One of my private
training students was recently recounting an incident in which her
anxious, reactive dog left her side during agility class, ran over to
another student who was holding her dog, and jumped up towards the
dog, growling and snapping.
“I've never
thought of him as aggressive before,” she told me, “but that
scared me.” Then she said something that made my heart fall: “I'm
thinking about using a shock collar the next time something like that
happens.”
Long-time readers
know that I am not a fan of hurting or scaring dogs in the name of
training, especially in the name of a sport. There are good reasons
for this, like the possibility of serious unintended consequences,
but mostly I don't want to hurt my dog. I love her. Of course, my
student loves her dog too, and so I kept my thoughts to myself and
simply said, “Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking.”
We talked through
the situation; what was happening before and after, what the class
instructor said, that kind of thing. My student told me that she was
scared that her dog might hurt someone else. She was angry, because
she thought her dog was beyond that kind of behavior. And she was
losing hope that she would ever be able to take her dog to agility
trials. I empathized with her. I've felt all those things, too.
“Well,” I
said, “I would be lying if I said that using corrections doesn't
work. But your dog is already pretty anxious, and I'm concerned that
if you were to use a shock collar on him, it would only increase his
anxiety.”
She nodded. “Yeah.
Our agility instructor was worried it might create a negative
association with the obstacles, too.”
We talked a little
longer about the idea, and I concluded by saying that while every
person and dog is different, I don't think she needs to use a shock
collar on her dog. He's trying so hard to be good, and there is a lot
she could do increase the odds that they will be able to compete in
agility together some day. Still, I told her, that decision is
ultimately hers.
“Thank you for
not shaming me.”
“Well,” I
said, “It wouldn't have helped, would it?”
She laughed and
said no. Then, more seriously, she shared that when she's suggested
the idea to other positive trainers, they've reacted so negatively
that it shut her down completely. Not only did that make her feel
bad, but it also meant that she didn't get a chance to learn about
why they felt it was a bad idea, or to learn other options.
That makes me sad,
because I really believe that my job as a dog trainer (and for that
matter, as a social worker, too) is to educate my clients about their
options, share my recommendations, and then empower them to make
their own decisions. Of course, I hope that they will follow my
advice, but if they opt not to, I want to be able to refer them to a
trainer who has the skills needed to minimize the risks inherent in
the use of punishment.
Besides, I like
people. I don't want to shame them- that's just mean. And if I
wouldn't be mean to a dog, why would I do it to his owner?
6 comments:
And this is why you're awesome.
I love the way you handle this. Simply beautiful.
"but if they opt not to, I want to be able to refer them to a trainer who has the skills needed to minimize the risks inherent in the use of punishment."
That is an awesome point that so many miss. Good post!
This is a lovely post. I try my hardest to be positive with people even if I disagree or am concerned, especially if that person is a pet parent just trying to do their best. My job is to educate not chastise.
This is a great post. A very good reminder to think about how we communicate with others to maximize the chance of getting the message across. Thanks!
This is one of the hardest lessons for me - which happened after I unintentionally shamed a friend just by my gut reaction to seeing her dog in a pinch collar mid way through a class I was teaching. We should all strive to practice the same principles on people that we use for our dogs.
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