Denise Fenzi Seminar: Ring Ready

A lot of people think that if their dog knows all the exercises, he’s ready to compete. Denise would argue that not only is this not true, but also that you’ve failed to prepare him for the most important part: dealing with the stress inevitable in a new environment. I touched on this a little in my last seminar post, but today let’s explore this idea just a little more.

To recap, to be successful in a trial environment, your dog should either be confident with chaos going on around you or he should be willing to take your word for it when you tell him he’s safe. Either way, you’re going to have to do some work, whether that’s doing planned exposure to a trial site or developing a trusting relationship. The latter requires that you actually step up and protect your dog, both at trials and in the rest of his life.

But the environment isn’t the only stress inherent in competition. For most dogs, the sudden cessation of classic rewards (food, toys, etc.) is frustrating. Dogs who think the lack of reward means they’re wrong can start to worry. Others will become demotivated and not see the point of working that hard. Because of this, you should both build up playful interactions that can be used as a reward in the ring and practice using these during trainings. Your dog needs to be able to work for long periods of time without toys or food.

Another stress is the sudden change in the way you’re acting. This is especially important if you tend to do most of your training alone. Most people act differently by merely having an audience, but you will also go from having your sole focus on your dog to needing to split attention between dog and the judge. At the very least, have an “invisible judge” in training with you. Look at and listen to the invisible judge. Take directions from the invisible judge. Talk out loud. Bonus points if you can play trial sounds while training. (You can totally get these free, by the way. Most smart phones will allow you to record and playback audio. Set your phone down at a trial and let it run for ten minutes or so.)

You will also need to find a way to recreate stress in yourself so that your dog learns that it’s no big deal if you tense up. I’ve heard many suggestions for this over the years, but I liked Denise’s: get a metronome (again, smart phones are awesome; download a free app), set it for between 125-135 beats per minute, and heel to that beat. This will force you to concentrate on something external, which will replicate that face you’re going to be making when listening for a judge to call instructions during a trial.

Finally, teach your dog to learn how to wait. Most people never do this in training, but dude. We do it all the time at trials. You wait for your turn. You wait for runoffs. You wait for awards. It’s helpful to practice by watching another team, but if you train alone, simply practice standing around for 5 or so minutes at a time. Denise recommended using “squishing” during this time. She recently wrote about this on her blog far better than I could, so go read about it here. 

Once your dog knows how to wait, how to work for long periods without food or toys, is comfortable with you acting weird, and trusts that you’ll protect him, then you can consider competing. What do you do to prepare your dog for the ring? Do you have other suggestions? Please let us know in the comments!

Denise Fenzi Seminar: Stress and Your Competition Dog

Be a safe person. (It helps to have more than one safe person!)

Last December, Denise Fenzi came to town. Ya’ll know I love this woman’s training style, right? And that she’s a pretty cool person on top of that? Yeah. You should definitely go to a Fenzi seminar if you get the chance. This was actually my second time seeing Denise, and even though the topics were the same, I still got a ton out of it.

My favorite bits were when she talked about stress in competition dogs. Of course, this is a topic near and dear to my heart because Maisy is a nervy little thing in competition venues. I have accepted the fact that I will probably never achieve the same level of success in the ring as Denise; I am simply not interested enough to train to those standards. Still, I enjoy a few weekends in the ring every year, so I definitely appreciated Denise’s wisdom. Today I’m going to share it with you.

First and foremost, from the moment you bring your dog home, you need to be a safe and trustworthy person. I think we all want to be this person for our dogs, but we don’t think through how our actions might undermine our goal. If we want our dogs to know that we will protect them, we need to actually, you know, protect them. They need to learn that we won’t abandon them.

This starts when we are socializing a new puppy. Denise explained that socialization is about exposure and desensitization to new things. It does not necessarily mean interaction. In fact, forcing a puppy to interact with something he’s wary of is not only likely to make him more nervous around that thing, it’s also going to teach him that you can’t be trusted to keep him safe. In fact, Denise prefers her performance dogs to treat strangers more like statues: they are boring objects that aren’t worth interacting with.

As much as possible, you should be very clear in your expectations. If you’ve ever been in a situation where you didn’t know what was expected of you, you’ll understand why. It’s stressful to have to guess about how you should be acting. It’s even worse when the rules seem to be inconsistent or constantly changing. I once left a job because my boss was so unclear! But our dogs don’t have that option.

If your dog starts throwing behaviors at you (outside a shaping session where he’s supposed to!) consider if you’re being unclear. Denise finds that dogs who do this are often frustrated and don’t know what you want, so they just start cycling through things they know, hoping to find some clarity.

Keep in mind that softer dogs are more sensitive to pressure, both physical and social. While some dogs enjoy rough-and-tumble interaction, others prefer that you interact with them in a quieter manner. This will change the way you reward your dog both in and out of the ring, as well as how train him. For example, during heeling, turning to the left (towards your dog) will be more demotivating for a softer dog as it puts pressure on him. Likewise, be careful about how and when you lean over him or otherwise get in his space.

Clear expectations are important for training, but also for trialing. Even more important than teaching your dog the behaviors needed for competition, you need to teach him what to expect at a show site. Dogs that can take your word for it if you say it’s safe will be able to focus on you, not the environment. Make sure that you prevent other dogs or people from visiting him unnecessarily at a trail. Teach him how to enter the ring, what to expect from the stewards and judge, and so on.

Denise actually had a ton more to say about trial preparation, and we’ll talk more about that in my next recap of her seminar. For now, though, I’d love to hear what you do for your stressy competition dog.

The Stress Bathtub

Sometimes, I like to think about the effect of stress on a dog’s body- or our own!- as a bathtub.

It’s impossible to avoid stress entirely, but when things are running well, stress comes in and stress goes out. It’s a nice little system that allows our bodies to cope with whatever life throws at us. Some dogs are naturally pretty chill. They are the empty bathtubs of the world. Some dogs are… well, some dogs are like ours. Anxious. Reactive. Whatever. Their bathtubs tend to always have some water in them, but as long as the level doesn’t get too high, they can function just fine.

Of course, the level in the bathtub is constantly fluctuating. This is inevitable. Sometimes something happens that causes more water than usual to come in, like a thunderstorm, or a vet visit, or an interaction with another dog. Sometimes there’s a clog, making the stress drain out slower than usual- maybe the dog is in pain or just hasn’t had enough rest. Sometimes both things happen at the same time.

When this happens, stress starts to build up. That’s fine as long as we do something to help our dogs. If we can find a way to turn down the water tap or unclog the drain, the bathtub will slowly empty out again until the dog is back to normal. But if we don’t (or can’t!) get things back in balance, the stress will keep building up until… SPLASH! The bathtub overflows. Your dog’s behavior is suddenly out of control; he barks, growls, lunges- maybe he even bites. It’s not that he wants to do any of those things, it’s just that his body can’t cope with the amount of stress coming in relative to the amount going out. This can happen to any dog, not just reactive ones.

The bathtub will continue to overflow until you do something so that the stress can drain out. Physiologically, we know that stress hormones take an average of 72 hours to dissipate. Of course, each dog is different, so it may take more or less time to completely empty his bathtub. During this recovery period, even a small amount of water- something that might not normally have a noticeable impact on our dogs- can cause the bathtub to overflow again.

It’s worth noting that dogs who have chronic stress, whose bathtubs never get a chance to completely empty, will always be closer to that overflow point than dogs whose bathtub does empty out.

Thankfully, there are things we can do to help our dogs reduce their overall water level. This can be done by either widening their drains through training that helps them cope with stress more effectively, or by turning down the amount of stress entering through medication or management techniques. The end result is a bathtub that is less likely to overflow from daily events.

