Let Dogs Be Dogs for Dog’s Sake

Humans are weird. Since our only references for life are our own cultures, experiences, and thought processes, we tend to project that onto everything else around us.

Dogs are a good example. We anthropomorphize them, assume their thoughts and motivations mirror our own, or that they should behave in ways we deem appropriate.

I often see people become embarrassed and shoo their dog away when it begins a thorough sniff of another dog’s genitals. Dogs are punished and told off for humping one another. Why? Yes, in human society it would be remarkably rude to sniff a stranger’s nether regions or hump them. But that’s all a totally normal part of dog culture and we need to get over it.

Dog noses are incredibly powerful and can distinguish a crazy amount of smells. Just by sniffing another dog’s junk they can learn a lot about them. It’s the normal canine way of getting to know each other. It’s the same as our “Hey how ya doin’? Where ya from? What do ya do for a living?” etc. Just let it happen. And humping? For dogs, humping serves more purpose than just reproducing. It can be a normal part of play or a displacement behavior when they’re anxious. Puppies learn a lot of life skills during play, and humping just happens to be one that becomes a normal part of their repertoire along with the rest of it. As long as the humpee doesn’t mind the humping, don’t worry about it. If the humpee tells the humper to knock it off and the humper doesn’t listen, though, then it’s time to intervene.

This suppression and punishment of normal canine behaviors can be, at best, terribly frustrating for our four-legged friends. Sometimes our selfish desire to get a dog to behave the way we want can have some unfortunate fallout. For instance, people who walk dogs off-leash to show off their “impressive” training skills. I’m not talking about the folks who let their dogs romp freely and gleefully in the woods. I’m talking about the assholes who walk their dogs on busy sidewalks or other potentially dangerous areas, for the sole purpose of showing off how well they can make their dog obey even in the most distracting or “real world” environments.

They use electronic collars to force their dog to stay glued to their side. If the dog goes more than a couple of feet or even takes a step toward another dog or person, they get a correction from the collar. This has the very real potential to teach that dog to fear other dogs or people. They’re often not connecting the correction with their behavior of walking towards something, they’re connecting it with whatever has their focus at the time – the dog or person. If you got an uncomfortable or downright painful sensation every time you went toward something, wouldn’t you start to become anxious and want to avoid that something? Or even become outright threatening as a way to scare it off?

This need to boost one’s ego by showing how well they can control another living thing is pretty gross. Yes, solid training is a good idea and can be life-saving in an emergency. But in the meantime just put a damn leash on your dog and stop punishing it for being a normal dog. Many of these dogs show blatant signs of learned helplessness. I assure you anyone who can recognize it is not impressed by your “training.”

Set boundaries, provide guidance. But for dog’s sake, be understanding and just let dogs be dogs, yo.

Edit: Before anyone jumps on me with #NOTALLDOGS I do want to add that not every dog trained to be off-leash using a shock collar is going to develop terrible fears/aggression and learned helplessness. There are ways to do it “better” if a disproportionate amount of time/effort is spent rewarding the behaviors you do want from your dog (and I mean with more than praise and a pat on the head). But any sort of physical correction has to be used very, very, very carefully to avoid potential behavioral fallout or damaging their trust in you. The above example is an example of using one poorly. I don’t advocate their use and find them unnecessary at best, but I’m not naive enough to think all dogs respond to them the same way or that it’s impossible to get a well-trained dog using a shock collar. But it’s a risk I don’t recommend taking.

Dogs Deserve the Power of “No”

This post probably isn’t going where you think it is. I’m not talking about telling Fido “NO!” when he steals food off the counter or bites your cousin Margaret’s ankle (even though we all know she deserved it, that awful woman).

I’m talking about allowing our dogs to tell others “no.”

Some people seem to believe Spot should be a model family member who can do no wrong and tolerate all manner of nonsense. The loyal family rug that you feed in exchange for unconditional love (…wait). Spot is a bad dog if he ever growls or snaps or shows any sort of displeasure with another being/activity.

For example, I see this occasionally at the dog park. Dog #1 will be, for whatever reason, disinterested in playing with Dog #2. Dog #2 doesn’t get the hint and persists in trying to get Dog #1 to play. Dog #1 has had enough and finally tells Dog #2 off with a ferocious snarl. Dog #1’s owner chides them, saying, “They just want to play, why are you being so mean?!”

Well why are you such a fucking idiot, Margaret?!

Ahem, sorry…

Dog #1 is not obligated to play with Dog #2. Maybe Dog #1 is tired, in pain, or simply doesn’t like Dog #2’s play style. Maybe Dog #2 made fun of Dog #1’s haircut (something I’ve heard an actual “pet psychic” say, no lie). Until the day dogs evolve the ability to say, in clear English, “I’m sorry, old chap, I’m afraid I’d rather sit this one out – perhaps another time, old bean,” they have only a few ways of communicating with each other – and a snarl is a perfectly reasonable form of communication when all other more polite forms have failed. (Also, don’t ask me why dogs evolve to be British caricatures in the future.)

My dog is allowed to tell other dogs to buzz off when he has a valuable chew like a bully stick. He usually does this with a hard stare or small growl. The other dogs usually respect his request and all is well – it was merely communication. My dog learns this form of communication is effective and does not feel the need to escalate to something more aggressive.

My dog is also allowed to tell me no. Yes, even me! If I’m trimming his nails and he pulls his paw away, I let him. I encourage him with treats and praise and try holding his paw differently (this usually works for him, but if not I need to go back a step and work on counter-conditioning). He needs to know I will listen and respect when he is uncomfortable. No one likes the parent who forces them to do things and refuses to listen (ugh, parents – they just don’t understand). This teaches him I can be trusted and he is safe with me, which improves our bond and boosts his confidence.

