The Luxury of a Lie

As a rule, I consider myself to be a pretty honest person. Although it would have been easy to present Maisy as a better dog than she was (and myself as a better trainer than I am), I've always opted to lay it all on the line on this blog. I've tried to avoid making excuses for her behavior. I've uploaded videos largely unedited. I've talked about some of the dumb mistakes I've made. In short, what I've written on the blog is pretty much things as they are.

But recently, I discovered the luxury of a lie.

No, not online. In real life. You see, Maisy and I were out for a walk around the neighborhood. When we are out, the vast majority of the time I will say no if anyone asks to pet her. If someone tries without asking, I use body blocks to prevent them from getting close. But one of the things that has always confounded me is how to respond to the question, “Does your dog bite?”

 Not biting, but definitely not comfortable, either.

I quickly learned that this is apparently how children in my neighborhood ask for permission to pet a dog, so even though the answer is technically no- at least if you are looking at the past to predict the future- I've found that actually answering in the negative isn't good enough. Kids are fast, and she's come close to biting when I haven't been able to add “but you can't touch her anyway” quick enough. Which is why when the question came up last week... I lied.

The child in question stopped dead in his tracks, and then started backing away. When we were later approached by an 18 month old, I fibbed again, telling the toddler's mom that her child couldn't pet my dog because she bites. The mom thanked me for keeping her baby safe, and continued on their way.

Sure, this departure from stark honesty was a bit weird, but it was also kind of awesome. It was so easy, and I didn't find myself making excuses and giving lengthy explanations for why they couldn't pet my dog. My lie was readily accepted, and incredibly understandable. Some dogs bite, and you shouldn't approach the ones that do. By giving Maisy this really horrible label, I relieved us both of a lot of discomfort.

So while I can't say that I find lying comfortable, exactly, I do find it somehow luxurious.

Can I Pet Your Dog? How to Say No Without Sounding Like a Jerk

The last time I heard this question I was at a pet store. I turned to see a smiling employee, looking at Maisy expectantly. Shoot, I thought. I really hate this question; it gets tiring to be the “mean lady” who always says no, but... this woman looked very nice. What to do, what to do?

Every dog owner has probably experienced a similar moment of indecision, or worse, not had a choice at all. I have had toddlers suddenly lay on top of my dog in order to “hug the doggy,” children sneak in and touch her butt, and even adults who have trouble understanding that not every dog is a social butterfly. This is frustrating even when your dog is stable, but for those of us with temperamentally unsound dogs, it's a nightmare. Being continually put on the spot is difficult, and no one wants to be rude. But I've seen how uncomfortable Maisy looks when being touched by strangers, so saying no is often part of the deal. So how are we to balance politeness with protection?

I have a three pronged approach that I use the vast majority of the time. Sometimes I follow these approaches sequentially, and sometimes I skip a step. No matter how it plays out, though, I have had a lot of success using these three steps:

Step 1: Management
My first line of defense is management; I always attempt to manipulate the environment so that the question never even comes up. One of the easiest ways to do this is to avoid the situation entirely. If you see someone headed your way, turn and walk away. Cross to the other side of the street. Duck into a different aisle in the pet store. Find some way to prevent the question from being asked.

If you can't leave, sometimes using nonverbals will communicate that you aren't interested. Avoiding eye contact and turning your attention elsewhere works for the socially savvy. If a verbal interation impossible to avoid, keep things brief. Nod politely, give the shortest response possible, and move away.

Finally, it is very important to be aware of your surroundings. Avoiding someone is no good if it means you don't see the other person behind you. You need to pay attention to what's going on around you and be ready to step in if need be, which leads me to...

Step 2: Be Direct
Can't prevent contact? Then it's time to be direct. If the person asks if they can pet your dog, say no. You don't have to explain yourself- a simple no will do- but if you want to give a reason, do it after you've said no so that the first thing they hear is that they can't touch your dog. A good way to phrase this is, “No, I'm sorry, but she's shy.”

Body blocking in action. (Maisy looks happy because Dobby is her friend.)

Of course, this doesn't work when people don't wait to hear the answer. For this reason, I often perform a body block to prevent a person (or their dog) from approaching mine. To do this, shorten your leash and move your dog behind your back as you step forward into the approaching party's space. Most people (and dogs) will take a step back. This move not only serves to emphasize your response, but also provides a visual barrier.

