You’re not a dog trainer, you’re a scientist (Chapter from the upcoming book)

“You’re useless. You’re wasting her time. You don’t have the answers. You’re a phony. A fraud.”

I realized long ago that when you’re dog training, you sometimes know the answer and you sometimes don’t. At a certain point, some issues become a bit of a guessing game in which you’re tasked with testing the most likely hypothesis. It shouldn't come as a surprise that a dog trainer would be able to think through the likely causes and solutions much faster than our clients, after all, that’s why we get paid the big bucks. 

But this scientific thinking goes further. We also apply this to our methodology in terms of advancing our dog’s skills. In order for you to do the same I want you to picture this scenario with me:

Your dog has got the impulse control from the last subchapter down. They know how to leave a tempting item alone without even being told to do so, they also know that there’s a magic word (Break word) that allows them to gain access to said treat. However, when you take them outside, to what my clients only slightly passive aggressively refer to as the “real world”, suddenly they cannot apply the same skills they can demonstrate so masterfully inside. Why is this?

One, we have to consider the walk in terms of phases, this will be explained in more detail during the Walking chapter. Outside/outdoors is the most stimulating possible environment your dog can be placed in, whereas indoors can potentially be the least stimulating. The difference between indoors and outdoors is that almost all variables are under our control indoors, while outdoors we have very little influence. You can rule countries and nations, command many men, but you have no command over the leaf that just flew in front of your dog’s face- and the ensuing chase. 

So scientifically speaking, the indoors is a controlled environment with controlled variables and therefore predictable consequences. The outdoors is anything but. We have the eventual goal of having our dog not react to these random variables outdoors so what do we do in order to take them to that level?

We have to introduce other variables/stimulants into the equation. Building off the impulse control example, if your dog has perfected what was discussed in that subchapter, you may add another treat into the equation. It’s much harder to leave two treats alone than a single one. How about placing them in opposite directions? Better yet, can we add life into it by throwing the treat down on the ground from a slightly elevated distance and seeing if our dogs will still lunge after it?

Great. Now increase the distance, increase the number of variables. Now a toy enters into this scenario. It’s their least favorite tug toy but still. How about a rolling ball?

Okay, now try it with different treats all around 3 feet away from your dog. Can they still come to you even when there is such temptation paving their very path? How about their favorite toy being thrown? Will they leave it alone and look at you immediately after? Perfect. Now I need your dog to do all of those together. Oh, and add a fan on the floor blowing leaves you gathered from outside or napkins. If you dare tell me your dog can handle all this, then I triple dog dare you (pun most definitely intended) to have all these distractions going on while you practice the walking basics that you will read about in the walking chapter.

Most of you are not as crazy as I am, so you’ll give up far before that final stage. Except, (as any committed person would tell you) I’m not crazy. I’m committed. Are you committed to having your dog walk well on leash while outside with you? Well, then you’ll need to get a bit crazy.

That scenario isn’t the only way to practice however. I strongly encourage you to try the basics of impulse control, Sit/Down/Stand Stay, and other applicable skills outside. Outside to your dog may even mean the front yard, the hallway, or the lobby area of your apartment building. Wherever they struggle to do their basics skills, practice there. As Jean Piaget pointed out, conflict is necessary for development to occur. If you’re worried about being embarrassed because your dog is struggling, then you are concerning yourself over the wrong thing and you must shift your priorites. 

There’s been many times I’ve transcended the ranks of dog trainer into the realm of “scientist”. I remember one time I had taken on a client whose dog had trouble going down the stairs. I thought, “Simple enough”, and went over to their apartment. Not simple enough, as it would turn out. The dog completely refused to go down the stairs unless he was carried. We didn’t know what in their background influenced it. We knew the dog had been rescued from Texas, where a tornado had left them along with their siblings stranded. They had potentially suffered some kind of abuse from their owners. Thrown down the stairs? Who’s to know? As I tried to gather more information, I suddenly had a harsh realization. One that particularly disturbed me as a lover of psychoanalytic/psychodynamic therapy. Sometimes, the past doesn’t matter. 