Lastly: children. For the love of Morgan Freeman, stop forcing your dogs to tolerate children! We all love to believe our dog is that perfect family pet who adores and protects our little ones, letting them do anything they please to them. But at the end of the day, they’re just dogs, and dogs get fed up with being disrespected. Tiny humans are obnoxious, shrill, grabby things who haven’t yet learned boundaries. My dog adores children and I’m sure he would tolerate an awful lot from them, but even he would need a break. If he chose to disengage from a toddler and leave the room I would let him. If he even growled at a persistent child, I would reassure him it’s okay and remove the child while encouraging him to go take a break somewhere. He said no, so I am respecting this by protecting him and ending the interaction.

When we forget that, for a dog, growling or snapping is just a form of communication, because they have no other way to tell us they’re uncomfortable, it does them and our relationship a huge disservice. Imagine living with a family whose culture and language was entirely different from yours and they made no attempt to understand you (or misinterpreted you big time). It’s gotta be pretty weird and confusing to be a dog. We need to meet them halfway by understanding, listening, and allowing them a little autonomy.

Any Dog Can Be Trained to…

Pointless rant ahoy! LOWER THE ANCHOR, MATEY!

“Any dog can be trained to do [this, that, and the other thing]!”

I hear this a lot from trainers (of all methodologies). Theoretically they’re correct… but I can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh every time I hear it.

If you figure out the most effective reinforcements and put in the needed amount of time and effort… yes, you can technically train any dog to do just about anything. But I feel like dog trainers say this too freely to clients and forget to mention that, quite simply, some dogs are much more challenging than others.

Train a working line German Shepherd to do competitive obedience? No problem! Train a working line Great Pyrenees to do the same? Please record the training sessions and post them to Youtube so I can laugh at them.

It’s no secret that some dogs are bred to do certain things (herding breeds are gonna herd, scenthounds are gonna sniff, primitive breeds are going to scoff at you from their jewel-encrusted throne they bought off eBay using the credit card they stole, etc.). Some dogs are bred to be more handler-focused and biddable. They will be easy to train because working with you is naturally rewarding to them and therefore they’re more forgiving when it comes to goof-ups and punishment.

I’m amused when people say dogs like German Shepherds are a “hard” breed. They ARE difficult for most average dog owners simply because they typically have a lot of energy and need an outlet for it. They want to work – they are not content to be an accent rug in your living room that you occasionally throw a ball for. They’re also very biddable. If well-trained, they will quickly obey a cue even if it interferes with their deepest desire. My previous GSD mix would stop in his tracks and recall from chasing squirrels (THE most rewarding thing to him in existence) because I’d taught him that coming to me was also rewarding… and because he was just kind of wired to obey. My current GSD mix is very much the same way. I’ve been incredibly lazy with training him, but he will still come when I call rather than going to greet the dog across the street he has already dubbed his new best friend. If I tried that with an Akita or a Beagle I would expect to be blown off so fast my head would spin, unless I’d put in substantial time and effort with training. They would likely not be as easy as my handler-focused GSD mutts.

(Note: This isn’t to say a well-trained GSD isn’t that impressive – it’s very impressive and does take a great deal of time and skill! They’re simply more willing to work with us clumsy, ignorant primates than some other breeds.)

For many dogs it’s also very important to have a strong bond and long reinforcement history with them before you see significant results with training. I see many dogs who just kind of tolerate their owners rather than trust and rely on them. Knowing which methods work best for you and your dog is also key. If I had trained either of my dogs with a lot of punishment and corrections, I suspect their training would not be nearly as solid. They were/are both soft and sensitive to punitive techniques. If I so much as raised my voice they would become visibly stressed, usually enough to want to disengage from training – and from me. But I made training safe and fun for them which built their trust in me.

Let’s face it, most average dog owners can’t/don’t want to put in that much effort and many of them don’t have the skill to even if they did. Reading and training dogs does not come naturally to everyone. Training is a mechanical skill that requires keen observation and good timing. Denise Fenzi may be able to train that Pyrenees to compete in obedience, but your lazy neighbor who majored in accounting probably can’t.

There are some dogs I would even argue are near impossible to train to do certain things unless you were telekinetic and could control every aspect of the environment at all times. Sometimes the effort just isn’t worth it and management becomes your best friend. Not to mention that many behaviors have a genetic component – sometimes you can only mitigate, not eliminate. Teaching your Greyhound not to chase your pet rabbit may be a pipe dream, for instance. There are so many variables when it comes to a dog’s behavior and training them. It’s important to pick your battles with some clients rather than getting their hopes up that their Shiba Inu will excel in agility the same way your Border Collie does.

 

 

We Can’t and Shouldn’t “Save ‘Em All”

Wow it’s been a while since I posted, but look, I’m not dead!

Just kidding, I’m very dead. On the inside.

I decided I’d like to rant because my life is spiraling out of control and I have nothing better to do while I wait for my laundry to be done. I know I’m not the first to rant about this particular topic and I won’t be the last.

Those of us involved in the shelter community are familiar with the “save ’em all” mentality. The idea that every dog who comes through those shelter doors should be given a chance at all costs because damnit, it’s a living being with wants and needs.

What I think is worth saving and what you think is worth saving may be completely different. But after years in various shelters, I’m exhausted. I’m tired. Tired of seeing valuable time and resources wasted on dogs who are borderline feral, dogs with serious bite histories, dogs whose health will only decline over time, and so on. I’m tired of seeing good dogs with a legitimate chance at a good life neglected.

It’s not always the shelter or rescue’s fault dogs are getting screwed over. Sometimes their hands are tied in some way or another. It’s never easy, because in the end, you are talking about a living being. Sometimes there are complicated variables at every turn. Sometimes it’s just how the system works. We have a long way to go to change it.

It’s no secret dogs are being overbred, whether purposefully or accidentally. They flood shelters to the point some have to euthanize even healthy, stable dogs just so they have space to take in more. Some shelters are open admission, meaning they have to take in every animal brought to them whether they have space or not. Even with restricted admission shelters, sometimes animals get abandoned on the property, giving them no choice but to take them in (this abandonment is very illegal by the way, but it’s very difficult convincing authorities to go after them).