What does your dog's bathtub look like? What are you doing to keep everything flowing smoothly?

How Stress Affects the Body: A Personal Story

Let me preface today's post by saying that everyone is okay.

On Sunday night, I went to bed like I normally do. I fed the cats, gave Maisy her medication, and set my alarm. Around 2am, I woke up to a loud banging noise. Initially, I thought the cats knocked something over, but the banging noise didn't stop. A quick investigation revealed that someone was pounding on my door, which made me worry that perhaps one of my neighbors needed help.

It wasn't a neighbor. Instead, I found a strange man trying to break into my house.

He was young- late teens or early twenties, maybe- screaming hysterically, and hitting and kicking my front door so hard that it left indentations. He banged on the windows, though thankfully they didn't break. His hands were covered in blood (which was probably the result of shattering our front porch light), and he wanted in.

It was terrifying.

I called 911. Just before the police could get here, the stranger disappeared around the side of the house. We couldn't see where he'd gone, which was actually scarier than when he was right in front of us. We didn't know if he was trying to get in another way, or if was going to escape entirely, free to terrorize us another day.

We later found out that he'd gone to our neighbor's house, broke a window, and crawled into their 8-year-old son's bed. I still can't decide which is worse: being a child and waking up with a blood-covered crazy person in your bed, or being a parent and waking up to discover a blood-covered crazy person in your kid's bed.

After the man was safely contained, the police told us that he was just really, really high, to the point that he was having hallucinations. He thought someone was after him and he was just trying to hide from them.

Like I said, everyone was physically fine, although we were all a bit shaken up. Needless to say, it's incredibly unsettling to have an experience like that, and I think it was possibly the scariest night of my life.

Even though I was exhausted it took me over two hours before I could even think about sleeping again. When I finally tried laying down, my body felt tense, and it was another hour before I finally dozed off. I slept lightly, and jerked awake over every little sound.

The next day- Monday- was terrible. My stomach hurt something awful, and I couldn't eat. I went to work, but had trouble concentrating all day. I felt preoccupied and easily distracted. I'm not sure I got much done. That night was even harder. I had a hard time getting to sleep, and I woke up in the middle of the night, desperately thirsty, but afraid to get out of bed. I know it wasn't logical, but I was worried that if I got up, it might cause a crazy guy to start pounding on my door. I went back to sleep without a drink.

I woke up on Tuesday morning absolutely exhausted. I think I was actually more tired that day than the day before. While it was easier for me to focus on my work, I noticed that I was incredibly irritable. I'm normally quite patient with my most mentally ill and high-maintenance client, but I found it hard to deal with him all day long. That evening, I had to teach a dog training class. My brain was fried, and my co-instructor had to do all the work. By the time I got home, I was on the verge of tears. That night was a little easier. I wasn't afraid to move around my house during the night, although it was really hard to open the back door so Maisy could go potty at bed time.

Wednesday- three days after the initial event- was better, but I still wasn't myself. I was tired and withdrawn, mildly irritable, and a bit teary eyed. I didn't have much trouble sleeping, and I definitely didn't feel as fearful as the previous two nights.

Still, I didn't feel completely normal until Thursday afternoon, which was about 84 hours after I was woken up by the banging on my front door.

Before this week, I thought I knew about stress. I've talked about how stress affects the body. I've told training students how it takes an average of 72 hours for the stress hormones to leave their dogs' bodies after they go over threshold. I've written about how I allow Maisy a week of downtime after a stressful event. But I never really understood what it's like.

Well let me tell you what it's like: it's awful. Even though I was never in any real danger (remember, the stranger was scared himself and was trying to hide), I didn't know that at the time. But even after I knew I was safe, I didn't feel much better. In a way, I was being held hostage by stress hormones.

How much worse must it be for our dogs? They don't know that whatever is scaring them and causing them to react isn't actually dangerous. Everything in their bodies is telling them that death is imminent. What's more, they don't have the language needed for us to be able to tell them that they're okay now. They can only trust that we will keep them safe.

I have a new level of empathy for Maisy and the dogs that I work with now. How awful must it be to live in a world where Sunday night happens multiple times a week? Where the people they must depend on continually thrust them into terrifying situations? And where they are constantly experiencing the restlessness, stomach upset, difficulty concentrating, and irritability that comes along with stress?

One week was bad enough. I can't imagine living life like that.

Patricia McConnell Seminar: Behaviors with a Genetic Influence

The Labrador’s desire to retrieve. The Great Pyrenees and his devotion to his flock. The Border Collie’s infamous eye. There is no doubt that each breed of dog shares more than physical similarities: they also share behavioral tendencies, a fact which clearly demonstrates that a dog’s genetics contributes to the way he acts.

But beyond breed-related predispositions, what other behaviors can be inherited? Patricia identified five, although she freely admitted that two of them are based on personal speculation alone. The other three have some science that show they tend to be pretty stable over time.

The first, and possibly the most researched, is shyness. Shyness is not the same as docility. It has nothing to do with submission. And it doesn’t really tell you how the dog will act. Shyness, scientifically speaking, has to do with fear of the unfamiliar.

This behavioral trait is actually a continuum, with shyness at one end and boldness at the other. It is influenced by the level of cortisol, the HPA axis, and the activity of the amygdala. A study by Goldsmith and Lemery demonstrated that it is surprisingly stable through an individual’s life. They discovered a correlation between a child’s cortisol baseline and his mother’s, and found that the baseline level taken one and a half years before a child started school could predict a teacher’s evaluation of inhibition at age seven.

In other words, shyness is strongly linked to genes, and is incredibly easy to pass on. This makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint: the child (or monkey or rat or cat- all have been studied) who runs from something new and unfamiliar stands a better chance of surviving than the one who boldly investigates strange and potentially dangerous things. It also makes sense then that shyness is expressed early in an individual’s development. Patricia shared that Margaret Seary Young found it was the only trait reliably predicted on puppy tests.

Reactivity is “mediated by physiology,” Patricia told us, and it is therefore logical that it would be influenced by genetics. Reactivity here does not refer to the bark-growl-lunge type of behavior problem that we dog people usually define it as. In this case, it simply has to do with how quickly and how much a dog responds to its environment.

Reactivity can be desirable in certain contexts- a herding dog that doesn’t have a short reaction time probably won’t be very good at his job. On the other hand, there are times where you need a “bomb-proof” dog who doesn’t really notice, much less respond to, what’s going on around him.

It’s also important to know that reactivity is separate from the shy/bold continuum. A very bold dog might notice and respond quickly to his environment, although he will probably do it in very different ways than the shy dog does.

Another behavioral trait that seems to have a genetic influence is frustration tolerance because it is mediated, in part, by the amygdala. However, there also appears to be a strong environmental component to frustration tolerance as well. Who can’t relate to being more irritable when tired, hungry, or in pain?

A dog who is having difficulty tolerating frustration is more likely to act out aggressively. Interestingly, aggressive dogs typically show lower amounts of serotonin and higher concentrations of cortisol, which also suggests there's a link to genes.

The last two behaviors are the ones that don’t (yet) have any scientific research to back up: predisposition to use mouth and status seeking. Both of these traits are things that Patricia has observed enough to believe they are genetically inherited. For the first, she says it just makes sense. Australian Cattle Dogs, for example, would need to use their mouths in order to herd cows. As for status seeking, Patricia said there seem to be puppies that are interested in controlling resources at a very early age… but more on that soon.

It’s clear that there are a number of behavioral traits that have at least some genetic influence. They go beyond just breed-related tendencies, and help explain why two dogs of the same breed can act quite different from one another. Of course, we already know that the environment is an important factor, too. In my next entry on the seminar, I’ll tell you about some of those factors, including in utero experiences, early stimulation, and socialization.