I'm less polite with people who don't ask. I will augment my body blocks by holding up a hand like a traffic cop and say, “Stop!” The sheer forthrightness of my statement usually startles people into compliance. I then try to soften the blow by saying, “Sorry, but she doesn't like to be touched.”

I highly recommend practicing what you will say and do before you're put in the situation. Most people have a hard time saying no to start with, and there is definitely a cultural expectation that all dogs should enjoy interacting with strangers. Have a family member or friend pretend to be a stranger, and practice different ways of saying no. Find the one that feels most natural to you.

Step 3: Redirection
I have the hardest time saying no to children, especially the polite ones who ask. If there's enough space, I'll say, “No, I'm sorry, you can't touch her. But would you like to throw her ball?” Most kids are thrilled with this offer. I always tell them the rules: no touching, no chasing, and that I will hand them the ball instead of having Maisy bring it directly to them. Then I let them play. The kids are generally satisfied with this interaction, and Maisy gets some valuable counter-conditioning. It's a win/win situation for everyone.

When I don't have the room needed, or if it's an adult that asked (they're usually less impressed with ball play), I ask if they'd like to see her do some tricks. Obviously, it's helpful if your dog knows a show-stopping trick, but in my experience, most people are impressed if your dog will sit and lay down when asked. Amp up this simple obedience by telling them your dog knows sign language, and use hand signals instead. You'll knock their socks off.


These three things are what I do most of the time, but sometimes- like that day in the pet store- I get tired of saying no. If the person seems willing to follow directions, I'll let Maisy decide. I looked at the employee. I'm not sure why, but I thought I could trust her, so I replied with a maybe.

“She's a little shy, so you can pet her only if she comes up to you. Crouch down, turn sideways, and hold out your hand.”

The woman did as I said, so I told Maisy, “Go say hi.” Maisy walked about halfway to the woman, then stopped. She looked back at me at me, the hesitation clear in her face. I called her back and gave her a treat.

“Sorry,” I said, shrugging. “I guess you can't pet her today. Thank you for asking, though.”

I felt a little bad, especially since the employee was willing to follow my directions, but as I looked down at Maisy, the relieved expression on her face made it worth it. I was glad that I could respect her wishes and say no. And I didn't even have to sound like a jerk to do it.

It's Okay to Say No

I've been around this block before, 

both literally and figuratively.

Now that the weather's nicer, Maisy and I are starting to encounter other people while we're out on walks. I wouldn't mind this except it presses the issue: do I let people greet her?

When Maisy was younger, I allowed it. For one thing, I was a bit too Minnesota Nice to say no, and besides, it was good socialization, right? As I became more dog-savvy, I started to realize that Maisy didn't particularly like to say hi. My trainer taught me the importance of protecting my dog, and so I started to say no. In fact, I learned to be downright rude if need be, holding up my hand like a traffic cop and loudly saying “STOP!”

Since Maisy's been on medication, though, her reactions have changed. She's seemed more social. She's been fine around scary dudes and unfamiliar dogs. As a result, I've been watching her body language and making greeting decisions on a case-by-case basis.

Last week this was put to the test... and I think I failed. Here's what happened: Maisy and I were out for a walk. She was in high spirits and pretty exuberant. A group of pre-teens was walking towards us, and when our paths met, one was clearly interested in meeting her. For her part, Maisy was soft and wiggly, leaning towards him inquisitively, and so I allowed him to pat her.

Maisy was not pleased. She squealed and rushed away, tail tucked between her legs. I felt awful. How could I have read her so wrong?

In truth, I don't think I did. I think she just expected something else. The young boy did everything wrong- he leaned over her, trying to pet her on the head- but he didn't know that dogs don't like that. The average person has no idea how scary this is to a dog. Maisy may have wanted to say hi, but she didn't want to say hi to a rude primate.

I should have been proactive and told him how to greet her. I should have asked him to kneel sideways, let her sniff his palm, and then stroke her chest. But it all happened so fast that I didn't have time. It wasn't Maisy's fault, it wasn't the boy's fault, and it wasn't even my fault, not really.