What mattered was the here and now. This kind, patient, giving woman who had adopted him had to carry him down the stairs every single time she took him out. She lived on a 5 floor walk up and her dog was around 50 pounds. Couple that with small steps and a squirming dog in your arms… needless to say, help wasn’t just wanted, it was needed. 

I had never dealt with this sort of situation before and after that recent realization my mind was completely scrambled. I can’t just go online and look for a solution. I’m the dog trainer, I should know how to solve this issue. 

“You’re no good at problem solving. This is an equation and I don’t need to remind you how horrible you are at math. You’re useless. You’re wasting her time. You don’t have the answers. You’re a phony. A fraud.” 

This was the internal dialogue that I was having while looking at the dog in desperation. Looking into his eyes as if the solution could be found there. His half hearted glance left me isolated in my confusion. Did I mention he was extremely afraid of men? As he tried to hide himself behind the couch my despair grew. 

“Great. Not only do you not have the answer; even if you did, it wouldn’t matter because you aren’t the one capable of helping.” 

I thought back to what I knew; positive reinforcement. Psychology. Neurology. I knew the way to confront a phobia was to have the fearful party voluntarily confront their fear. So no more carrying the dog down the stairs. He had to be the one to come down those steps if we were to make any progress. Hopeful, I convinced the owner of my strategy and we got to work. 

“We’re going to be a few steps below him and give him encouragement. I need you to be super excited, ridiculously positive in asking him to come to you. I’m going to place treats near the staircase and on the first few steps going down so he can have another source of motivation.”

“Okay!” 

And we got to work. I placed the treats and she beckoned out to him with grand enthusiasm. I continued to guide him step by step, not forcing him at all, just luring and supporting. We continued like this and eventually got him out the door and out near the steps, but he wouldn’t take any steps down. His worried looks slowly inflicting doubt into my heart again, his owner keeping the faith in my expertise, which at this point felt like it should be surrounded by quotation marks. 

Though there was some hope. With lots of effort on everyone’s part the dog was able to take a few tentative steps down. However, they were so cautious and became immediately victim to the same fear that was there at the start. One step forward, two steps back, literally.

After becoming aware that I didn’t know how much time had passed, I glanced at my phone. 2:55. We were 5 minutes from the end of our session. I felt some of the blood flush from my face. Three steps? They were paying me to come and help and all my influence could manage was three steps? I looked over at the owner. There she was, every motivating word that escaped her mouth full of hope still. To her, it was three steps more than her dog would have ever taken before. She only saw the progress and the potential for more. I just saw the time. 

I shook myself out of it. If we had gotten this far then we could go further. She was right not to doubt. Renewed, I decided that we would need to up the stakes. No risk then no reward. I was banking on this dog’s anxiety over his owner being greater than the anxiety surrounding the staircase. I had her go to the bottom of the flight, calling out with more confidence than ever out to her dog. After placing a horde of treats on the steps I joined her and called out too.

Sometimes I think about whether there is actually other forces at work. Some kind of spiritual authority or divine energy that animates the world around us. I never was a big believer. What I did believe in was the irrationality of miracles. They never did make sense to me. 

They didn’t have to. They don’t need my belief. 

Here came this brave boy, practically running down the steps like he had done it a million times before, straight into his owner’s arms. She was so happy she almost cried. She couldn’t fathom that her dog who was deathly scared of steps had just done that. I was shaken too- it was an incredible moment that established my title as dog trainer as credible. 

After she thanked me profusely, I left the apartment. Glancing at the dog and casting a look of absolute pride in him as I closed the door behind me. He did it. 

Little did I know in that moment how much bravery that instance had inspired in this dog. The owner messaged me later that day letting me know how he had managed to go down three out of the five total flights of stairs that afternoon. And that evening? All five. From the moment I lifted my eyes off that text I knew I wouldn’t ever diminish the faith I have in myself as a dog trainer. I was capable; and so were the dogs I trained. 

That experience was a shining example of the scientific method at play. For many of you reading this book, I predict that the issues your canine companions are having probably don’t compare in terms of intensity, but they do compare in terms of the strategy necessary to achieve results. As much faith as I have in myself and in your dogs, I place that same faith in you as someone striving to help guide your dog through all their defining moments. You got this.