If You Want to Know More

• Linking temperamental fearfulness and anxiety symptoms: a behavior-genetic perspective, an article by Goldsmith and Lemery
• The genetic contribution to canine personality, by Saetre et al This study found that shyness/boldness has a strong genetic component.
• Shyness-boldness predicts performance in working dogs, by Svartberg
• Blood concentrations of serotonin, cortisol and dehydroepiandrosterone in aggressive dogs, a study by Rosado et al
• Breed Differences in Canine Aggression, a surprising article by Duffy, Hsu, and Serpell
• Behavior Problems in Dogs, by William Campbell, the book which introduced the concepts of “passive defense reflex” and “active defense reflex.”

Unreasonable Expectations

It's been about a year since Maisy and I embarked on the medication journey, and almost three since we began working on her reactivity. In that time, she has made tons of progress. I am very pleased with her current abilities to deal with and recover from stress. And yet, there are still times when I'm disappointed with her behavior.

For example, lately we have been heading over to a local obedience club once a week or so just to hang out. We do some mat work, and I reward calm behavior. Basically, I'm recreating our old reactive dog class in a new environment. She's doing quite well overall, especially when you consider that this club can get quite busy and chaotic, but she still has the occasional outburst.

The most recent one happened at the end of an otherwise excellent session. We were on our way out when she suddenly lunged and barked at two dogs. The handler had her back to us, checking in for her class, and her boxers were standing at the end of taut leashes, staring. Their appearance had already put Maisy on edge (she doesn't like dogs with cropped ears), and on top of that, their behavior was rude. No wonder she reacted.

Even though I understood why she behaved the way she did, I was still disappointed. I don't know about you, but for me, there is something particularly disheartening about a really great training session ending on such sour note. But I also think there might be something deeper at play. I think I might be suffering from unreasonable expectations.

It is unreasonable to expect that a dog will not notice things in her environment. She is a living, breathing individual whose senses not only work, but have been keenly honed to allow her to see a squirrel cautiously moving across an open field, to hear the grass rustling when a bunny moves, or to sniff out a rodent den. A dog can- and should- take in everything around her.

Likewise, it is unreasonable to expect that a dog will not respond to things in her environment. To do so is to expect her to disregard instincts that have evolved over the course of thousands of years. All animals, dogs included, naturally orient to signs of both potential food and potential danger.

It is also unreasonable to expect that a dog will never bark or growl. These are normal, natural forms of communication that allow dogs to mediate disputes and prevent them from becoming bloody fights. To believe that a dog will never vocalize her displeasure is to betray one's ignorance of what a dog is.

It is, in short, unreasonable to expect a dog to be perfect. So why has that been my goal?

While it's true that I personally have a perfectionistic streak about a mile wide, I think that societal beliefs about dogs may have contributed to my foolish quest. Movies and television programs tell us that all dogs should be friendly and outgoing. They should love everyone, all the time. They should be long-suffering and endlessly patient, putting up with ear-pulling and tail-tugging without protest. They should be willing to work for no more than a pat on the head and maybe a kind word. They should definitely be selfless and courageous and loyal- I grew up watching Lassie save Timmy's butt every week, after all.

Now, I'm not dumb. I know there's a huge difference between our real-life dogs and the ones on the silver screen. Still, cultural ideals run deep, and they are what I naively believed when I brought a puppy home almost five years ago. When Maisy failed to live up to my unrealistic expectations, I learned there was a word for that- reactive- and I set out to fix her.

I don't think that was wrong; several highly educated and extremely experienced professionals saw the same anxiety and overreactions that I did. Of course, their expectations were far more reasonable than my own. I clung to the hope that after a bit of training, Maisy would become a “normal” dog, which was really code for “perfect.”

I didn't realize that's what I was expecting, however, until I saw some of my friends' so-called perfect dogs act... well, normal. They barked. They growled. They sometimes even lunged at things when excited (but then, what do you expect a retired racing greyhound to do when he sees a bunny lure?).

In other words, those dogs that I thought were perfect? They're just like Maisy. Well, maybe not just like Maisy- she needs daily medication to achieve the same effect, after all- but the point stands: she is more or less a normal dog these days. The only thing holding her back at this point are my own unreasonable expectations.

While I have always loved Maisy, flaws and all, I have also struggled to accept her inherent dogginess. I need to relax, to stop worrying what others think about me and her both, and most of all, to stop trying to achieve the impossible. It's clear this is the next step in our journey. Well, if I'm honest, it's actually my journey- Maisy doesn't seem to have any unreasonable expectations for me. I guess I'm lucky that way. My dog may not be perfect, but she is pretty tolerant of my mistakes, and she definitely accepts my human nature.

I only hope I can give her the same gift.

Good Dogs Bite, Too: Why You Need to Understand the Bite Threshold Model

There is a strange belief in our culture that says only bad dogs bite. Of course, most people believe that their dogs are “good,” and therefore, that must mean that their dog won't bite. While I really do believe that most dogs are good, I also believe that all dogs are capable of biting. It's just that it takes a lot to push most dogs to the point where they might bite.

In her book The Culture Clash, author Jean Donaldson introduces something called the Bite Threshold Model to help explain why a “good dog” might bite. This model states that each dog has a threshold at which he will bite. It looks something like this:

 Each line indicates how much stress a dog can endure before he displays silent stress signals (like freezing, licking his lips, tucking his tail, etc.), before he growls, before he snaps, and ultimately, before he bites. Of course, each dog is different, so the lines on each dog's graph will be at a different height. For example, as a reactive dog, Maisy's growl threshold is pretty low in general, and especially if we were to compare her to a more stable dog. Interestingly, Maisy's snap threshold is quite high (it takes a lot of stress before she will snap at someone), and while I've drawn a line for where I think Maisy's bite threshold might be, I honestly don't know where it actually is since she's never bitten anyone.

Donaldson also says that each dog has “risk factors” that will cause the dog to feel uncomfortable or stressed. These risk factors, taken individually, may or may not cause the dog to display any symptoms. The so-called “good dogs” will usually have risk factors that are quite low- they may not even reach the first line. Others do, but whether the owner notices that their dog is feeling uncomfortable is another matter. The symptoms are so subtle that they are often easy to miss. Here's Maisy's graph, with some of her risk factors added:

As you can see, while crowds of strangers might make her feel uncomfortable, she probably won't show any signs to indicate that. Meanwhile, she will definitely display stress if her head is touched, and the presence of children pushes her right up against her growl threshold- she doesn't always growl at them, but she might.

Most dogs- like most people- don't really want to hurt others. But given the right situation, any dog- and any person- is capable of defending himself or his loved ones. That situation happens when multiple “risk factors” converge into one single incident.

This recently happened with Maisy. Although she's quick to display stress, and even quick to growl, she very rarely snaps. Still, it happens when her triggers “stack” into one unfortunate situation. In this case, I had taken her to a group gathering. What I didn't know was that she wasn't feeling so hot (she had a bit of an ear infection starting), nor did I know that there would be a child there. So when the little one reached out to pet Maisy's head...

Yup, she snapped at the little girl. It all happened so fast that I didn't get a chance to stop the child that had approached. I felt horrible, of course. I'm always sad when I can't protect Maisy, and I hate that others saw her as a “bad dog” that night. I also want to be a good dog owner and keep others safe, and while the child (and her parents) weren't upset by the incident, I felt bad that the girl had a bad experience with my dog.