Still, it was my responsibility, and I failed. I'm kind of glad I did, though, because after I got over my initial feelings of shame and guilt, it helped me figure out how to answer people when they ask, “Can I pet your dog?” I'm not going to squirrel her away in a protective bubble, never allowed to meet anyone. I don't think that's any healthier than forcing her to greet everyone we cross paths with. But I can't count on her to tell me when it's okay, and I certainly can't count on the general public to know how interact with dogs politely. From here on out, my rule is that if Maisy's on leash, she will only greet people that I know are dog-savvy. If she's off leash, she can greet people if she chooses, but I won't ask her to. She can approach- or not- by her own free will.

In other words, I realized that it's okay to say no. It's okay to say no to the people who want to say hi, it's okay to say no to Maisy's wiggly body language, and it's okay to say no to myself when I wish that she could greet strangers. I don't have a normal dog, after all, and you know what? That is okay, too.

Protecting Our Dogs, Part 2: Practice Makes Perfect

As we discussed in my last post, there are a number of different ways to protect our dogs. I’ve chosen to use citronella spray in order to protect Maisy from off-leash and out-of-control dogs. Today, I’d like to tell you about what I did to prepare both Maisy and myself before I had to use it for the first time.

The first time I bought citronella spray, I bought two cans. One was for protection. The other was for practice. No matter what method you choose to protect your dog, it seems wise to figure out the mechanics of how it works. In the case of the spray, I needed to learn how to quickly disengage the safety lock so that I wasn’t fumbling around with it in the heat of the moment. Once I was able to do that smoothly, I practiced using it so that I understood the range and how to accurately hit what I was aiming for.

After I felt comfortable using the spray alone, I brought Maisy into the picture. Part of the reason citronella spray works is because it has a strong scent that dogs typically want to avoid. Since I didn’t want to add to the stress of being rushed by a strange dog, I conditioned Maisy to associate the smell of the spray with good things. I started by squirting a small amount away from Maisy and giving her a high value treat. As she became comfortable with this, I slowly sprayed it closer and closer to her, until I was aiming directly over her head. (Full disclosure: I got the idea to do this from the amazing Sara.)

This worked well, and the first time I had to use the spray, I felt comfortable with it. While Maisy was upset by the incident, I knew that I had done everything I could to minimize the impact of the spray as a stressor. (Incidentally, after every use of the spray in the real world, I wait for a week or so, and then repeat the conditioning exercise with whatever is left in the can.) However, I found that I wasn’t sure how to both use the can and manage Maisy at the same time.

The solution was to teach her to hide behind me. We’re still working on this, because a behavior has to be incredibly strong to even have a chance of working when a dog is stressed or over-threshold. Still, Maisy is learning that when I step forward, move in front of her, and use the arm closest to her to sweep back towards her, it means that she should go behind me. I’ve been telling her to “get back,” but I also think “go home” would be a nice cue, because that’s what I say to the other dog. When I teach the cue, I try to use a louder, sterner voice than I usually do with her so that when I yell at the other dog, it doesn’t surprise her as much.

These two simple steps have prepared Maisy and I for the vast majority of the encounters we have had with off-leash and out-of-control dogs. I really wish that I didn't need to spend so much time and energy worrying about such encounters, but the truth is, they really set Maisy back in her training. The residual stress impacts her for at least a week, if not longer. Plus, there is the very real risk of physical injury. Thankfully, having prepared both of us for potential encounters makes them less stressful when they do happen.

Protecting Our Dogs, Part 1: Making Decisions

Because she shouldn't have to say hi unless she wants to.

Writing about our awesome new place to walk earlier this week must have jinxed us, because Maisy and I encountered two loose dogs there the day after I posted about it. Thankfully, these were friendly dogs out on a romp, not the frustrated, aggressive ones we’ve encountered in our own neighborhood.

Even so, I found this upsetting, because there is no reason for Maisy to have to put up with rude dogs simply because they “want to say hi,” and there is no reason for me to require her to do so, even if the other dog’s owner says he’s friendly. Suzanne Clothier has written a wonderful article about this. Although I agree that Maisy would be within her rights to defend herself against rude dogs, I have come to believe that it is my job to protect Maisy from having to do so.