Keep in mind I’m talking primarily about shelters in the U.S. Other, more responsible countries don’t have the problems we do. Until we have a manageable amount of dogs in the country, why are we wasting time, money, and energy on dogs with aggression issues? Dogs with severe health issues? Dogs who are so borderline feral that 95% of the time I see them they’re stressed out of their mind because they don’t want to be surrounded by all these strange humans? While it is not their fault, these dogs do not mesh well with this life we are trying to shoehorn them into.

I have been struggling with a foster dog over the past year. When she came in as a stray her only issue was mild resource guarding with food, which we very successfully worked on until she was very adoptable. Long story short, shelter life caused her to deteriorate. She became uncomfortable with strangers and would snap at them with little warning if they attempted to touch her. We thought it was a barrier issue since it was only happening through the kennel door. She’d been friendly with people outside the kennel, so I took her home to foster. Turns out her discomfort with strangers wasn’t restricted to being in a kennel.

She has improved since being with me to the point she will attempt to walk away or otherwise disengage when she is uncomfortable (previously she would stand her ground). But as we all know, people are fucking idiots. Even if the dog clearly wants nothing to do with them, they push it and try to befriend them in their very inappropriate, primate way. When she is pushed she will still snap with little warning. While her bites are mild, she has broken skin and I’m terrified to think how much her issues would worsen in the wrong home.

On top of that, she has a bone structure that literally makes it uncomfortable for her to move. It’s clear to see when she tries to sit or lie down. We’ve tested her thyroid, looked into the possibility of Cushings, but the vet found no issue other than she is just “oddly built and overweight.” We’ve been working on the weight loss, but even with that the discs in her back will always cause her discomfort and likely deteriorate over time. Surgery can’t correct it. She would need to be on pain meds for the rest of her life, at the very least.

We have exhausted every effort to give this dog a chance even though I knew better. If not for the fact she is absolutely perfect when strangers aren’t trying to touch her, I would not have put in this much effort to save her. I love her dearly but I have no interest in keeping her. I know my limits. I know spreading myself too thin (emotionally and financially) does me, my dog, and my foster a huge disservice. I am already struggling with depression and burn out. I have less to spread than others. I strongly agreed with the shelter’s decision that she was unsafe to adopt out. She was transferred to another rescue (though I remain her foster) to try giving her one last shot even though, once again, I knew better.

I was selfish with my previous dog. I tried to save him in the end when he was old and dying of cancer. I didn’t know for certain he had cancer ’til after he’d passed, but I put him through surgery to remove his spleen in case it would give him another year or so of good life. He was refusing to eat, to go for walks (his favorite thing in the world). He knew his time was up and he was ready to go, but I wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t ready to let him go. I was selfish and he suffered for it. I should have given him one final, amazing week before letting him go peacefully and pain-free in my arms. I know we do stupid things when faced with mortality and losing loved ones. I understand why I handled it the way I did. I am in the slow process of forgiving myself, but it still kills me and it will always kill me.

I don’t want my foster to deteriorate and suffer. I don’t want to risk her bouncing from home to home, being put under more and more stress, potentially biting more people. She is happy with me. I think it’s likely this is the the happiest she’ll ever be. I don’t want to keep trying and find out that I was right. For once I would love to be wrong, but the risk of finding that out is not worth it. It will be hard, I will cry and grieve, but she will have a happy and dignified end. Not yet, but some day.

I am tired of seeing dogs bounced around, misunderstood, stressed, neglected, hurting other people or pets. It is humanity’s fault for failing them. We bred poor, unstable genetics into them, we did horrible things to them in the name of “training,” we refused to truly understand and respect them. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is let them peacefully leave the world others did such a poor job preparing them for.

 

The “Real World” Argument

Any dog trainer who’s spent any amount of time feebly arguing on the internet has likely encountered the “real world” argument. It’s an argument most frequently seen from trainers who utilize correction collars and few  (if any) treats. They consider verbal praise to be a sufficient reward (and for some dogs in some cases, it is).

These folks sometimes lambaste us “cookie pushers” and say our reward-based training will not hold up in the “real world.”  Frankly, I didn’t realize I was training in an alternate reality! Neat!

But what they mean by “real world” is “out and about where your dog could actually get hurt if they don’t listen to you.” Where they could chase a squirrel into traffic, a loud noise could startle them into running away, they try to harass a venomous snake, etc. They say there’s more to communicating with your dog than shoving treats in their face for every problem.

I don’t disagree with that last statement at all. There is a lot more to it than treats. Treats will be almost useless if you have not also built a strong bond filled with trust and respect. The same goes for any other training tool, though.

Why do us “cookie pushers” use treats so much? They’re easy and most dogs will work for them. Plus they’re a great way to teach fearful dogs we’re safe and to associate us with good things That’s it. It is phenomenally arrogant and misguided to expect an animal simpler than ourselves to work for little to no payoff. Some dogs love working with us and are willing to do it for lesser rewards, such as verbal praise. Other dogs need more incentive. Much like I’m gonna need a dozen donuts rather than a pat on the back if you want me to help clean your house. Well, depending on who you are – if our relationship is stronger I may be willing to settle for half a dozen.

I love the people who say “you won’t always have treats on you.” They’re not wrong, but this exhibits a misunderstanding of how proper reward-based training is done. If you need treats to get your dog to respond to you every time, you’ve screwed  up your training. Skilled reward-based trainers use treats heavily when initially teaching behaviors and when increasing criteria (distance, distraction, duration, etc.). After that it’s best to work with a variable reinforcement schedule – no need to reward every behavior, and do it unpredictably. Think like a slot machine. They’re addictive for a reason. Your dog doesn’t know for certain if he’ll get a reward this time, but he’ll damn well try, just in case.