It's important to note that while the graph presents a logical, orderly progression of behaviors, that's not always the way things play out in real life. Although Maisy did stiffen briefly as the child reached for her, she did not growl. There wasn't time; the triggers stacked too quickly. Behavior also isn't linear. Our dogs are individuals, and so is the way they respond. Not only are each of their thresholds at different levels, but sometimes they will be missing a threshold entirely. For example, people sometimes punish growling, which can result in the loss of that particular line. That means that a dog could go from freezing slightly to biting without ever growling- the so-called bite without provocation.

Perhaps Maisy isn't the best example- although she's never bitten anyone, I'm not entirely sure that others would call her a “good dog.” (I, of course, think she's amazing.) The point remains, though: a series of relatively small things can stack up to the point that even the best of dogs will bite. In fact, sometimes I think these “good dogs” are the most dangerous. Because Maisy has been “bad” so frequently, I have a pretty good idea where her thresholds are, and so I can pretty accurately predict when she's more likely to snap or bite. People with “good dogs” don't have this advantage, and if and when things stack up in just the right way, they will be surprised by their dog's behavior.

If you have a good dog, I urge you to think about situations where your dog's behavior has surprised you. Think about how high each of his thresholds might be, and what types of things are likely to push him to each one. Do thunderstorms unnerve him? What about someone reaching for his rawhide or food bowl? How does he feel about children, other dogs, or men in hats? Pay attention to the times he stiffens up, freezes, tucks his tail, ducks his head, or licks his lips. These are all signs that he is feeling uncomfortable, and that situation should be put on your graph.

I hope that your dog never encounters a situation where all of those risk factors pile up into one big, scary stack, but if he does, the bite threshold model will help you understand why your good dog ended up biting. If you want to avoid such an incident- and who wouldn't?- I encourage you to be proactive. Being aware of your dog's stressors is a great start. If you see things beginning to stack,  avoid a possible incident by simply putting your dog somewhere safe, like in a crate or another room.

More ambitious dog owners might consult with an experienced dog trainer or undertake a counter-conditioning program in order to help reduce each stressor. If you lower the height of each risk factor, then when they begin to stack, the overall effect will be lower as well. Perhaps the dog will only snap instead of bite. And while a snap is still scary and something I take seriously, it is far preferable to having your dog bite.

So don't believe the cultural lie that good dogs don't bite. As the bite threshold model demonstrates, it's not bad dogs that bite, it's stressed ones... and good dogs get stressed, too.

Maisy's New Ability to Recover from Stress

Recently, I found myself without a dog sitter. We have always left Maisy with a trusted family member (and Maisy adores them, so we know they're doing it right), but unfortunately, we had plans the same weekend they did! None of my friends can take Maisy for a variety of reasons (mostly because they all have crazy dogs, too), so we were stuck.

 Maisy loves Uncle Jim. Too bad he couldn't take her this time.

Then someone told me about A Dog Spot, a boarding facility about two hours away, run by some mutual friends of ours. They started A Dog Spot because they hated leaving their own "crazy" dogs with people, and I went to Clicker Expo with one of them, so I figured it would be okay.

Okay? It was amazing. They talked to me on the phone every day, telling me what Maisy was up to, and how much they loved her (well, how could they not?). When they noticed that Maisy winced every time the metal door shut, they padded it for her. They spent tons of one-on-one time with her. I was very pleased.

Maisy spent four days there, so I expected her to come home and be a bit stressed out. I took behavior logs since I'm still interested on how quickly she bounces back from stress, after all. And here's the absolutely awesome part: I wrote nothing down. Nothing for an entire week!

I am so, so excited. One of my huge goals for when I chose to put Maisy on medication was for her to be able to recover from stress quicker, and I'd say we've met that goal now. I also cannot say how pleased I was with the staff at A Dog Spot. Seriously, if you live in northern Iowa, southern Minnesota, or southwest Wisconsin- check them out.

Sarah Kalnajs Seminar: Stress in Dogs

The second day of Sarah's seminar was largely about aggression. Again, the day was just jam-packed with video. Of course, it was largely video of scary dogs, but still: it was nice to practice all of the information on body language that we had learned the day before.

So why do I mention aggression when this post is titled “Stress in Dogs?” Because throughout the weekend, Sarah's message was that stress can lead to aggression. This is especially true when we combine chronic stress with increased arousal because dogs under regular, repeated stress never have the opportunity to fully recover.

This has to do with the physiology of stress; within half a second of a stressful thing, the dog's adrenal glands begin to produce both adrenaline (which causes “hyper-alertness” by increasing the heart rate, blood pressure, and blood-sugar levels), as well as cortisol. Cortisol is a hormone which the body continues to make long after the adrenalin rush subsides, and as a result, it can take a minimum of seven to ten days for a dog to fully recover from stress. If a dog doesn't get the chance to fully recover from stress, he will have chronically elevated cortisol levels and a drop in testosterone. This leads to fatigue, slowed metabolism, and a weakened immune system, all of which lowers a dog's threshold for aggressive behavior.

As a result, it seems to me that we dog owners would be wise to pay attention to our dogs' stress levels. Unfortunately, this can be difficult because stress is sort of a nebulous concept. Not all dogs are stressed by the same things. Similarly, every stressed dog will react differently, and will show different signs of stress. Complicating matters even further, stress-related behaviors are very fluid, and a dog's stress level can change back and forth very quickly.

To address that last point, Sarah shared what she called the “two key indicators of internal emotional state.” First, is the dog eating? If you offer the dog a treat that he normally enjoys and he refuses it, it's highly likely that he's feeling stressed. Sarah also recommended paying attention to how the dog eats. Maisy becomes frantic in her treat-taking when she's stressed, but I've seen dogs that become slow and act is if they are doing you this grand favor by taking the treat. The second indicator is to ask if the dog responding to well-known cues. For many dogs, “sit” is a great test (Sarah also suggested “shake” as a commonly known cue). If the dog is normally quite solid in his performance and is now acting as if he can't hear you, or is responding very slowly, it is probably because he's stressed. If you see indications of stress in your dog, Sarah advised that you should modify the situation or, if that's not possible, to leave entirely.

But remember- the recipe for disaster combines stress and arousal! Arousal is similar to stress in that the dog's body releases a hormone called epinephrine. This increases the dog's heart and respiration rate. So if you have a dog that's already suffering from constant, low-grade stress, it's easy to see how just a little more excitement could push a dog over the edge.

Some things which dogs often find arousing include sudden changes in the environment (such as someone coming or going), being unable to access a desired person, dog, or thing due to barriers like fences or restraints like leashes, and intense, unrestrained play. These are generally seen as good things- owners coming homing, seeing another dog while on a walk, or going to a dog park are all things most dogs enjoy. No matter how exciting these events are, they also increase the dog's arousal levels. If the dog happens to be stressed when something arousing happens... well, the end result might be unpleasant. Therefore, it seems obvious that we need to reduce the amount of stress in our dog's life in order to ameliorate the potential interactions of stress and arousal. 

Sarah identified a number of causes of stress, ranging from undersocialization or social conflict to a lack of physical or mental exercise. On the flip side, too much activity (and not enough rest) can also be stressful; dogs need 17-20 hours of rest a day, but this should come in spurts, not all at once. Another set of seemingly contradictory causes of stress is a complete lack of structure as compared to too much structure. In other words, in order to modulate a dog's stress levels, we need to create balance and stability in his life.

Sarah also recommended setting up a “safety zone.” This is an area where the dog can get some down-time. It shouldn't be a place of isolation, but it should be a relatively low-traffic area with low visual stimuli; the dog shouldn't be able to see people coming or going, nor out any windows. The safety zone should be a comfortable place with plenty of low-key reinforcement (bully sticks and Kongs instead of tennis balls and squeaky toys, for example), and a place the dog spends time regardless of whether or not you're home. Sarah also uses DAP and Through a Dog's Ear CDs in her dogs' safety zone in order to promote relaxation.

Finally, Sarah recommended teaching what she calls the five foundation behaviors: a bridge sound that tells the dog reinforcement is coming (ie, the click-treat relationship), targeting skills so that you can encourage a dog to move without having to touch him, focused attention (eye contact that is both on-cue and automatic), a do-not-proceed cue like “leave it,” and a turn-away cue that encourages the dog to move in a different direction. A sixth bonus behavior is teaching your dog impulse control. All of these skills will allow you to deal with a stressful event or begin behavior modification if needed.

By giving our dogs appropriate exercise and structure we can help reduce stress. By giving them the space to relax, we can allow them to recover from stress. And by teaching them the five (or six) foundation behaviors, we can give them the skills they need to deal with stress. This helps prevent the terrible combination of stress and arousal that can lead to aggression.

It's your turn now! I'd love to hear what you do to help reduce your dog's stress level. Maybe you do something similar to Sarah's safety zone- please share the details of your set-up! Or, perhaps you have found another foundation behavior that really helps your dog deal with stress. No matter what it is, I'm looking forward to hearing what you do to help your dog!

Ghetto Supastar, that is what you are, comin' from afar...

It's been a hard week for Maisy and I, and as happy as I was to receive the news that she's healthy, I didn't quite realize that there would be more in store for us. You see, Maisy had to have her belly shaved in order to get the ultrasound, and she wasn't pleased about this. It must have itched, because in the first 24 hours, she had licked herself so much that there was a red, raw spot on her belly.

 This is after several days of healing.

As I consulted with my friends about what to do, I realized that I had a problem: she hates wearing things, and that's pretty much the only way to stop the licking that could lead to a skin infection. I ended up modifying an old white tank top to provide complete belly coverage, resulting in a free, light-weight solution.

It's also a bit ghetto fabulous.

Still, it was just one more stressful thing to add on top of everything else, and while I couldn't do anything about the fact that she had to go to the vet, I could have helped her by preparing her for some of it. In fact, there are many, many things I could (and should) do to help her feel more comfortable: teaching her to accept all types of restraints, including on her side and her back, helping her learn to accept having her temperature taken, heck, I could even desensitize her to getting shots.

But I'm kind of a lazy trainer, so for now, I'm going to limit my focus to wearing things. I chose wearing things as a general category because while being restrained and getting shots are unpleasant, they're also brief. Unfortunately, when a dog needs to wear something, it's typically for a longer period of time.

Here's what I think Maisy should learn to wear:

First, a muzzle. During the emergency visit, the vet chose to put one on her, a decision that I understood given the fact that Maisy's record includes the diagnosis “fear aggression.” Truthfully, I even welcomed her decision, hoping that if they felt comfortable she couldn't bite, they would not feel the need to restrain her as tightly or roughly as they might have done otherwise.

Next, things on her body. As I mentioned, right now she's wearing a t-shirt in order to prevent her from licking her belly, but I think she should also learn to wear bandages (she had one on her front leg after having an IV catheter placed on Thursday). We will also work on wearing harnesses, just in case she ever needs some kind of mobility assistance in the future.

Finally, I want her to learn to wear an elizabethan collar (also known as the dreaded cone of shame). Although I hope like crazy she will never need a surgery necessitating the use of a cone, it seems wise to be prepared for such an eventuality. We've had several bladder issues now, and it seems possible that we might need to do something more invasive in the future. Again, I hope not, but better to have a skill she doesn't need than to be missing one she does!

So how am I going to teach her to do all this? Why, with cookies, of course! There's a great video here about creating a conditioned emotional response to a head halter, and I fully intend to do variations on this theme as I help Maisy learn to cope with (and love!) wearing stuff.

We've already started with her fancy shirt: I give her freeze-dried tripe as I'm putting it on. I don't hold her down or force her into it. I don't even have to drag her over to it or hunt her down. Instead, she chooses to come to me when it's time to put it on. Why? Not because she loves the shirt (although I hope that will come in time), but because it predicts stinky, tasty treats.

Maybe once we've accomplished this we can branch out into other medical procedures. Even if we don't, though, learning to be comfortable wearing things will be incredibly helpful because it will dramatically reduce both the duration and intensity of her stress (and remember, stress stacks on itself, so several days of low-grade stress can be just as bad and one highly stressful event).

What about you? What one thing could you do to teach your dog to be more comfortable during veterinary procedures? I expect everyone will have a different answer (you know, since we all have different dogs), but I'm looking forward to seeing your responses- I might steal a few for myself!

Rethinking Normal

Maisy chilling at my husband's office- a relatively unfamiliar environment.

This behavior is normal now, but it wasn't six months ago...

Last week, I wrote a post in which I shared a video of Maisy in a fairly busy, novel environment. I was pleased by that big helicopter tail and her willingness to interact with people. I was happy that she was willingly entering the seminar room, and even pulling me to get in. And mostly, even though I knew she was a bit stressed, I was just thrilled with how well she was handling it. She could never have done that six months ago.

So I was quite surprised when Dr. Duxbury, Maisy's veterinary behaviorist, responded to my happy email by saying that she didn't like seeing Maisy so stressed. Now, I knew that Maisy was stressed in the video- she was moving slightly quicker and tighter than usual- but I thought it was pretty subtle. I guess I should be glad that I have a veterinary behaviorist that is skilled enough to see more than I can, but mostly I was embarrassed. After all, while she may be the expert on dog behavior, aren't I supposed to be the expert on my dog?

After several phone calls to trusted trainers (and friends), and what might be a potentially unhealthy level of obsession, I think I've figured out why I missed it. The key was in what Dr. Duxbury said- that Maisy was “on hyperdrive” in the video. In other words- all that moving around? Stress. Even though I know that excessive movement or pacing can be a sign of stress- heck, it was discussed at the very seminar where I took the video- I didn't recognize it as such because I thought it was normal for Maisy.

As Maisy begins to stabilize on medication, I'm learning a very hard lesson: I have no idea who she really is. Sure, I have some clues- she loves playing ball and chasing chickens, for example- but her base personality? Well, it's possible that I'm just now seeing it for the first time.

You see, when Maisy was a puppy, I thought she was a social butterfly. In puppy class, she flitted around on the end of leash, going from person to person, and she never stopped moving. I thought she was simply excited and happy to see everyone. Meanwhile, at home, she had a never-ending source of energy. I never saw her sleep until she was almost six months old, and then only because she'd just been spayed. She was constantly on the go, getting into things and climbing up the stairs obsessively.

As she grew older, the sociability morphed into leash reactivity, while her energetic nature began to express itself in constant scanning and pacing. Although I knew the reactivity and hypervigilance was a problem, I thought the rest was just part of her personality. She's a herding dog mix, after all, and aren't herding breeds known for being sensitive and high-energy?

This explains why I looked at that video and saw Maisy acting normal, and Dr. Duxbury looked at it and saw a stressed dog. For awhile, I played with the idea that she was wrong, that she just doesn't know Maisy as well as I do, that she has no idea who Maisy is. But when I thought about, I realized that wasn't right at all. When I take an honest look at the dog Maisy has become, I am convinced that all that excitement was a symptom of her anxiety.

These days, Maisy is a pretty laid-back little dog. She no longer gets the nightly “zoomies” like she used to, and she isn't constantly dropping a tennis ball in my lap anymore... or chasing the cats... or just wandering around aimlessly. As I write this, she is flopped out on her side next to me on the couch, which is pretty much the norm now. This isn't to say that she's drugged or lethargic; on the contrary, she can go for a two hour off-leash hike, and still be begging for more while I'm dragging my sorry butt back to the car. Even out in public, she's pretty relaxed. For example, when we hung out at the rally trial recently, she spent most of that afternoon in my lap or rolled over onto one hip. And while she was pretty excited to see some of her human friends, it wasn't with the same frantic abandon that she demonstrated in that seminar video.

The truth is, there are enough red flags in Maisy's puppyhood that I believe she suffered from anxiety from an early age. Just because certain behaviors might seem normal for her doesn't mean they're part of her true, non-anxious personality. I can't compare her behavior only to who she was. While it's important to do so in order to recognize how much she's improved, it also leaves me with some pretty big blind spots. I need to check those areas, and instead of assuming that something is simply part of who she is, I need to consider how the average dog would react, and ask myself, “Could this be stress?”

Of course, I know that Maisy is an individual, and as such, she will never conform perfectly to the notion of what a normal dog is, but then, no dog can. Therefore, I also need to compare her behavior to how she acts in familiar environments. Although this might apply to a wide variety of places, she's most comfortable at home, so I need to think about how she might react if we were there instead. If the behavior would seem odd in a familiar context, I need to consider that it might be stress, no matter how often I've seen her do it in the past.

Really, I'm saying that I need to rethink normal. I can't simply pass something off as part of of her personality because I don't really know what that is. Maisy is growing and changing every day, and I'm constantly surprised by what she's capable of now. I can't limit that growth by fixating on a “normal” that's no longer true. Instead, I need to be willing to challenge my assumptions about who she is, and accept who she becomes. Only when I do that can I help her move forward and realize her full potential. It's going to be hard, and I won't always get it right, but it's going to be worth it in the end.

This is a stressed dog?

Last weekend, my husband and I went to a Sarah Kalnjas seminar, hosted by Paws Abilities Dog Training. The seminar was great, but that's not what I want to talk about today (don't worry- I'll tell you all about it if/when I ever finish my posts on Clicker Expo!). Instead, I want to tell you how awesome my dog is.

The seminar was held in Rochester, MN, which is about a ninety minute drive each way from where I live. Because that would be a lot of driving, and because we wanted to hang out with all our cool Rochester dog friends, my husband and I decided to stay in a hotel for the weekend. Since it was Easter weekend, though, we couldn't leave Maisy with her usual puppy-sitters, which meant that we had to bring her with.

Hotels can be stressful places for dogs: it's an unfamiliar environment and there are lots of strange noises. Maisy has stayed in hotels before, and generally finds them difficult to cope with. Still, I was hopeful that given her medication, and her recent good experiences with stressful environments, it would go better than it has in the past.

It did, though it didn't go as well as I had hoped. The first night, she barked, growled or alerted to every single little noise. This was complicated by the fact that this hotel had fairly poor sound-proofing, and no fan in the bathroom (which I always use for white noise). Still, she did settle in and sleep through the night okay. I got her out of the room at lunch, and spent an hour throwing a ball for her in a nearby park after the seminar finished for the day, but she was moving just a bit quicker than usual, and taking treats a little harder- both signs of stress.

The second night actually went better, which surprised me. Usually when under stress, she does worse as time goes on if the source of her stress is not abated. But that night, she only barked once, and that was when someone rattled on our door at 11pm- a perfectly reasonable reaction, and one I rather liked. It seemed as though she was getting used to the environment.

Despite this, she had a harder time navigating the hotel hallways on Sunday morning, and did lunge at a couple people. I found this disheartening. I know that she's a recovering reactive dog, and as such, is prone to relapsing. Beyond that, even "normal" dogs have stressful moments, but still... It was hard to see her so stressed.

All of which is to provide some context for this video:




Does this look like a stressed dog to you?

Seriously, this video was taken on Sunday during the lunch break- so after she's spent over 36 hours in a pretty stressful environment. Although the room isn't overly crowded, there are quite a few people in there, and most of them are strangers (she did meet a few of them the day before). Although she does shy away from someone part way through the video, it's a pretty minor reaction (and the only time I saw her do it all weekend).

The best part is that she recovered quite well from all the stress. We returned home that night, and she slipped right back into our daily routine. She did have two outbursts in reactive dog class on Tuesday- so I know the stress was still affecting her- but she was able to cope quite well at home. This is a huge difference from last fall, when she had a very hard time recovering from Thanksgiving weekend with my parents. 

Again, I'm just so thrilled with how Maisy is doing. I know the medication has helped her a lot, and it's fun to see her true personality shine through as a result. It's fun to see her being such a social butterfly, to see her being so much more confident and willing to interact with people. And the coolest part is this is how she acts when stressed. I actually had people look at me disbelievingly when I told them this was my reactive dog. Sarah Kalnajs herself said she wouldn't have known Maisy's a "problem dog" unless I'd told her.

But that's probably because she's not. For all that she has reactive tendencies, she's really becoming pretty darn normal.

Trial Stress: Things I Can Do

In a post last week, I identified a number of stressors that are present at trials, and wondered if it was really that strange that Maisy gets upset about them. I was grateful to hear from others that their dogs find some of the same things stressful, too. Of course, what separates Maisy from other dogs is her response- barking, growling, lunging- all things that are problematic in a trial setting. Still, by identifying the stressors, I am half-way to having a training plan to address those reactions. Today, I want to work on the other half of the plan.

The first stressor I identified was a change in routine. There's a number of things that can happen here, and some I will simply avoid: we will not be driving long distances and staying in a hotel. I can pack our trial bag, crate, etc. the night before. But the early morning walk has to happen, so I will prepare for this by taking her on morning walks a few times a week so that it becomes normal. I really ought to start this now, but it's still cold and dark at 6am, so we'll work on it this summer.

Next, Maisy needs to be comfortable in her crate. I need her to be relaxed between runs, whether that's in the car or in the trial building. Not only that, but she needs to be able to do so despite the noise and chaos going on around her. We've been working on this in our reactive dog class. For the last several months, she's stayed in her crate where she can see the other dogs working for the full hour. She's doing well, although she does mouth off at least once during class. Still, she's lying down and mostly looks calm the rest of the time, which is a huge improvement. We will keep working on this.

Another cause of stress is all the noise: barking, whining, handlers talking to their dogs, applause, dogs running and jumping, equipment being moved... there are lots of sounds. I plan on desensitizing her to these noises by using audio recordings of trials... and since I'm too cheap to buy one, I made one when I stewarded yesterday! I love smart phones. I loaded it on my computer, and I've started playing it at low volume while she's eating. We will also visit run-throughs, training centers, and actual trial sites when we can.

Maisy is very sensitive to visual stimuli, especially movement, but also larger, dark-colored dogs. I will work on this through counter-conditioning. I've been taking her to pet stores lately, but I will also make an effort to go to parks, run-throughs, and trials. Yesterday, Maisy waited in the car while I stewarded, and then she came in for awhile. At first, she was worried by a rottie, and did a small lunge and soft wuff in his direction. I ignored that, but the next time the rottie came out of his crate, I stuffed her full of treats, and by the end of our visit, while she was still pretty tense, she was silent while watching him. This is a great step in the right direction.

Next, navigating the crowded spaces often present at trial sites can be stressful. If she were taller, I'd use targeting to move her through the spaces, but, well, she's not. Instead, I will slowly start exposing her to progressively more populated places, heavily reinforcing good behaviors like eye contact, and monitoring her body language for stress so that I can move her away before she has a reactive episode. Some places I will take her include pet stores, run-throughs and actual trials, and pet adoption events.

Then there are the inevitable space invaders: unwanted physical interactions with other dogs or with people. I feel like she's become more social over the last six months. I'm sure part of this is the medication, but I've also been making an effort to call her away from interactions after several seconds (and thus relieve the social pressure) and giving her a treat. She's figured this out, because sometimes she'll rush to a person when cued, and then rush right back to me and nudge my treat hand. I've also been doing this when dogs sniff her unexpectedly. I will also be assertive and stop the people I can, and will try to protect her crate space by blocking access to it. I've been thinking about either buying an ex-pen and setting that up around her crate- or using folding chairs to surround it- as well as crating in the car when the weather allows.

Finally, there's the little matter of handler stress, and for this, I see only one solution: alcohol, and lots of it. Okay, I kid. I will probably always suffer from ring nerves to some degree, but I've been working on visualization exercises that helped at our last trial. Stewarding seems to be helpful too- seeing trials from the other side makes them far less intimidating.

Anyway, those are just some of my ideas. I know you guys are super-smart, so I'm hoping you'll have some excellent thoughts. Do you think these ideas will work? Is there a way that you think I should change them? Or do you have another suggestion entirely? I'd love to hear what you think!

What the Steward Saw: Thoughts on Trial Stress

You can tell Maisy is stressed in this picture because

she's licking her lips and doing a "look-away."

Last Sunday, I got to steward for a local obedience trial, something I enjoy doing. Not only do I love watching highly-trained dogs working in harmony with their handlers, but I also appreciate the behind-the-scenes insight you can only get from working closely with judges. Unfortunately, a lot of what I saw made me sad. There were many stressed dogs with equally stressed handlers, which led to a vicious cycle of each stressing the other out even more. Worse, it seemed like many people were oblivious to their dog’s stress levels. How, I wondered, could they not notice?

I’ve been pondering this all week. Initially, I wanted to dismiss the question with a judgment about their priorities or training methods, but that seemed hypocritical (after all, Maisy and I are no strangers to trial stress). It’s also unfair, because let’s be honest, we handlers have a lot on our minds at trials, which makes it difficult to see the often subtle signs of stress in our dogs. Even so, it was hard for me to watch, and I wish I could have said something to those competitors with stressed dogs. I didn’t, mostly because I’m no expert on the matter, but being a steward offers a unique perspective. Today, I’m going to share what I saw.

First and foremost, I don’t think that any of the dogs I saw were purposely misbehaving. Yes, some of the dogs were blowing off their handlers, but I really believe that it was due to stress, not naughtiness. As a result, it seems to me that each competitor needs to learn how their particular dog acts when stressed. Each person should know if their dog tends to stress up or stress down, as well as the specific body language displayed.

I know that Maisy stresses up, and about the only good thing about it is that dogs that stress up are pretty obvious. Maisy barks and lunges, but other dogs might run around like crazy or bark excessively. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the dogs I saw this weekend were the kind that stressed down. Instead of getting excited and out of control, they responded slower, wandered away from their handlers, and just generally checked out. Their accompanying signals of yawning, panting, and lip licking were pretty subtle, which may be why their handlers didn’t notice. Other signals- like avoiding eye contact, sniffing excessively, and scratching themselves- could have been overlooked as distraction.

That’s the tricky part with stress- context matters. For example, Maisy gets the zoomies when she’s having fun, and sometimes stuff smells good, and yes, there are times when dogs just aren’t interested in working with us. However, a lot of the dogs that I saw this weekend demonstrated multiple stress signals in quick succession, which is why I believed that the issue was stress instead of misbehavior.

A dog that is too excited is clearly not going to be able to focus in the ring, but neither can a dog who’s taking a mental vacation, so once we’ve learned to identify stress signals, it becomes our job to help the dog work through them. I saw someone at the trial who did a great job of managing her dog’s arousal level. Before she went in the ring, they played a low-key tug game which really seemed to get her dog in the zone. Then, between exercises, she used simple things like encouraging her dog to jump up on her as a reward, as a method of stress relief, and as a way of connecting with her dog. Her dog looked happy the entire time, and they turned in some darn nice scores, too.

I also think that it’s important that we avoid contributing to our dog’s stress. Part of this is getting a grip on our own ring nerves- another topic in itself- and another is working hard to act the same way at trials as we do in training. Excessive cheerleading or increased focus on our dogs might seem helpful, but if this isn’t how you normally act, your dog is likely to perceive your actions as weird and worrisome. If you can’t control the way you act at trials, then my advice is make it normal by acting weird in training, too.

Similarly, we need to learn how to manage our reactions when our dogs screw up. I know that it’s frustrating when our dogs make a mistake, and especially when we can’t figure out why. We work hard to get ready and then spend a lot of money to enter a trial. I won’t lie- I’ve been deeply disappointed at trials before, and it’s hard to keep your dog from picking up on that. Unfortunately, I think that Sunday was one of those disappointing days for a lot of people; every dog entered in utility NQ’d.

But what I noticed is that each dog’s stress level- and success later in the day- was greatly affected by the way their handler reacted when things went wrong. Some people got louder, used a firm or scolding tone of voice, had angry looks on their faces, or got stiffer in their movements. I’m not sure if they were just struggling to control their emotions or if they were trying to get their dogs to shape up and act right. Either way, usually the dog just got worse.

Others spoke encouragingly to their dogs, kept an upbeat attitude, or even smiled and laughed at their dog’s error! Is it possible that by doing so, they reinforced their dog’s mistake? Sure, but those dogs also learned that being in the ring is fun, happy, safe place, and this enabled them to return for a later class and ace it. To be honest, I’m not sure why some people reacted differently than others, but I suspect that this, too, is something we need to practice.

And finally, I think we all need to remember that this is just another game we play with our dogs. Every team has a bad day, and if there’s anything I’ve learned from stewarding, it’s that the judges know this. They can see past the mistakes and appreciate the beautiful moments, and they don’t like to give out NQ’s or bad scores any more than we like to get them. So relax. Take a deep breath. Have fun and enjoy the moment with your dog.

Anyway, that’s just how I saw things, sitting ringside as a steward. I know that stress at trials is a big issue, and there's no way I can cover everything in one post. I’d love to hear what other people have learned, especially the seasoned competitors.

What to Do After a Stressful Event

Maisy rests in her daddy's lap after a stressful day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the effects of stress this week. I guess this is to be expected, because last Thursday, Maisy and I had another run-in with a loose dog. Long time readers will remember that this is not the first time this has happened to us, but I learned from that experience, and now carry citronella spray on all our walks. I’m glad I do, too, because this was not a friendly dog. (As a side note, it is not actually comforting to have an owner yell, “She doesn’t bite!” as their dog is rushing at yours full speed, growling and snarling.)

Although the incident was very scary, it had the best possible outcome. I was able to get the citronella spray out quickly, which was effective in driving the other dog off; it never got closer than five feet from Maisy. I was pleased with Maisy’s response, too- instead of rushing forward toward the dog, as she has in the past, she hid behind me. Perhaps I’m being anthropomorphic, but I like to think she did that because she trusts that I’ll protect her.

Even so, there’s no denying that stressful events like this really affect her. A certain amount of this is to be expected, and I’ve even written before about the effects of stress hormones on the body. As a result, I’ve been thinking a lot about what we should do for our dogs after a stressful experience.

My initial response seems to make a big difference in Maisy’s response. My goal is to help her through the immediate crisis by acting calmly and taking control of the situation as much as possible. Maisy is incredibly sensitive to my moods, so even though I felt incredibly panicky and like crying hysterically afterwards, I had to keep it together for her sake. I made a deliberate effort to breathe normally, to walk loosely, and to talk to her in as normal of a voice as possible.

Part of this is possible because I prepare for the worst. In this case, I had practiced using the citronella spray, which allowed me to remain calm and act quickly. I had also done some desensitization and counter-conditioning with the it (thanks to Sara for the idea) so that it didn’t add to Maisy’s stress. I also carry treats with me every time I take Maisy somewhere. As we were walking away, I fed Maisy a continuous stream of treats. This allowed me to both assess her mental state (not too bad, actually) as well as do “damage control.” I’m quite sure there are no amounts of treats that can overcome the emotions that come from an experience like that, but it offers a certain amount of normalcy.

Because subsequent stress can retrigger a new wave of stress hormones in the body, I’ve found that it’s incredibly important to keep the first 24 to 48 hours low-key. I’ve seen a number of references that suggest that the most important factor in recovering from stress is rest. As a result, the first day or two should be as boring as possible.

For Maisy, this means we don’t leave the house except to go potty. Even time in the yard needs to be minimized as you never know who might walk by your yard. No demands should be made on her during this time, and this includes training. If she initiates play, that’s fine, but it should be kept short and sweet. For the most part, she should be sleeping.

After the initial 48 hours, I gradually add activities back in to her routine. Easy training activities (nothing new!), extended play time in the yard, and very short walks in the neighborhood (longer ones are okay only if I know we won’t encounter scary stuff) are incorporated back into our lives as I see less edginess and her startle response decreases.

It might seem excessive, but I try not to return to "normal" for about a week; this site says it can take up to six days for the stress hormones to return to normal, and I believe it. Maisy is definitely edgier for several days after a stressful experiment. On Monday- four full days after the incident- Maisy growled over things that normally wouldn’t provoke a response: kids on skateboards a block away, a person sitting under a tree, a motorcycle parked in a driveway.

Despite the reduced amount of activity, I try to keep things as normal as possible. I must admit, this is hard because things like our daily walks or evening training sessions are a huge part of our routine. Still, I feed her the same things on the same schedule, play with her if she asks, and allow her free range in the house, even if that does mean she doesn’t rest as much as she might otherwise.

This is what seems to work for us. I suspect that some version of the same things would work for most dogs, although the timeline will likely vary a bit dog to dog. Similarly, some dogs may be able to tolerate more or less activity at different times than Maisy can. I think the real key is watching our dogs’ body language and adjusting our expectations as needed.

CU Seminar: Final Thoughts

Mostly relaxed in her crate at the seminar.
Photo by Robin Tinay Sallie.

I really enjoyed going to the Control Unleashed seminar. Seeing the demos in person and getting feedback on my handling skills was amazing, but perhaps the most profound lesson came in two short, simple statements. The first is simply a reminder:

Practice doesn’t make perfect… it makes permanent.
Every time a dog (human, whatever) does or encounters something new, that novel experience creates new pathways in the brain. (I’ve heard this referred to as “dendritic branching,” though I'm probably grossly simplifying the concept.) Initially, that pathway is faint, like a deer track in the woods, but each time that the dog does that behavior, the pathway gets stronger.

I think of the well-practiced behavior as an interstate: easy to get on, fast to get you where you’re going, but difficult to turn around if you discover you’re going the wrong way. And just like the roads the ancient Romans built thousands of years ago, these behaviors can become permanent. While that may be desirable for some behaviors, it is less than ideal when it comes to reactive ones.

The take-away message is obvious: Don’t let your dog practice behaviors you don’t like. Find ways to manage the situation, manipulate the environment, or distract your dog so that you avoid reactive outbursts. I really believe this is part of the problem I’m experiencing with Maisy: she’s just practiced lunging at other dogs so much that it’s the most obvious path for her to take when she’s feeling uncertain. I just hope that action isn’t yet permanently part of her world.

Of course, it isn’t always easy to prevent behaviors you don’t like, which brings us to the second thing:

Don’t be afraid of a high rate of reinforcement.
This advice was actually kind of ironic. Not a week before, I’d been complaining about how hard I have to work to prevent Maisy from reacting. As long as I kept my attention on her, and kept feeding her treats, I told my trainer, she’s fine. But that’s exhausting, and inevitably, I need to shift my attention elsewhere, so my efforts fail. I said that I wanted to be able to use fewer treats.

After the seminar, though, I don’t think that should be my goal. After all, a high rate of reinforcement can prevent a reaction. A high rate of reinforcement gives the dog something to do, and it gives them something to focus on. It keeps them on a path you like, and off the troublesome ones- not to mention the fact that it can prevent those pesky brain interstates.

Instead, the goal should be twofold. First, I need to get better at reading Maisy’s body language, and shifting my expectations based on what I see because there are legitimately times where Maisy can make good decisions. She can think through a situation and choose to do something I like, and I have no problem reinforcing those moments. But at other times, she’s too stressed to think, let alone make a good choice. Even if I think she should be able to handle it, I need to honor what she’s actually telling me. I shouldn’t delay a treat that could prevent a reaction just because I think she should be able to handle the situation.

I also need to help her build new roads. I’ve begun doing this in two ways. I’m helping her learn to relax through the relaxation protocol, and I’m helping her learn new communication strategies through the either-brilliant-or-idiotic “poke” cue. Both of these things will hopefully build new paths that are easily accessible, and maybe someday even more accessible than the current ones.


It’s funny how hearing the same old thing in new words can make all the difference. Neither of these ideas are ground-shakingly new- I’ve heard them both before- but the way Alexa phrased them really helped me understand them better. Or maybe I was just ready to hear them now. Either way, I have to believe that in the end, we’ll be a better team as a result of our time with Alexa.

...and maybe I spoke too soon.

Maisy may have been amazing on Monday night, but on Tuesday night, she was... not. Truthfully, I knew that I will always need to be cautious with her. In times of stress, she will probably always fall back on her old, reactive coping skills.

And she did last night.

We went to our regular reactive dog class, and she did okay for the most part. She started with a play lunge towards another dog, and slowly deteriorated from there. She had a number of loud, obnoxious lunges, some with barks, some just rushes, none of it awful, though still mildly disappointing, especially after the awesome night just 24 hours prior.

I can't say that I was surprised, though. I mean, Monday night was off-the-charts stressful, and Maisy held herself together amazingly. Still, it had to have elevated her adrenaline and cortisol levels. Although I have yet to find anything definitive, most sources suggest that it can take 72 hours (or more) for cortisol to dissipate from the body after a stressful event.

This website does a nice job of discussing the differences between adrenaline and cortisol, and this one does such a nice job of explaining how those elevated stress hormones affects reactivity that I have to quote a brief portion:

High levels of adrenaline are associated with heightened vigilance, anxiety, lowered thresholds of sensory perception; these make the dog more reactive to stimulation, rather than thinking. Higher levels of glucocorticoids cause an overactive stress response and depression. After a stress response it can take days for the glucocorticoids to go back down to baseline levels. If the dog has another stressful situation before this happens the entire cascade of the stress response starts all over.

As an interesting side note, today, while I was trying to figure out how long those hormones remain in the dog's body, I read that you can help reduce the cortisol levels through exercise immediately following the stressful event, massage, and, interestingly, some dietary things, such as magnesium, omega 3s or vitamin C. I'll have to try both the exercise and the massage, and do more reading on the dietary factors.

Anyway, all of that is simply to say that Maisy's reactivity last night wasn't really a set-back. In fact, it was actually an expected result. That not only helps me feel better about it, it also confirms the decision I made a few months ago to scratch her from a second day of trialling. At the time, I just didn't think she could do the second day, but didn't understand why. My trainer had agreed, saying that she thought Maisy was probably a one-day dog. Now I'm quite sure of that. That's really a valuable thing to know about my dog, and so I'm grateful to have had the experience last night.