This means that I have developed some strategies for protecting her. I thought it might be helpful for others to read about what I do, and I know it will be helpful for me to read about what you guys do. That said, this topic is bigger than I can adequately cover in one post, so today, I’d like to discuss the decisions that need to be made before taking action. Although I’m primarily writing this from the perspective of protecting Maisy from other dogs, I will mention other situations where applicable.

The first step is to figure out how much protection your dog needs. If you have one of those mythical “normal” dogs, he might be able to emotionally withstand rude greetings. My dog, however, cannot. She’s been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and has fear issues. Beyond that, though, she is small and physically vulnerable due to her long back and poor structure. Larger dogs- even if they are friendly- could easily hurt her during an overly-exuberant greeting.

As a result, I have a no-tolerance policy with loose or out-of-control dogs: I spray first, and ask questions later. This has not made me popular with their owners, and I have been yelled at. Frankly, I think I’d feel the same way if our roles were reversed, so I carefully consider the risks involved if I choose to let Maisy off-leash in a place where it is not permitted. (I never take her to designated off-leash areas.) I also try to communicate with other owners whenever possible, and always ask them to keep their dog away from mine.

I absolutely love the owners who extend me the same courtesy by asking me if their dogs can greet mine. I usually say no, explain why, and thank them for asking. I only say yes if Maisy seems especially interested and the other dog is either small or extremely calm. This is definitely something you need to think about in advance, though, because it is easy to feel pressured and agree without fully considering the matter.

As a side note, I no longer allow children I don’t know to interact with Maisy at all. Most kids will scream “puppy!” and start chasing after her. I have found that it is easy to stop them by stepping in between them and Maisy, holding up my hand like a traffic cop, and loudly and firmly saying “Stop!” I also decline when children ask if they can pet her. I used to try to coach them on how to interact with her, but found that they rarely listened to me, and that even when they did, Maisy seemed stressed.

Anyway, once you’ve decided which situations require an intervention, you need to decide how you will do it. The first time Maisy got jumped by another dog, I kicked it. I felt awful about it even though I knew I needed to do it to prevent her from getting hurt. Besides, relying on my feet as a defensive maneuver requires that the other dog get far closer to us than I am comfortable with, and leaves me open to the possibility of being bitten myself.

For awhile, I tried putting myself between my dog and the other dog. When I did this, I would draw myself up to my full height, lean forward towards the other dog, and very sternly tell it to go home. This was effective on some dogs, but not that many. It was also difficult because Maisy, being reactive, had a tendency to rush forward and tell off the other dog. Not very effective.

I’ve heard of people interrupting an approaching dog by flinging a handful of treats at their face. Although I always carry treats with me, I’ve chosen not to do this. Personally, I find it difficult to get in my jeans pockets, grab a handful, and then aim accurately under pressure. Maisy also has a tendency to resource guard, and I worry that she might provoke a fight because the other dog is not only approaching rudely but also eating her treats!

Ultimately, I settled on using citronella spray. I chose it because it is effective at stopping low to medium level aggression, yet is not painful. This means I don’t have to worry about Maisy being hurt if she was accidentally sprayed or if the wind blew the spray back towards her. I also really like it because it has a range of ten feet, which means I can keep approaching dogs well away from Maisy.

So far, I’ve used the citronella spray a number of times, including on the two loose dogs at our new park. It has worked every time, including an incident with a dog that terrified me, although I have learned that some methods of administration are more effective than others. I still don’t like doing it, but it’s the best method I’ve found so far.

I’ll share more about how I use it in the future, but in the meantime, I’d love to hear from you guys. How much protection does your dog need? When would you feel the need to intervene, and when do you think your dog can handle himself? Have you ever needed to protect your dog in some way? What did you do, and how effective was it? I’m sure you guys have some great ideas I haven’t thought of, and I can’t wait to hear them!

PS- I know the picture in this entry isn't that great, but I decided to use it anyway. For one thing, I don't have any other pictures of Maisy with a strange dog. Plus, I just have to brag about how well she did- even though the dog in the background barked his fool head off at us, Maisy just sat there looking at me with that big, goofy grin! Also, I love those people- their dog was on a leash, and they didn't allow it to approach us.