Let me clarify and get this out of the way: I am not in the “correction collars are torture devices!!!” camp. There are some dogs trained with these collars who perform beautifully and enjoy it (whether they would be even more amazing if trained without the collars, I can’t say). They’re just not my thing. For my purposes, I’ve never needed them. If I can get my dog to avoid danger with reward-based training and management (leashes, etc.), I prefer to go that route.

My point is that yes, reward-based training can work for the “real world” too. My dog was never physically corrected, but he had a rock solid recall. I was able to repeatedly call him back to me in the middle of chasing squirrels while off-leash (this was THE single most rewarding thing in life to him, mind you). His recall and equally solid “wait” cues actually stopped him from walking into the road a couple of times (once was when he was after a squirrel, the other was when he was following me to my car).

I had made working with me so rewarding and built up his trust in me so strongly that he would listen when he knew full-well I had no treats on me (and I frequently walked him without treats because I didn’t need them). I had conditioned such a strong positive feeling when he heard one of his cues that his response became automatic. He didn’t fear the consequence of what would happen if he didn’t listen, he loved what happened when he did listen. He loved working with me.

“Okay, I will trust your judgment here and assume this isn’t as weird as I think it is…”

Plenty of other reward-based trainers have achieved the same (if not better) results. Even with “hard” or “high drive” breeds that allegedly need a “firm hand” when training.

I’ll admit this is more difficult to achieve with some dogs (scent hounds, amirite?). But it’s very possible if done properly and I’m simply tired of people misunderstanding that.

Stop Guilt Tripping People Who Give Up Their Pets

As an animal lover who is involved in the local shelter/rescue community, I of course see a lot of stuff related to these interests on social media. Something I’ve been seeing crop up way too much lately is making those who give up their pets feel like guilty, heartless people. It doesn’t matter what the reason was, you are a monster if you abandon your sweet, precious, angel furbaby. This mindset needs to stop.

As an animal shelter employee, I get to hear all sorts of reasons people give up their pets. A very common one is because the owners are moving. Many of us wouldn’t dream of moving to a place that didn’t allow our pets, or we can’t fathom people who are just too lazy/uncaring to bring their pets with them on a long trip.

Do you know how difficult it was for me to find an affordable apartment that would allow my 60lb dog that wasn’t even one of the “dangerous” breeds? I couldn’t find a place. I had to remain living with my friend and his parents (and to them I am eternally grateful). I have since found an affordable, pet-friendly place, but it’s one that is NOT easy to come by (though my dog had since passed away). The only reason I snagged it is because of social connections. That dog was my world and moving without him wasn’t an option, but having him severely limited my housing options. I didn’t make a lot of money, but I made enough to comfortably care for the two of us. Now that I’m paying rent it would have been difficult to do this (I’m having a hard enough time affording care for myself, frankly). It’s a lot more difficult than “well don’t move to a place that doesn’t allow pets” or “well then buy your own home.” Some of us can’t afford that luxury. Sometimes things change and money gets tight. Not everyone who gives up their pet because they’re moving are heartless – sometimes they just don’t have any other choice. I’ve seen my share of people bawling their eyes out at the shelter when giving up their pet because they don’t want to, but they’re out of options. Maybe they don’t have any friends or family able to watch their pet until they get back on their feet. You don’t know. So don’t assume.

I don’t even want to imagine how difficult it is for people with multiple pets, really large dogs (so many places had a 25lb weight limit), or people with “dangerous” breeds.

I could go through and hash out all the other common reasons pets are surrendered or where they choose to surrender them to, but that’s tedious and I would just end up reiterating “things are not always that simple, don’t make assumptions about their life” every time.  Even dedicated, knowledgeable, devoted dog owners may run into circumstances that force them to give up their beloved pet. Chances are they feel awful enough surrendering their pet. Making them feel guilty and horrible achieves nothing other than convincing them that all rescue people are horrible, crazy people (and let’s face it, some of you are).

Don’t get me wrong, there are some really stupid reasons people have given up their pet. But if they care so little and are willing to give up their pet over something so stupid, do you really want that person keeping that pet?

Not everyone has the same attitude about pets you do. Some people view them as pets, tools, or property, not family members. You’re not going to change that. Especially not by getting pissy and judgmental. If you really want to change anything, start educating in a more open, understanding way – and preferably only to people willing to hear what you have to say. Otherwise it is wasted effort that only serves to leave you perpetually angry with the world and making the shelter/rescue community look bad. This angry, holier-than-thou bullshit in these communities needs to stop.

Why Would I Choose a Breeder?

I work in a shelter and have been involved with the shelter/rescue community for years now. Yet I’m considering getting my next dog from a breeder. This post will likely stir up some controversy amongst my friends and acquaintances; some may even get downright furious with me. I completely understand why. However, I ask you to hear me out. There are reasons behind this decision and it’s not one I take lightly. It’s taken a long time for me to come to this decision – and frankly I may still change my mind.

Some believe there’s no such thing as a “responsible” breeder, but obviously I disagree. There aren’t many, but they do exist. These breeders are dedicated to preserving their breed as the dog it was meant to be. In a way, it’s like a work of art. A good breeder will do extensive health testing to avoid passing on any issues to the puppies. A good breeder will breed for temperament so they are not producing anything unstable. A good breeder knows how important socialization is, has you sign a contract, and will take a dog back at any point in its life if you decide you cannot keep it. Because of this they do not contribute to overpopulation in shelters. Good breeders will also suggest rescues to some people or help the rescues directly themselves. Considering all the money they pour into proving their dogs’ health and abilities, they don’t make nearly the profit you think they do. This isn’t for money. This is for the love of a breed.

Someone who buys a dog from a breeder is not literally responsible for a shelter dog dying. Even if they do not get a puppy from a breeder that does not mean they would have or should have gotten a shelter dog. Police dogs, military dogs, service dogs, search and rescue dogs, etc. The people who take on puppies for this kind of work need puppies whose health, drive, and temperament will be predictable.

I don’t train police/military/service/SAR dogs. Why on earth do I need a dog from a breeder? Because I want something very specific. If I find that very specific dog in a shelter before I get a dog from a breeder – then great! But it’s not likely. It’s selfish, but I’m picky. I don’t want a project. I quite fancy German Shepherds. Poorly bred GSDs can be found throughout rescues. A poorly bred GSD is often a disaster – aggression, anxiety, health problems, so on. If you’re getting a dog bred for guarding and working, you need to be careful where it comes from. Getting a GSD puppy from rescue is a huge gamble (plus they look so different as puppies who knows if it’s even a GSD unless you’ve seen the parents). I would just get an adult, but I really want to start off with a puppy. I want to teach it appropriate behavior from the beginning, prevent bad habits as best I can, properly socialize to avoid behavior issues, and have a better chance of teaching it to enjoy normally scary things like going to the vet. I’d also like a dog to do obedience and potentially sports with. For that I need a dog with at least a little working drive.

“But it’s all in how you raise ’em!” No. No it isn’t. Stop saying that.  Improper socialization and training can have a huge impact – absolutely. But temperament and drive has a genetic component. Things like aggression and anxiety can be passed on to puppies. So I want a dog from rock solid lineage to avoid those issues. Five days a week I work with dogs with behavior issues. The last thing I want to do when I come home is do more of that with my own dog. The breeder I am considering usually has a long wait list for puppies and potential buyers must pass a thorough screening process. In the meantime, I will absolutely continue to browse shelters and rescues for a dog that suits me. I’d be delighted if I could find one. And 95% of the time I’m still totally going to recommend shelters/rescues to anyone looking to add a dog to their life.

Unfortunately regulations on breeding dogs are so piss-poor that pretty much anyone with two intact dogs can be a breeder. The real people who are the problem are the puppy mills and backyard breeders – those who don’t breed/test for health or temperament, those who don’t screen buyers, those who just churn out dogs ignorantly for a profit. They are the ones whose dogs end up in shelters. They are the ones who deserve your ire.

I know that even with all this, some will still disagree with my decision to go to a breeder. That’s fine. Hopefully this helped others understand.

Why Is The Dog Whisperer Still Being Discussed?

I didn’t want to have to make a Dog Whisperer post. There doesn’t need to be another Dog Whisperer post on the internet. To be fair, nothing is forcing me to make this post. But it’s come up in conversation quite a bit around me lately and I figured I would just write out a big response. That way the next time I am asked what my thoughts on the Dog Whisperer are, I can just sigh and give them the link to this post, so that I may go back to my merry life of inhaling some nacho Goldfish crackers for dinner again. They’re extra salty from all my tears of boredom.

The Dog Whisperer. Cesar Millan. That guy. A lot of people love his show, a lot of people hate it. Pretty controversial dude – for a reason. For clarity, the main techniques of Millan’s I’m talking about are alpha rolls, his “claw” move, the “tsst!” thing, that weird backward kick to the ribs he does, staring the dog down, and generally getting in the dog’s space to intimidate and “assert dominance.”

In a perfect world, no one would take a reality TV star seriously and that would be the end of it. He is entertainment. He is not science. End of story.

NOPE.

A lot of people are lazy and set in their ways (myself included, sometimes). We don’t want to think and seek answers for ourselves, especially not when National Geographic is going to serve it up on a silver platter with dramatic editing and background music to keep us enthralled.

Since many of us have the attention span of a gnat (do gnats actually have short attention spans, or is that just something they say?), I’m going to try making a concise, bulleted list of the issues with Cesar Millan’s ideologies and training methods.

• None of his techniques/ideologies are based on actual scientific evidence.
• Dogs are not wolves. Even if his information on wolves was correct, it’s not wise to treat them as though they’re the same.
• Humans are not dogs. Dogs know this. It’s dumb for us to ever think we could accurately mimic dog behavior.
• He has zero credentials in canine behavior. You will not find a single certified applied animal behaviorist or ethologist who agrees with his ideas/methods. He is an entertainer. Period. (For those curious, yes, I take this same stance on Victoria Stilwell.)
• He cannot read canine body language to save his life. He sees a calm, submissive dog. Behavior experts see a shut down, terrified dog who’s learned what behavior most likely won’t get them killed. They are in self-preservation mode.
• Many of his techniques exacerbate the very problems they’re trying to resolve. Even in “skilled” hands. At best, the human’s problem is suppressed – the dog’s underlying issue is never addressed or resolved.

That’s as detailed as I’m gonna get. Many other people have already made these arguments better than I have. One of my favorite articles on this is Dog Whispering in the 21st Century by Prescott Breeden (find it here: http://prescottbreeden.com/dog-whispering-in-the-21st-century/ ).

I was going to go through and copy/paste some of the best excerpts from that article, but that would be a huge disservice to it (and the excerpts I’d want to showcase would make this post almost as long as the article itself). Please for the love of your deity of choosing, just do yourself a favor and read it. Preferably with an open mind.

Recently someone asked, “why do people hate him so much?”

I don’t have anything against Millan as a person (that would be unfair, considering I don’t know him). Trainers and behaviorists take issue with the show because people absorb it as factual when it is not. The information he is putting out is genuinely harmful to the dogs of the people who employ his methods (you can put a “don’t try this at home” disclaimer on it all you want). We wouldn’t care so much if his show wasn’t hurting anyone. His techniques are misguided and based on misunderstandings. There is scientific evidence out there showing that his techniques are not the most humane and effective way to address these behavior problems. But sadly, science isn’t entertaining and charismatic enough to get a TV show that most people would care about.

Pit Bullshit

I’m feeling more cynical and exasperated with the world than usual, so it’s time to rustle some jimmies.

Today a video was brought to my attention called “8 Pit Bull Lies You Might Believe” courtesy of the Clickbait Capital of the Internet: Buzzfeed. I won’t link to it because I’m lazy and I’m guessing you have the capability to Google it yourself (god I hope so).

Let me preface this post by saying I like pit bulls (in general). I’ve worked with a pit bull advocacy group for a couple of years now because dispelling myths is a huge fancy tickler of mine. Pit bulls are just another group of dogs to me. Many of them are very good dogs. Pit bull is an umbrella term typically referring to American Pit Bull Terriers (APBTs), American Staffordshire Terriers (AmStaffs), and Staffordshire Bull Terriers (Staffies).

But I’m getting irritated by pit bull advocates.

You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones who inundate your Facebook feed with some “precious angel furbaby” spiel about how pit bulls are forced to fight and were once called nanny dogs. The very people championing these dogs are the ones who know the least about them. I can’t be too hard on them, I was like that once – not very long ago, even. I’ve encountered anti-pit bull websites that do better, more objective research than these people for crying out loud.

I’m all for telling people that pit bulls are not vicious baby-eaters who will turn on you. But not if it means spewing your own misinformation gathered from image macros shared by the crazy rescue lady on Facebook. And by the way, the nanny dog thing is mostly bullshit too. There’s no legitimate source for pit bulls (at least not APBTs) being called nanny dogs in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It’s mostly attributed to Staffies and how they love kids (but didn’t necessarily mean they were good with them).

So let’s go through these “8 Pit Bull Lies.”

1. “LIE: Pit bulls are inherently dangerous. TRUTH: Responsible ownership can prevent any aggressive tendencies.”

Pit bulls? Dangerous? Only if you’re another dog.

Alright, alright. I’ll agree that pit bulls are not these folk’s definition of “inherently dangerous.” They’re no more likely to eat your face for breakfast than any other breed. But it is very important to acknowledge and accept that dog-aggression often crops up in pit bulls. This mostly happens with the American Pit Bull Terrier specifically since it was bred into them, but with how mixed up and watered down pit bulls are these days it can pop up in some of the other bully breeds as well. There’s nothing wrong with dog-aggression. Unless you want another dog and cannot safely manage a crate-and-rotate living situation. Though many will argue that with dog fighting on its way out there’s no purpose for dog-aggression anymore. I won’t touch that one.

I will add that dog-aggression and human-aggression are completely unrelated and the latter is generally frowned upon. This is where some of you chime in with, “Yeah! Dog fighters would cull any dog that showed aggression to humans!” Well, probably, for the most part. But you know if that dog was an excellent fighter the owner would probably be willing to overlook some things. It’s still quite uncommon, though. Of all the dogs I’ve felt unsafe around, few, if any, were pit bulls (that’s what we call “anecdotal evidence and therefore invalid,” kids).

Also, “responsible ownership can prevent any aggressive tendencies”? Uh. That depends on what aggressive tendencies we’re talking about here. Proper socialization and training is absolutely super important and can have a huge impact, yes. Handling your dog poorly can ‘cause some behavioral issues such as aggression. But again, there is a genetic component. Dog-aggression is bred for. Just like prey drive or toy drive, it will always be there. You can dampen it, but it will still be there and you had better know how to safely manage it. These dogs are not “trained” or “forced” to fight other dogs. That drive is innate and they love doing it. I won’t say that makes it right, but I get really tired of people completely misunderstanding this.

 

2. “LIE: Pit bulls have locking jaws. TRUTH: Their jaws exert less force than the jaws of Rottweilers and German Shepherds.”

Actually, I can’t disagree with this one either (though I would like to know in what context these dogs are exerting force with their jaws). But I can elaborate. Pit bull jaws are structurally no different from other breeds and have no locking mechanism. This myth sprung from the way pit bulls have a tendency to bite and hold when fighting. When most dogs fight there’s a whirlwind of fur and snapping teeth. Not so with pit bulls, generally speaking. Once they bite, they hold on and won’t let go for anything. It’s oddly calm. It’s simply the bite/fight style they were bred to have. And it’s why you need a break stick for these dogs.

 

3. “LIE: Pit bulls are poorly behaved and aggressive. TRUTH: They consistently rank above average on temperament tests.”

The temperament test in question is the one by the American Temperament Test Society. Without going into long, boring detail, I don’t put a lot of stock into this test. From their website: “The test simulates a casual walk through a park or neighborhood where everyday life situations are encountered.” That’s it. That’s all you get. A 12-minute peek into how your dog would handle gunshots and various strangers. Context is important to dogs. They may act one way during this test, but differently when at home, with different people, with different animals, with different objects. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fabulous that pit bulls can pass this test with such flying colors, but it’s not a black and white bottom line. I’d just like to see more input from certified behaviorists on it. My dog probably would have failed that test because of the gunshots alone, but he had one of the most stable, solid temperaments of any dog I’d ever met.

4. “LIE: Pit bulls have always been known as bad dogs. TRUTH: They were originally known as ‘America’s dog.'”

This one I don’t actually know that much about. But boy all those old propaganda posters with pit bulls on ’em sure were cute.

5. “LIE: Pit bulls will turn against their owners without warning. TRUTH: Dogs always give a warning before attacking. Reading their body language is important.”

For the most part, I’ll agree with that truth. Many, many dog owners don’t have a clue about canine body language and miss crucial signals from their dogs all the time. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a dog who didn’t give some kind of warning. But I’ll play devil’s advocate a bit here. Some dogs show fewer or more subtle warnings than others (though it has nothing to do with breed). How many of you have punished your dog for growling before? Five bucks said your dog just learned to stop growling and skip straight a more severe reaction. And also that you’re an asshole.

6. “LIE: All pit bulls were bred for fighting. TRUTH: Only 3% of pit bulls are involved in dogfighting. Many were bred for work and companionship, because of their gentleness and loyalty.”

Whoa, I’d like to see a source on that. This lie can get dicey. But 3% seems oddly specific. Depending on who you ask, a dog isn’t even considered an APBT if it hasn’t fought in matches, because that’s the very thing they were created for. So were all pit bulls bred for fighting? No. All APBTs? Eh, a good chunk of them, most likely.

7. “LIE: Breed-Specific Legislation helps keep neighborhoods safe. TRUTH: Laws that focus on education and responsible ownership are the ones that make a difference.” 

I actually have nothing to be catty about here. It’s true, BSL has proven to be largely ineffective.

8. “LIE: Nobody wants a pit bull for a pet. TRUTH: According to a survey by VetStreet, the American Pit Bull Terrier is one of the top three most popular breeds in 28 states.”

I don’t really have much for this one either. Pit bulls do make up a decent chunk of the population in many shelters around the country, but there are many variables to consider other than “well I guess no one wants them.” For instance, how many pit bulls are there compared to other breeds, how many are owned by irresponsible douchelords who let them keep having oops litters constantly, etc.

I’ll end this by saying pit bulls are good dogs. I admire their gameness, incessant need to love someone, anyone, and their big, doofy heads. But they’re not the first dog to come to mind when I think “good all-around family dog.” Though some do fit that description, pits are typically high energy dogs with high prey drives and some dog-aggression. They can be difficult for your average dog owner to manage. They’re not for everyone. Not even me. So let’s be realistic and honest about the dogs we’re trying to spread the truth about.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go cry myself to sleep because instead of doing something meaningful with my life I just sat here and spent valuable time picking apart a Buzzfeed video on the internet.

Goodbye, Good Dog

I’m writing this in hopes that it will help me grieve and move on. I don’t know that I will ever find peace with what happened, but maybe writing about it will help me accept it. I lost my dog yesterday morning. My awesome, irreplaceable Shadow. Gone.

We adopted him from a shelter in Arkansas in 2002 when I was only 14 years old. I remember that day. Like a typical 14-year-old, I just wanted a cool-looking dog. You know, something badass and wolf-ish. Shadow was the closest thing they had. A big, black dog who looked mostly like a German Shepherd, until you saw his ears – goofy, crooked things that stuck out to the sides like wings on an airplane. They estimated he was about a year old. I picked him out and we were brought outside to the meet-n-greet yard. I crouched down to encourage him to come say hi. He came right toward me and I prepared to be sniffed or licked – until he passed right by me to investigate the smells on the ground. He had zero interest in me. My teenage ego was hurt, but I decided I wanted him anyway. I remember as my mom was signing the paperwork and paying the adoption fee he peed on the front desk. D’oh.

A few hours later, we arrived home.  We brought him inside to check the house out, and he promptly peed on my luggage. It was clear we had a marker on our hands. But after that night he never once peed inside a house again. He was mostly an outside dog. Not the most responsible decision, but things were different then. He wasn’t the most clingy or affectionate dog, so he seemed to like it fine. After high school, I moved to Canada for a year and a half and he stayed home with my mom. Then in 2009 I moved to Louisville, KY, where I currently reside.

It was in 2010 that I brought him here to live with me and became totally responsible for him. Back then he had a little trouble adjusting to new places, and of course it changed my life dramatically, so for a while I worried that I had made a mistake and wondered if he’d be happier back with my mom. But I stuck it out and we both adjusted fine. It was nice having something to force me to get out in the fresh air and take relaxing walks every day.

He knew how to sit, but I didn’t start doing any formal training with him until around this time (thus proving old dogs can learn new tricks). I taught him down, shake, stay, touch, jump, spin, play dead, and a damn fine recall if I do say so myself. I could call him back to me in the middle of chasing a squirrel. Considering I was a novice at training, I give him a lot of the credit for simply being a good dog. I’m convinced if he were almost any other dog he would not have learned things half as quickly or performed half as reliably. He was a fantastic dog for a beginner like me. Not just with training, but in general.

Even before training he was so naturally well-behaved. Very mellow, never jumped up on people, rarely begged for food (and was very polite if he did), only barked when someone came to the door. The only accident he ever had indoors was completely my fault for giving him some food that upset his tummy before I left for work. Even near the end of his life when he had awful diarrhea he would ask to go out every time, even if all he had to do was cough up some bile (he hadn’t been eating). The only time he ever got into the trash was when we put a whole turkey carcass in there around Thanksgiving (turkey was one of his favorites). The only time he counter surfed was when I stupidly put that same carcass on the counter after taking it from him the first time. Total human error there.

He was also a somewhat strange dog. Except in the face of thunderstorms and fireworks, he was very calm, confident, independent. But he was very sensitive to people being upset with him. He would slink and offer appeasement gestures left and right to diffuse any anger. If I even used the word “no” during training his morale would take a hit and he would try to disengage. He helped teach me to train with a lot of patience and guidance. When I was being positive and helping him, he loved training with me. It was a great bonding experience for both of us. I admit I was that douchebag owner who walked their dog off leash a lot in the park, but he was not the kind of dog to run up to people or other dogs, and I was not the kind of owner to let him (though I had my dumb moments where I should have been more careful). He stayed close. It was nice that he willingly enjoyed walks with me instead of feeling he was forced to stay with me by a leash.

Walks were his favorite things in the world. If I picked up his collar and leash he got excited and bounced around, grinning from ear to ear. He would even make some gleeful noises akin to Chewbacca if you got him amped up enough. He loved a good squirrel chase or digging after chipmunks. Although when we briefly lived in New Hampshire he messed with the wrong prey animal and got a few porcupine quills to the face, prompting a trip to the emergency vet. He learned not to be so bold with them after that. It wasn’t just small animals he liked to go after, oh no. He certainly enjoyed chasing deer and even tried to go up a tree after a bear once. That was one of the few times I was more grateful than usual for his willingness to listen to and follow me.

He was my buddy on many adventures. We explored many trails, walked in many parades, and he was with me every time I moved to a new place. He was a dignified old man, charming everyone he met. While he’d never turn down the opportunity to go on a walk, he was also content to hang out at home and enjoy a good petting session.

(Photo by Sabarika)

 

On Saturday December 6th he developed some bad diarrhea and wasn’t eating. He had just been to the vet the prior Thursday to see about pain meds for his achy joints, which I had given to him Friday night. I thought surely these were just side-effects from the meds and if I took him off them he’d be fine, no problem. My vet was convinced something else was going on. Unfortunately, she was right.

Cue another visit to the vet. Blood work looks fine. We go in for an ultrasound and they find a bleeding mass in his spleen. I’m told these are usually caused by an aggressive form of cancer. Either way, the only treatment is surgery. I’m faced with a hard decision. My vet says we could also try an abdominal tap to send some fluids off for analysis and see if there are any cancer cells. I opt to do that, hoping it will give me some insight as to whether or not it’s worth putting him through surgery. On Wednesday the results come back showing no cancer cells (but it’s no guarantee). I decide to take the chance and schedule him for surgery to remove his spleen the next morning. Even though he was at least 13 years old, he was still otherwise very healthy and stable.

Wednesday night was his last good night. The appetite stimulant was working, he was eating some leftover pasta I had heated up for him and loving it. He even had the energy to do a few tricks. It was fantastic to see him almost back to normal and feeling well again. I had my happy buddy back, if only for a few hours.

The next day his surgery goes well, though he does wake up in a bit of pain (and my vet being the awesome person she is goes and buys him some lidocaine patches out of her own pocket to help make him comfortable). His stomach and intestines are also distended from not eating. I bring him home that night. Not surprisingly, he still won’t eat. Even when he was feeling well he was a bit of a picky eater and would refuse to eat if even a little stressed. The next night around 10:00pm I run to the store in my pajama pants and buy a whole chicken to make him some bone broth in the morning (which unfortunately takes around 24 hours).

He has a plethora of pills to take to help with pain, appetite, and his distended innards. Normally it’s very easy to get him to take pills hidden in food. But since he wasn’t eating, that means I had to pill him – which he did not enjoy. Despite all the stress and pain of going to the vet, surgery, and being pilled several times a day, he still trusted me and sought comfort from me. Thursday night he was feeling pretty rough and could only fall asleep if I was softly petting him. It was pretty miserable seeing him in so much discomfort, but I knew he’d get better eventually.

On Friday he still would not eat, so I tried to syringe some Ensure into him with a turkey baster. Poor guy wasn’t a fan of that either. We spent the night at my vet’s house because he just wasn’t feeling well and she was really worried about him not eating. He was restless all night and I was so tired and just wanted to sleep that I got frustrated at him for not settling down and resting. That is something I will regret for a long time. Around 4:30 in the morning I woke up to find his breathing was shallow and he was a bit lethargic. I woke my vet and we took him outside because I knew he needed to pee, but he wouldn’t. She took his temperature to find it was really high. So off to the emergency vet we went.

The doctor came out and talked to me, told me they would likely need to keep him over the weekend. She didn’t hear a heart murmur, his lungs didn’t sound bad, his blood work came back looking okay, blood pressure was fine, the quick flash she did on the ultra sound showed nothing… what could be going on? His heartbeat was unusually fast, though. They said they would call if anything happened, but no news was good news. I went home to try and get some sleep.

Around 8:00am I was out cold and having a dream in which I was wandering around worried about Shadow. The sound of my phone ringing woke me up abruptly. I didn’t recognize the number but deep down I knew who it was. My heart sank as I repeated “no news is good news” in my head. I answered and was told by the vet that Shadow had stopped breathing and his heart had stopped beating right as she was checking it. They were performing CPR but having no luck and asked if I wanted them to continue. I said yes and we ended the call. I began to process what was going on and started to cry. She called back a moment later and said the CPR was still not working. Usually if they don’t get them back by now, they’re not going to. Through tears I choked out, “No… let him go…”

They later found he had aspiration pneumonia. He just didn’t have the strength to fight it. I spent that morning in bed, alternating between crying and being a lifeless zombie. I had always imagined he’d die peacefully in his sleep, or that I would know when it was time and give him the best day of his life before putting him to sleep, feeling content and safe in my arms. Instead he died scared and in pain without me there, and I’d spent some of my last few hours with him frustrated at him. I always knew his death would be hard on me, but that alone made it hit exponentially harder. There was little we could have done, even if we’d known about the pneumonia curveball life threw at us earlier. I will kick myself for not trying harder to get some food in him so he’d have more strength, but I tried.

I arranged to see his body before they cremate him later that day. I don’t want to see him lying there lifeless, but I know I need to say goodbye and pet him one last time for closure. They wheel his body in, covered in blankets. I take his collar off for the last time and start sobbing and petting him softly. He’s stiff. I’m painfully aware he’s no longer in there. All I can do is cry and say I’m sorry. My only solace is that he’s no longer suffering. My vet joins me a few minutes later. She is also a friend and Shadow’s death has hit her pretty hard as well.

I have not felt pain like this since my dad died in early 2002. I know that some day I will be okay, but right now it hurts like I’ve been stabbed in the chest and kicked while I’m down. I could not have asked for a better canine companion. I was lucky to have him. He didn’t deserve the end he got, but sometimes life is just incredibly unfair. I will be okay. Some day. So many friends and family members have been incredibly supportive and comforting, going through this would be much harder without them.

As cliche as it might be, I ask that you never take your dogs for granted and spend more time with them. Be patient and kind. You never know when you’ll be spending your final hours with them.

I’m not a religious person, but I hope like hell there is some sort of afterlife, and that some day Shadow and I will go on adventures again…