spit theory to its logical conclusion, any member of the wait staff who expectorates into a bowl of soup can assert primacy over the soup’s recipient. Forget just taking revenge on an irritating patron.  The mere presence of his or her scent would inspire the customer to leave the server a 30% — or higher! — gratuity, buss his own dishes, not linger over her food… all manner of desirable behaviors.

Sure, the Dominance Cafe might rack up a bunch of health code violations if the stealth mind control method were to be discovered but, until then, everyone in the room would be incredibly well behaved. Except, perhaps, for the Alpha Wait Staff.

Update: I’ve identified the source of the spit advocate blogger,  alert tweeter Eric Goebelbecker, a trainer who does not spit in his dog’s food (as far as I know), or at least not to assert dominance. Check out what he does advocate at his Dog Spelled Forward website and blog.

Posted by Edie Jarolim
Also posted in Dog dominance theory, Dominance Theories of Dog Training, Positive Dog Training | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments