I took all four dogs to the dog park and no one died.

Two marvelous things happened on Friday. I found myself with the day off, and it was nice out.

After a long Minnesota weather, I was eager to get out of the house, and I figured the dogs were, too, so I made the decision to take them all to the dog park. I don't usually take Napi to the dog park because of all the crazy, but I decided to take the risk for a number of reasons:

1. The dog park we go to is huge and wooded, limiting the amount of interaction you have with other dogs,
2. It was the middle of the day on a weekday, further limiting the number of folks that would be there,
3. Napi seems to have the highest energy level of my dogs, meaning he needed the exercise most, and
4. I wanted to see how he was doing on the meds.

This probably isn't something I'd recommend others do, but at the same time... well, it was nice out. And you can't keep your dogs in a bubble; you need to provide challenges from time to time. And it was nice out. Yeah, mostly we went because of cabin fever. I decided that we'd leave early if Napi really couldn't handle it, and I made him drag a leash so that if he was a jerk, I could easily intervene. (And I did several times.)

Napi actually did fairly well. Here's a video of early on in our park trip:



And here's one from the end of the park visit:



Both videos suck from a cinematic standpoint; I was more focused on him vs. keeping him in the frame. Sorry about that. Anyway, he did better the longer we were there - the opposite of how Maisy is/was.

In the first video, he was barking at that other dog. He would actually snap at other dogs that he thought were threatening. A few times he was right - one dog was super stiff in its body language, and another was bothering Maisy - and a few times I think he was just guarding me/my treats/his buddy Pyg.

The second video is even cooler. You can see him stiffen up when he sees another dog approaches (it's a Springer, not that you can tell), and he then chooses to come to me for a treat. So does the other dog, but Napi only growled a tiny bit (I can't even hear it on the video).

What these videos tell me is that while Napi still has a long way to go, he's making nice progress. He's learning to think a bit before reacting. He's able to exercise some small amounts of self control. He can recover quicker from stress than he could before. He sees me as a safe person he can depend on.

Despite all this, the dog park will not be a regular part of Napi's life. He's still practicing more bad behavior than I'd like, and besides, the park will only get busier and more crowded as it gets nicer out. I don't want to risk a dog fight, and I do think that's a distinct possibility. Still, it's nice to celebrate success with a reactive dog.

There Are No Magic Pills... But There Might Be Magic Thundershirts?

After my most recent post on Napoleon, my vet and I have been experimenting with as-needed, short-acting drugs to see if we could find something to help him calm down and relax around the house. We've experimented with different drugs and different doses and different frequencies and... well, let's just say that the amount of trazodone that will knock me out does nothing to him.

I tend forget about deep pressure type wraps since the time we tried a Thundershirt on Maisy was an epic disaster. As in, she got even more anxious. Still, Maisy dislikes being touched and Napi loves it, so yeah. Then I tried an anxiety wrap on him (ie, an ace bandage because I'm cheap and it was handy) and... OMG. He just curls up and goes to sleep. Oh, he still notices when our upstairs neighbor comes and goes, but the barking lasts for a shorter amount of time, and it's less intense. The hyper-vigilance is reduced, and it's just basically... well, magical.

But the magicalness of the pressure wrap really came home to me when I signed up to share the rental cost of a local training building with a few friends. I'm not really sure what they worked on, but Napi and I worked on not freaking out around other dogs and people. We started out in the lobby, behind barriers and slowly worked up to being in the same room with the others. Okay, they were mostly sitting still, and we were a good 40 feet away, but HE WAS LYING DOWN AND QUIET. Relaxed? No. Eating treats? Yes, which is better than the last time we tried to do something similar.

We're renting the training building for the next couple weeks, and while I was initially planning on taking a different dog each week, now I'm thinking it will be Napi-only. We have the potential to make a ton of progress, and I'm really excited to see how he does.

Canine PTSD: What Makes a Bad Experience Traumatic?

I’m currently reading the book The Body Keeps the Score: Body, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, by Bessel van der Kolk. It is a fascinating, enlightening, and incredibly accessible book, so if you have any interest in the topic, I highly recommend it. The book is about humans, not dogs, but as most things do, the book makes me think of things canine-related. So, while my speculations are just that – and not fact – because dogs and humans have very similar brains in terms of structure, chemical reactions, and neuroplasticity, I feel comfortable trying to make some analogies.

Not a reactive dog. This blog just doesn't have enough Lola.

So, I’ve already posted about the idea that reactivity seems similar to PTSD in some ways, how treatment of PTSD tends to take a multi-pronged approach, and how that might inform our training strategies. But what makes something traumatic?

The truth is, we cannot save ourselves or our dogs from bad experiences. Bad things just happen, and they happen to everyone. What’s more, not all bad things have the same consequences. But why is that? Why are some people (and dogs) traumatized, while others bounce back just fine? The answer is undoubtedly multifactorial, and one of the most important predictors in whether or not a bad thing rises to the level of trauma is how the person/dog was able to physically react.

Brain science time: When we face a stressful event, our brain and body secretes stress hormones (like adrenaline) that serve to “fuel resistance or escape.” Your basic fight-or-flight response. Our bodies are basically pre-programmed to stop thinking and to run for safety; once there, those hormones can dissipate. After that happens, the fight-or-flight response turns off, and our rational brain turns back on, allowing us to understand that the threat is over.

Dr. van der Kolk argues that the ability to move, to do something is critical. Immobilization keeps the body in a “state of inescapable shock and learned helplessness.” The brain and body keep secreting hormones, and as a result, continues to react as though that threat is still present, even long after the situation has ended. Dr. van der Kolk says this is why, for example, 90% of sexual abuse survivors will develop PTSD – because they cannot escape the situation, and thus the fight-or-flight response continues to be activated.

Now, let’s think about our dogs’ lives. Part of responsible pet ownership in the United States includes leash laws, use of crates or x-pens, and other forms of restraint. And for the most part, I think these are good things. Heaven knows I don’t want an off-leash dog rushing my dogs! Of course, the problem is that when we do get rushed, my dogs can’t escape the danger. They’re immobilized, unable to recover, and PTSD can develop. (Well, assuming that the dog interpreted the oncoming dog as danger, of course. Half my dogs would welcome the playmate, and therefore not be traumatized!)

Because we humans control almost every single aspect of our dogs’ lives, the likelihood of PTSD/reactivity seems pretty high to me. Think about it: they have a reduced capacity to escape dogs or people during neighborhood walks. They can be aggravated by someone on the other side of their yard’s fence. They are unable to escape being poked and prodded at the vets. They can’t escape children poking their fingers through their crates. The more confined the dog feels, and the more dangerous/threatening the perceive the situation to be, the more likely it is that PTSD/reactivity will develop.

So. What can we do about it?

First and foremost, learn to read your dog’s body language. There are lots of great videos and books on the topic (I really like Sarah Kalnajs’ The Language of Dogs DVD). Learn what’s typical for dogs, and then learn what’s typical for your dog. Although most dogs will display similar body language, there are subtleties from dog to dog… and then there are the weirdos like my Napi, who eschews the play bow and does this weird “butt bump” thing instead.

Just as important, respond to your dog’s body language. It does no good to say, “Oh, yes, I see that Rex is scared,” but then force him into the situation anyway. Look, I get it, sometimes you really want to take him to the dog park or got to a training class or compete at that trial. But does he want to be there? And what are you risking by making him do it anyway?

Finally, offer your dog choices as often as you can. I’m not saying that he should rule the world – household rules and structure are necessary components to having a healthy and happy dog – but he shouldn’t be drug across that shiny tile floor or shoved down the stairs or pushed onto a wobble board. And in those situations where he simply must do something, take it slow, give him breaks, and make it worth his while. Better yet, for things like vet visits and medical procedures where you know he won’t have much control, prepare him in advance with husbandry training.

This won’t prevent PTSD/reactivity – like I said earlier, there are a lot of factors in determining whether a person or dog develops it – but it is something you can do to reduce the possibility, and a really nice way to respond if he’s already reactive.

Holding On and Letting Go: In Memory of Shanoa

What happens when you’ve done everything possible for your reactive dog and it isn’t enough? How do you decide when it’s time to let go? And how do you cope with the feelings of guilt?

These are terrible questions, and as glad as I am that I have not had to deal with them personally, I am devastated that one of my best friends does. On Friday, my friend Nicky made an incredibly courageous and compassionate choice for her reactive, anxious dog Shanoa, and it breaks my heart. I want to find a miracle cure for her dog, and I can’t. I want to wrap her up in love and take away all her pain, and I can’t. Instead, I sit with the knowledge that Nicky has lost her friend. And it sucks.

I met Nicky and Shanoa in 2010, when they joined the reactive dog class that Maisy and I were in. Shanoa was a beautiful Doberman from a not-so-great breeder who failed to socialize her and then sold her as an older puppy. The deck was stacked against Shanoa right from the start. The double whammy of poor genetics and no socialization is an awful combination; it’s like a house of cards built on a table with one too-short leg.

Nicky worked hard to keep the table balanced, the cards stable. And at first, it looked as though she might succeed. Shanoa was never the explosive dog in class; that was always left for Maisy. It was Maisy who would bark and lunge at everyone else. Both dogs started medication, and while Maisy showed improvements, they were subtle and gradual. Shanoa, though? She showed drastic and almost immediate improvement. I remember looking at her enviously as she slept through class in her crate, bored with the unstimulating environment, while Maisy continued to react at things. Shanoa did so well, in fact, that she became a certified therapy dog. She visited hospice patients, bringing joy and comfort.

But slowly, the positive effects of the medication wore off. Maybe her body got used to them; I don’t know. They saw the veterinary behaviorist, switched things up, and all was well again. Nicky decided to pursue nosework instead of therapy work because Shanoa enjoyed it more, and again she excelled… until the effects of the new meds wore off. And so began a years-long cycle of trying new meds, having them work initially, and then failing. There is literally not a behavior drug out there that they have not tried: multiple different SSRIs, short-acting drugs, even benzos. All showed early promise and then petered out.

When the last-ditch-effort drugs lowered Shanoa’s inhibitions, my friend recognized that they were in an untenable position. Shanoa continued to be anxious, unable to function even in her own home, let alone out of it. Even her safe places – like her crate – no longer soothed her. Meanwhile, her lowered inhibitions resulted in behaviors that required heroic management to keep everyone safe.

It must be noted that at no point was Shanoa a “bad dog.” She was a suffering dog. She had a debilitating medical condition that made life miserable for her. And at no point did Nicky fail her. She tried everything. She did the same types and quantities of training that I did with Maisy. She did drugs. She did management. She found safe outlets for Shanoa. And so she did the only thing she could.

She let her go.

I am in awe of my friend. You see, I believe that love is not about being together 24/7. Love is about sacrifice. Love is about selflessness. Love is a balance of holding on and letting go. Nicky could have held on longer. Life was difficult with Shanoa, but she could have made it work. I know that if Shanoa was difficult-but-happy, Nicky would have done whatever it took without complaint. But Shanoa was not happy, and holding on would not have been living. It takes a great deal of courage to do this - to voluntarily subject yourself to pain to save a loved one from it, to open yourself up to judgment and criticism from others. To let go.

I don’t know how to end this post, except to say, Nicky: I love you. Thank you for embodying compassion, courage, and love. I know it hurts, and I’m so sorry.

Is the Cost of Rehabbing a Reactive Dog Worth It?

Money pit.

In my last post, I told you that I have spent about $5225 in treating Maisy's reactivity over the course of her lifetime. This is not an insignificant amount of money, but - spoiler alert - it has absolutely been worth it. Not only do I love my dog like crazy, but in my mind, a behavior problem is really no different than a medical one - and few of us would hesitate to drop thousands on our dogs at the vet.

Here's the deal: whether it's behavioral or medical (a distinction which is really less clear than it might seem, considering that behavior problems can be driven by brain chemicals and such), the outcome is not guaranteed. We don't know if our dogs will survive being hit by a car, but we take them to the vet anyway. And, in both cases, there are often adjustments to be made once the crisis is over. For example, knee surgery will require crate rest and physical therapy exercises.

And, in my unfortunate experience, there isn't much difference in the final price tag. In the past year, Maisy has had three different health issues. Let's look at what these have cost.

Crisis #1: Immune-Mediated Inflammatory Disease of the Spinal Cord (aka, Meningitis)
In September 2013, Maisy became suddenly ill with what we would later find out was an immune-system that decided her spinal cord needed to die. Our first stop was our regular vet, for $520. When she continued to get sick, she ended up hospitalized at the University of Minnesota.  The three day stay cost about $2650. Out patient meds and a follow up with the neurologist was about $150. Grand total? $3320. And since it was immune-mediated, the likelihood of recurrence is high.

Crisis #2: Bladder Stones Causing Blocked Urinary Tract
Shortly after Maisy's meningitis, she stopped peeing. Her urinary tract was blocked and she had some massive bladder stones that needed to be removed. That hospitalization and treatment cost $3150. She then needed follow up care that included UA/UCs ($700) and bladder ultrasounds ($775). Total cost? $4625. And that doesn't include the ongoing cost of her new prescription food, nor does it take into account that this was not Maisy's first time at the bladder-problem-rodeo; she's had recurrent UTIs her entire life.

Crisis #3: Corneal Dystrophy
And then Maisy started having eye problems. This one was actually pretty cheap. We saw her primary vet first, for $150. Then we had three visits with the ophtalmologist ($550), and medication ($60). The bill? $760. A steal really, although again, this does not include the cost of ongoing medication she'll need for the rest of her life- about $120/year.

So, don't let the cost of rehabbing a reactive dissuade you. Dogs are just expensive money pits, that's all. But they are the furriest, most loving money pit you will ever have. And can I just recommend pet insurance? My other three dogs have it, and it's definitely worth the money.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't take the opportunity to thank everyone who helped me with Maisy's ridiculous amount of vet bills last year. I received around $6000 from concerned readers, and believe me, that made a huge difference for us. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

How Much Does it Cost to Rehab a Reactive Dog?

Last week, one of my friends texted me: her dog was becoming increasingly anxious, and could I help her train the dog? As I started to walk her through the process of rehabbing a reactive dog, I realized that I have put a LOT of work into Maisy. I knew that, of course, but when you’re in the midst of things, it’s easy to lose track of just how much work you’re doing.

So, what DOES it take to rehab a reactive dog? Well, each dog will be different, of course, but here’s what I did (or at least, what I remember doing) with Maisy:

I first realized Maisy was reactive in early 2009. I immediately enrolled her in a version of a Control Unleashed class at our training club. This class was 9 weeks long. Estimated cost: $100.

Starting in September 2009, and going through May 2011, we attended a weekly CU style class. I’m estimating that we attended about 90 weeks of class. I don’t remember the cost, but let’s say it was $125 for 6 weeks (less than what it costs at other places in the area). That’s about $1875.

Next, we saw a veterinary behaviorist. We saw her for the first time in October 2010 (approximately $550). We had follow ups in December 2010 ($160), June 2011 ($175), December 2011 ($80), and July 2012($80). Total: about $1050. (Edited to correct estimated amounts. I overestimated. And this is why I'm a social worker, not an accountant!)

Medication is cheap: less than $5/mo. So far, we’ve spent around $250 on meds. This will be a life-long expense for Maisy.

Medication requires regular blood work (every six months we get a bunch of bloods done to check liver values, etc.). Let’s estimate $200 per time, so about $1600 so far. Again, another life-long expense.

So far, this does not include time I spent training on my own (between 15 and 30 minutes a day). I also attended a Control Unleashed seminar (around $150 plus travel/hotel costs, and 16 hours in the seminar). If you add that in, it’s probably another 200 hours and $250. I also purchased a number of books to educate myself; let’s say $100 and another 40 hours in reading.

All told, the cost of rehabbing Maisy was 350 hours of my time and about $5225.

She has absolutely been worth it, but the investment was not insignificant. Many people do not have that kind of time or money available to them. Granted, this was spread out over the course of 3 or 4 years… which in itself is a huge undertaking. 

Priceless.

Did I need to go to such great lengths? Well, it depends on your goals and your dog’s behavior. I had performance goals, and anyway, Maisy never posed any real danger to anyone; there were no kids in the house and she was very low-risk for a bite. I probably could have gotten away with a lot less work and money – and indeed, many of the dogs and people I’ve worked with professionally can get away with less time and money.

Each situation will be different, and therefore, the costs and the decisions will be different. When deciding to work with a reactive dog, the first question always needs to be, “Can I keep everyone safe during this process?” If the answer is no, then it doesn’t really matter how much you can afford in terms of time and money. You need to deal with the safety issue first. 

But if safety isn’t an issue, then you need to take a long, hard look at the costs involved. If you're enrolled in a class, don't waste the money! Do your homework! Trust your instructors - and ask questions if you're concerned about their advice! Trust me, we love to personalize our instructions if you give us a chance. 

Understand that reactivity is not a quick-fix kind of thing. You really do need to hang in there through the disappointment. But also, know what your goals are. You're not going to "cure" your dog, so scale back your expectations to be a bit more realistic. Don't know what that is? Ask your instructor! Accept that the dog you have is not going to be the "good dog" that you've had in the past, or that your friends have. 

Follow up post: Click here to read about whether the cost is worth it. 

What We Know About Treating Human PTSD and How That Might Inform Dog Training

I’m currently reading Bessel van der Kolk’s new book The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Dr. van der Kolk is widely regarded as one of the most prominent experts in the treatment of trauma, and early reviews are calling his newest book the new standard in trauma treatment.

Early on in the book, Dr. van der Kolk writes:

We can now develop methods and experiences that utilize the brain’s own natural neuroplasticity to help survivors feel fully alive in the present and move on with their lives. There are fundamentally three avenues:

1. top down, by talking, (re-) connecting with others, and allowing ourselves to know and understand what is going on with us, while processing the memories of the trauma;
2. by taking medicines that shut down inappropriate alarm reactions, or by utilizing other technologies that change the way the brain organizes information, and
3. bottom up: by allowing the body to have experiences that deeply and viscerally contradict the helplessness, rage, or collapse that result from trauma.

Which one of these is best for any particular survivor is an empirical question. Most people I have worked with require a combination… depending on the nature of the particular problem and the makeup of the individual person.

Okay, you’re probably thinking, what the heck does this have to do with dog training? Let’s look at each of the three avenues that Dr. van der Kolk outlines as it applies to dog training.

Top Down Training

The first category is through “top down” interventions: talk therapy, building relationships, and processing the past. Our dogs can’t talk, of course, but it seems to me that a lot of what we do for reactive dogs is a top down intervention.

For example, using desensitization and counter-conditioning helps change a dog’s behavior by showing the dog that a trigger predicts good things (food, play) and not the bad things they were expecting (through past experience).

Here’s another example: Behavioral Adjustment Training seeks to help the dog develop a sense of control over his world by teaching him how to communicate to his person that he is uncomfortable (by sniffing, turning away, etc.), and then getting to leave the situation he doesn’t like.

Part of why I think positive training is so crucial when training reactive dogs is because of the bond it helps the dog build. I personally believe that developing a supportive, safe relationship is key in treating human PTSD, and I can only imagine that the same applies to dogs. 

love.

Taking Medicines

The second category is pretty straightforward: taking medications can help calm an overactive sympathetic nervous response and allow a person with PTSD to choose how to respond to something vs. react out of a primitive brain state. I saw the same thing with Maisy. Medications allowed her to use all the training I had done.

Dr. van der Kolk references “other technologies that changes… the brain.” I haven’t read far enough to know what he means (I have some guesses), but I’ll undoubtedly report back. I suspect that the Relaxation Protocol would fall under this category, though.

Bottom Up Experiences

Finally, people with PTSD must have safe, positive experiences in their bodies. Dr. van der Kolk is big into yoga, tai chi, rolfing, etc. For dogs, we often see great results from T-Touch, agility, and nosework. I suspect this is because those are experiences in which the dog gets to have fun or be comfortable in their bodies. In the case of nosework, especially, I think it allows them a great sense of mastery. They get to solve a problem that we humans literally are unable to solve.

As Dr. van der Kolk says, I really think that it is a combination of these modalities that is most effective. And, as he also points out, the effective ones will be unique to each individual. This is why there are so many “systems” or ways of working with a reactive dog. I know people who are practically religious in their adherence to a particular approach, usually because it worked so well for their dog.

I’d love to hear from you guys about how you think successful work with reactive dogs might fit into one of these categories.

Is Reactivity a Form of Canine PTSD?

One of the most interesting things about reactivity is that it can have a variety of causes. Some dogs have experienced a traumatic event. Others received subpar socialization. Still others are just overexcitable goofballs. And for some, we just don’t know why they overreact so much.

Today, I want to talk about some parallels I see between some reactive dogs and PTSD in humans.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a mental health condition that develops in some people following exposure to a traumatic event. The symptoms, which must last for at least three months, include:

1. Reliving or re-experiencing the event through nightmares or flashbacks,
2. Avoiding situations that are similar to the event,
3. Negative changes in beliefs and feelings, including an inability to trust others, and
4. Hyperarousal, including irritability, being easily angered, difficulty sleeping, or being easily startled.

The problem with this is, of course, that we don’t know what our dogs are thinking. We don’t know if they are having flashbacks, why they are reluctant to do something, or what they believe about themselves or others. Still, we can observe their behavior and make some educated guesses about what is driving this behavior.

Let’s start with the defining criteria: exposure to a traumatic event. For some dogs, like my Napoleon, we can definitively point to specific incidents. My fiancé saw him being abused (that’s how we ended up with him). Even when there is no obvious traumatic event, it is still possible there was trauma because the key factor to trauma is less about what happened, and more about the experience of helplessness it causes. And our dogs have very little control over their lives. For example, harsh training methods – even just observing harsh training methods – could be traumatic for some dogs. I would also argue that a lack of socialization is equivalent to neglect or emotional abuse in people, which could be potential PTSD triggers.

Now, on to symptoms: I think hyperarousal is the most easily observed set of symptoms in dogs. I know that what really clued me into the seriousness of Maisy’s issues was when I realized how little – and how poorly – she slept. She was also incredibly easily startled. Even commonplace noises like the sound of dishes clinking together could set her off. I think Napoleon is prone to irritability and/or anger, especially when he’s tired. And certainly reactive dogs can appear angry when the bark and lunge at others. In client dogs, I’ve seen restlessness, pacing, an inability to remain still or to settle down, “twitchiness,” and so on.

Some reactive dogs definitely seem to believe that danger is lurking behind every corner; being on high alert is not uncommon. Could this possibly suggest negative beliefs about the world they live in? It’s impossible to know for sure, of course, but many reactive dogs are continuously checking out their environment, as though they expect danger. Neither Maisy nor Napoleon seemed to view home as a safe place. Visual scanning, trotting back and forth through the house, and even excessive sniffing to gain information can be signs that the dog is expecting something awful to happen.

I definitely think we can observe dogs actively avoiding certain situations or people. We won’t always know why, nor if it’s related to trauma, but we can see this. Maisy absolutely refuses to step on things that might move, no matter how good the treats might be. I’ve seen client dogs refuse to walk on certain types of flooring or use stairs. (This could also be related to pain, so you need to rule that out before assuming it's emotional.)

I have no idea how you would tell if a dog was having a nightmare (I don’t see mine dream enough to be able to say if I could tell the difference between good dreams and bad), and even less clue about distinguishing a flashback. I’d love to hear some anecdotal stories about this though! Please comment if you’ve seen things that make you wonder if your dog is re-experiencing the past.

For all of these reasons, I certainly think there are some parallels between certain kinds of reactivity and PTSD. I think this is important, as it allows us to draw upon what we know from human treatments of PTSD and extrapolate it to dog training. I will touch on this topic in a future post.

MacGyver for Reactive Dogs: Window Film DIY

If your reactive dogs are anything like mine, they like to bark out the windows. Napoleon is especially bad about this, becoming downright hysterical when he sees our upstairs neighbors out in the backyard. It's loud, it's shrill, it's annoying... and it's certainly doing him no favors to get so worked up, either.

Enter window film. You can easily buy a translucent window film at about any hardware store. But, depending on the product, it's fairly expensive, and the directions seem pretty tedious. You can order it cheaper online, but then you have to pay shipping and/or wait for it to come.

I was too annoyed to wait and too lazy to run to the store, so I decided to play MacGyver instead: I taped wax paper to my windows. It's not as pretty as the stuff you buy in stores, but it's way, way cheaper, totally easy to put up, and if it doesn't work, you're out nothing.

This method blocks visual stimuli while still allowing light in. It took Napi's insane barking from a 10 down to a 3 or 4 (he can still hear what's going on outside). It also reduces the length of time he barks from omgforever to a minute or so. It's a win.

PS- I know I totally shared this over on facebook earlier, but I decided to share it on the blog proper in case you don't follow us there.

PPS- I totally only used the word MacGyver because I think Richard Dean Anderson is cute. But he's way, way cuter in Stargate: SG1 than in MacGyver.

Napi Update: 6 months on meds

Napi has been on Prozac for six months now.

Here's his before video:


And here's his after video:


Both videos were taken at our vet clinic, and there's a HUGE difference. The very awesome thing is that at that first appointment, the vet couldn't even touch Napi (she just prescribed the Prozac and called it a day). At the second appointment, he allowed the vet to do a brief exam, give a rabies vax, and draw blood. He wore a muzzle, although he probably didn't need to. He was very good the whole time. He didn't like it, but he's much less of a drama queen than Maisy!

I'm very happy with Napi's response to medication. I haven't done much training with him (just some basic recall away from the fence when the neighbors are in their yard) so he's still reactive towards people and other dogs. He has a small world right now as a result - we don't really take him anywhere - but he has a big yard that he and Pyg run around.

He is able to calm down quicker these days, and he is more comfortable around the house. We can even have guests over without too much drama. He does bark quite a bit at first, but generally acclimates within 10 to 15 minutes.

There's a lot of work to do, but I'm glad that I decided to put him on meds right away.

It's Not Your Fault: Why the Problem Might be Your Reactive Dog's Brain

Insane in the membrane. Insane in the brain.

So often, I talk with dedicated dog owners who have tried to do everything right, but have ended up with a reactive (or anxious, or aggressive, or other behavior-problem-label of your choice) dog anyway. Heck, it’s happened to me twice. Unfortunately, many of these people blame themselves. They think they must have done something wrong, because why else would their dog have so many problems? While there are certainly things that humans can and do to create issues in their dogs, the fact that most dogs are so incredibly well-adjusted despite everything is a testament to the fact that dogs are pretty resilient creatures… and that the occasional mistake is nothing to fret about.

But still, some dogs just aren’t right. From reactivity to anxiety to aggression, there are dogs who just don’t function well despite training classes and socialization and good intentions. Sometimes this is because the dog’s brain just isn’t wired right. Now, I’m no neuroscientist, but I do play one on the internet. And today, I want to share how stress can affect a developing brain, and why doing everything right may not matter if your dog came from a less-than-ideal background.

Science is pretty clear that stress in young mammals influences both brain development and physical growth. Stress can come in many forms. In children, there’s the obvious abuse and neglect, but then there’s the less obvious: poverty, housing instability, witnessing violence, growing up in bad neighborhoods, malnutrition, and so on. These chronic adverse events that the child and/or his caretakers have no control over changes the way the brain grows.

For dogs, such toxic stress during the early developmental period can happen in a number of ways. Puppy mills – and other deprived environments – are an obvious example of a stressful environment, but growing up in a shelter or a rescue can disrupt the growing brain, too. Sudden separations from human or canine caretakers, frequent change, environments characterized by sensory overload, and long periods of confinement are stressful. And even dogs from good breeders can be subjected to stress in the wrong circumstances: too much handling by a child, being harassed by another resident animal, or chronic medical problems on the part of the pup or the mother.

This does not mean that every dog from a puppy mill or rescue is going to have behavior problems. Indeed, if that were the case, people would stop getting dogs from these places. Some dogs have genes that are “turned on” by stressful events more readily than other dogs, making them more susceptible to the effects of stress. We see this in human children too; for some, stress creates a resilient brain, while in others, it creates a brain vulnerable to a host of behavioral problems.

So, just how does stress affect the developing brain?

First, it’s important to understand that stress is a normal part of functioning, and that overcoming a challenge creates a stronger brain and a sense of mastery. It is therefore important that children and dogs experience occasional frustration in doses they can overcome so that they develop the neuronal connections needed for a healthy brain. Not only is it impossible to shield your young mammal from stress, it’s inadvisable.

When a mammal experiences stress, the brain releases chemicals like cortisol and adrenaline. These prime the brain to be able to respond to potential danger. Once the stressful event is over, the chemicals dissipate, and the brain returns to its normal state of functioning. However, when stress is either prolonged or recurrent, the brain never fully gets rid of the stress hormones. This changes the way the brain develops.

Recent research has shown that there are notable differences in the amounts of gray matter vs. white matter in the brains of overly stressed children as opposed to those who experience normal amounts of stress. Basically, gray matter is responsible for higher functions like thinking and decision-making, while white matter is what connects the various brain structures. Chronic stress seems to create more white matter, which naturally results in less gray matter. In turn, this reduces the volume of brain structures that allow for rational thought in the face of potentially threatening events. At the same time, that increased white matter basically creates a short circuit in the brain. Even when there isn’t a stressor present, the brain may continue to respond as if there is. This tends to cause overreactions to things that aren’t actually dangerous.

Not only are the connections stronger between the lower brain structures that control emotional responses, but some brain structures become overdeveloped. The amygdala and other associated limbic system structures – which are associated with stress responses – are often enlarged, while the hippocampus and other higher brain structures – responsible for problem solving and rational thought – are smaller.

The end result is a brain that idles on high. It is more easily hijacked by stress, and will respond with more frequency and intensity to smaller stressors. The circuitry activates longer, and the recovery time takes longer.

In other words: your reactive dog’s brain? Is not like your normal dog’s brain. And as a result, his ability to process things that happen to him and respond to the world around him is going to be impaired. It’s not only unfair to expect him deal with the world without additional support, it’s probably impossible.

That’s not to say that your dog can’t improve. Science has shown that the brain is incredibly plastic – it can rewire itself and become more functional – but this takes a lot of time and effort. And even with the best interventions, we don’t know yet if all the scars left on the brain by stress can be erased. Sometimes adjusting the expectations we have for our reactive dogs is the kindest thing we can do.

Sources:

http://www.bbbgeorgia.org/stressEffects.php

http://www.livescience.com/20820-stress-alters-brain-kids.html

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-athletes-way/201402/chronic-stress-can-damage-brain-structure-and-connectivity

http://developingchild.harvard.edu/resources/reports_and_working_papers/working_papers/wp3/

http://www.child-encyclopedia.com/documents/Gunnar-Herrera-HostinarANGxp.pdf

Napi's Second Reactive Dog Class: So Much Better!

Napi's second reactive dog class went much, much better than the first one did.

As before, when we entered the building, he piloerected and barked all the way to our station, and it was impossible to distract him with food. Once we got into our little corner, he barked a little, but quieted down much faster and was overall quieter than he'd been the week before. He also started eating much sooner, although he did "run out of stomach" (got full) about 45 minutes into class. Small dogs are so hard that way. After that point, he found petting and close contact to be very soothing, which makes me think he might benefit from a Thunder Shirt. Although Napi spent most of his time pacing at the end of his leash, I was very excited that he was willing to sit this week! It wasn't relaxed, and calling it "settled" would be a stretch, but definitely an improvement.

Once again this week, we worked primarily on classical counter-conditioning. In my opinion, this is the most powerful tool a dog trainer has for behavior modification. It's not a "sexy" technique, and to those not in the know, it doesn't look like much. Sitting somewhere and just feeding a dog, regardless of his behavior, seems strange and even counter-intuitive. I sometimes have trouble getting my students on board with this, but creating positive feelings about being in a new environment around new people and new dogs will allow a dog to calm down enough to begin thinking and not simply reacting.

This paid off for us in spades because not only was the class better overall, we also had a nice five minute stretch where Napi was able to "become operant" - by which I mean, we were able to work on actively teaching a skill. While classical conditioning is simply about creating an association regardless of the dog's behavior (“being here means I get yummy food no matter what I do”), operant conditioning requires the dog to do something specific in order to get the food (“now I have to earn my cookies”).

People new to training think that it's all about getting the dog to do something, so I often see my students ask their dogs for operant behavior before the dog is ready – and able - to offer it. The truth is, in the first week of a reactive dog class, most dogs are either at or over their threshold. Although not ideal, it's nearly impossible to avoid. When a dog is in this state, he simply cannot think well enough to perform behaviors. He's too busy freaking out about what's going on in his environment. He has to be emotionally comfortable before he can learn anything, and classical counter-conditioning is the key to this. This is why I encourage my students to simply feed the dog. It doesn't matter if he's sitting or standing, barking or quiet, or even if he's responding to cues. Just feed the dog.

Some dogs can move to operant skills work in the first week. Others, like Napi, can't. This is okay. Behavior modification is not a race against others. Napi is definitely a turtle in that respect; he will not overcome his past quickly. This is why I spent the entire first class just feeding him. And it's why I spent most of the second class (55 minutes) just feeding him. But we were able to do a bit of doing this week. Although it's not something we typically teach in reactive dog class, I worked on teaching Napi to make eye contact. I chose this task because I wanted to reward him for coming in and looking to me instead of roaming around at the end of his leash. Bonus: he learned what the clicker means!

I have to admit, I really did not want to take on another reactive dog. And I wouldn't have, had it not been for the fact that he came as a package deal with my fiance. But I'm actually kind of enjoying it. I'm already really pleased with Napi's progress, and I'm very excited to see what happens when the meds kick in. 

Worse Than I Expected: Napi's First Reactive Dog Class

Friday night, I took Napi to his first reactive dog class. I knew going into it that Napi is reactive; I've seen him bark and lunge at people. I've also suspected that he might be a bit anxious, as he seems to have trouble settling. When he and Pyg play together, Pyg will want to take breaks. Napi doesn't. More than that, it seems like he can't. My overall goal for the entire session is to evaluate if he would benefit from medication.

For the first night of class, my goal was to get him settled on a mat – even briefly- and to teach him about the clicker. We did not accomplish these goals. Instead, I had to revise them to simply eating treats in class.

Napi is a lot more fearful than I thought. Upon entering the building, he immediately piloerected (hair on his back stood up), and tucked his tail. As soon as he saw the instructor, he started barking and growling. I scooped him up, stuck him behind a barrier, and started offering him bits of bacon and turkey. It was a no go. He was not interested in eating.

Hiding behind me, but eating!

I switched to using soft praise and petting. Napi liked this, and for the rest of the hour, whenever something scared him, he would hide behind me and press up against me. I was really happy to see this because I believe reactive dogs need to see their person as safe. Since we don't live together yet, I wasn't expecting to see this.

Napi did eventually start eating treats, although he would occasionally refuse them if things got too overwhelming. He never did go on his mat (he seemed scared of it, actually), and he never really did settle. In fact, it might not even sound like we did anything. It's true that I didn't teach him any exercises or introduce him to the clicker. But we actually accomplished a lot. I began the long process of counter-conditioning. I established myself as a safe person. I learned about the kinds of foods Napi likes and doesn't like – info that will be invaluable in coming weeks.

I also learned that although he could make a lot of progress with just training, it will not only be easier but also be more humane to start him on medications. Napi's fear response was extreme, far worse than I remember from Maisy. He was louder and more intense in his reactions. He was difficult to distract, even with food. He was slow and stiff in his body movements, and there were times he just shook from head to toe.

It's true that these reactions appeared worse because I took him out of his comfort zone. It's also true that this could be avoided by not “forcing” him to go to class. But the truth is that simply being in a new place does not change a dog's underlying personality and response to the world. The fact that he was terrified says a lot about what he's experienced and who he's become as a result.

That is no way to live. Even if Napi has carved out a little part of the world where he feels (mostly) safe, all of that anxiety and fear are still underneath. Leaving a living being to suffer like this is not kind, not when I can do something to help.

More than Just Training: Changing Your Lifestyle to Change Your Reactive Dog

Maisy is a normal dog these days, health concerns not withstanding, of course. I take her places that I would have never dreamed possible in the old days, and I do it without even thinking about it. I put her into chaotic situations- block parties, playing with children, outdoor festivals- without worrying. I used her as a decoy dog for a BAT session with a German Shepherd, completely forgetting that that breed was once one of her biggest triggers.

And guys? It's pretty awesome.

But it took a lot of work to get to this point; our (former! Sad face!) veterinary behaviorist told me that she's only seen this level of improvement a handful of times in the past ten years. Maisy's normalcy is not, well... normal. And yet, here we are.

This progress was not the result of any one thing. Medication was a huge factor, as was some environmental management/change. And of course, I did a ton of training. But when you're working with a reactive dog, this training is not limited to attending class and doing your homework. This training needs to be happening all day long.

Back when I was in the throes of reactivity with Maisy, her days consisted of either management or training. That's it. I was either doing something to prevent her from reacting, or I was actively working on her reactivity. This required me to change my lifestyle in order to accommodate her needs.

Every single walk we took required a clicker and cookies. We played Look at That. I closely monitored her body language and used the Whiplash Turn to interrupt her when she got close to going overthreshold. Sometimes, I would turn around if there was a dog or a kid or a bike up ahead that I knew she wouldn't be able to handle. I reinforced good choices liberally. I did a ton of classical conditioning: every barking dog resulted in cookies. Every screaming child resulted in cookies. Every bike that whizzed by resulted in cookies.

At home, Maisy went in a crate when guests or workmen were expected. She did not go to many dog-friendly gatherings because I knew I would be distracted and unable to give her the undivided attention she would need. That made me sad (I love having her around), but it was the best thing for her. If I knew that something was reliably difficult for her (garbage day or the neighbor's house being re-roofed or whatever), I would put her in a quiet room with a chewy and calming music playing loudly enough to drown out the sounds. (Later, after we'd started using medication, I would also give her a short-acting, as-needed anxiety drug.)

I paid attention to the things that set her off at home, like the sound of a car door slamming outside or the mailman coming or even the cats boisterously playing together. I always had treats in a pocket, and every one of these things was followed by a cookie so I could change her association with those triggers from bad to good.

We did go to classes, and we did do our homework. You really have to; if your dog only practices skills in stressful situations, those skills become predictors of bad or scary things, and can actually add to your dog's stress level.

In other words, I changed the way I lived my life so I could help Maisy. Sometimes I failed. I was tired or sick or had a bad day and just couldn't deal with her. That was okay. I managed what I could and just promised myself I'd try again the next day. There were times that I put her in situations that required a judgment call- and I made the wrong one. Those, too, were okay. I would take note of the problem and work on it later. But over time, my consistent and constant work paid off with a normal dog.

My lifestyle had to change drastically in order to reach this place, but it has been worth it. Having a normal dog is freaking awesome, and I am thrilled beyond belief that I can enjoy her company in so many more situations now.

Steve White Seminar: Introduction

In July, I attended a two-day seminar with Steve White. For those of you who aren’t familiar with him, he’s a seasoned K9 handler who has worked for both the Army and the Seattle Police Department. As such, he learned about training using the old school Koehler methods. As time went on, though, he grew tired of always having to fight with his dog. In the early 90s, he decided to find a better way.

Enter the clicker movement. He got in contact with Karen Pryor, and began reading, watching videos, participating in online discussions, and attending conferences. He applied what he learned and began having successes. At one point, he actually left a job because his boss didn’t want the unit divided by training methods and forbid him to train using more modern methods.

Now, closing in on 40 years of training dogs, he’s an in-demand speaker for both the law enforcement community and for positive dog trainers. I was very excited to see him; I’d previously heard recordings of his presentations and thought he had a lot to offer.

And he does. I enjoyed the seminar, and I enjoyed getting to know him. He’s actually a pretty neat guy beyond the dog stuff; he’s a whiz at accents, owns a kilt, and has a great sense of humor. Oh, did I have fun laughing and joking with him, and he even let me take a ridiculous picture of him and Maisy.

You gotta watch out for those Midwest Muppet Dogs, man. They'll turn on you.

Maisy was there because we had a working spot. I’m definitely glad we did (it was kind of a last-minute decision, to be honest) because I do learn best by doing. Being able to try out what we were learning was much more useful than simply watching others do.

But more than that, I gained some very valuable information about Maisy: she’s still reactive. Now, I knew that. Although I tend to call her normal these days, I am well aware of the fact that the reactivity neural pathways will always be there.

Steve acknowledged that as well, and said that a huge part of his behavior consulting business is about helping his clients accept reality. This is not always easy; how often do we humans rewrite history to better suit us? But the truth is, what has happened has happened, and no many times we revise the story, that doesn’t change the truth. Similarly, when it comes to behavior, you can’t erase a reinforcement history.

Instead, the only solution to pollution is dilution. Steve used an awesome example to illustrate this: Imagine that he has a cup of arsenic and drank it. He would probably die if he did this. Now imagine that he took that same cup of arsenic, mixed it into a bathtub full of water, and then drank it. He would definitely get sick, but he probably wouldn’t die. Now imagine that that same cup of arsenic was mixed into a swimming pool full of water before he drank it. This time he might not even get sick, but the arsenic is still there, and is still probably affecting his body, albeit in minute ways.

So what does this mean? Simply, that once a behavior is in there, it’s in there. Although Maisy is more like a swimming pool these days, reactivity is always a part of who she is. It will come out sometimes.

All of which is to say that yes, she had some reactivity over the weekend. I want to say that I was disappointed, but in truth, I’m really not. I felt bad for Maisy; she was clearly stressed and not feeling so hot. But Steve also spent a lot of time telling us that failure is just information. Which is what Maisy’s reactivity was: information.

The information Maisy gave me was that I have not adequately taught her how to cope with prolonged stress that happens in a situation where there are lots of dogs in a small area, and that happens in spaces where she feels trapped by a leash or a crate. Although I can expect her to be fine at friends’ houses, on camping trips, on walks, at the pet store, or even at a dog park, it’s because I’ve spent a lot of time teaching her how to act in those situations. I haven’t done that with seminars.

I have two options: I can work on this with her, or I can stop expecting her to be “perfect” at seminars. I’m not really sure which option I want to choose, but either way, this is entirely my responsibility. As Steve said, dogs do not fail. They perform as we have trained them to, or what we have prepared them for.

Besides, as Steve said, perfect is the enemy of good. We should focus on progress, not perfection. So, while Maisy had a very hard time over the weekend, I’m pleased that she was able to relax in her crate at times. I’m thrilled that she didn’t seem to have a “stress hangover” and that she bounced back quickly. I’m very happy that she remained responsive throughout the seminar. I’m absolutely ecstatic that she would calm down when I verbally told her “Mais, it’s okay. You’re fine.”

Anyway, the seminar was awesome, and I had a good time. I’ll talk more about the specifics in the future, but for now, just know this: you should go see Steve White if you get the chance.

Kathy Sdao Seminar: Letting Reactive Dogs Choose

The overall theme of this seminar was choices. Early on in this series, I talked about how our dogs need to have choices. I also alluded to the fact that this can be hard to do when you have a reactive dog who might make dangerous decisions. Thankfully, Kathy talked about this! Her acronym SMART (See Mark And Reward Training) actually includes a sneaky second S: Set up.

Setting up means that you control the environment and not the dog, and refers to both training sessions and life outside training. Kathy told us that so much good training can be undone if the dog practices bad behavior outside training sessions. She gave us the example of a dog who barks at windows when people pass the house. Even if you train for an hour every evening, the eight hours your dog spends barking out the window while you’re at work will have a stronger and longer-lasting impact on his behavior.

Good set ups mean that you limit the dog’s activities so that he can’t rehearse the very behavior you’re trying to change. It’s kind of like a bucket of water: if you don’t plug the holes, the water will leak out. No matter how much water you add, you simply won’t make progress.

Not drowning!

This is especially important with reactive dogs. We talk about keeping them “under threshold,” and again, this applies to both training and life. Kathy used a drowning analogy. If a child can’t swim and falls in the deep end of the pool, you not only want to pull him out of the pool but you also want to prevent him from going near the deep end again. This means that reactive dogs often need to be heavily managed or even confined early on during their training.

With a controlled environment, we can help our reactive dogs make good choices, making the neural pathways for the desirable behavior stronger. Then we can slowly add in distractions, which can become cues to perform the behavior we want. This allows us to “retire from the full-time job of cueing!”

Having lived with a reactive dog and as a result been very vigilant about possible problems, I love that phrase. In fact, this is why I eventually stopped taking Maisy to trials for awhile. As hard as it was, I couldn’t control the environment and was exhausted trying to constantly prevent her from going over threshold. Worse, I failed, meaning that the reactive neural pathway in her brain was constantly activated. Truly, going slow was actually much faster in the long run.

What have you done to set up your dog’s environment- and his life- so that he could be successful?  

Shameless Self-Promotion

I’ve never done this before (this being promoting my classes; I’ve been teaching classes for reactive dogs for two years now), but I’ve had some emails lately from local folks wondering about when and where I teach. So, if you’re from the Minneapolis area, read on. If not, you should move. Our winters are awesome!

I teach for Paws Abilities Dog Training. While the main location is in the Rochester area, I teach in the Twin Cities, and I have some classes starting up here in a few weeks. The schedule is here. I teach two different classes: Growl (levels 1 and 2) and Agility Unleashed (levels 1 and 2). Both classes are taught with two instructors. This time around it will be me and the awesome and amazing Laura.

Here’s a quick run down on each class:

Growl Class
This class is limited to four students, which means we have one trainer for every two students. This class is designed primarily for dogs reactive to other dogs. If your dog is also reactive to people shoot me an email at reactivechampion(at)gmail(dot)com and we can chat about whether or not the class can be set up to meet your dog’s needs.

Level 1 teaches the basic skills you will need to help your dog survive the scary world. Many of these exercises are taken from the book Control Unleashed, but the curriculum does vary slightly based on the dogs that show up in class. No previous training experience is needed. We use barriers to help keep dogs under threshold, and generally speaking, dogs will not see each other until the last few weeks of class- if at all.

Level 2 builds on the skills learned in level 1, and includes more systematic exposure to the other dogs. By the end of the level 2 class, the dogs are usually working parallel to one another.

Agility Unleashed
This class is limited to six students, again with 2 instructors, for a 1 to 3 ratio. This class is meant for dogs who can look at other dogs without immediately going over threshold but who struggle with the increased motion or chaos often seen in agility (or obedience!) trials and classes. It’s also great for dogs who are easily stressed around other dogs and need to build up more confidence in a structured format.

Agility Unleashed is very well-suited for performance dogs, but it is not an agility class, and I am very upfront in saying that I have only a rudimentary understanding of the sport. This makes the class very interactive; I expect my students to speak up if I’m teaching them something that contradicts what their agility instructor has taught them. (Don’t worry- this doesn’t happen often!) I do have pet dogs take Agility Unleashed; sometimes Growl 2 graduates continue their work in this class.

Level 1 teaches many of the same basic skills introduced in Growl, but progresses through them quicker and includes additional exercises as well. We do some single-obstacle exercises in level 1, usually a jump, but we can modify all exercises for dogs who don’t know how to do a particular obstacle.

Level 2 builds on all the exercises learned in level 1 while increasing the number of dogs working at once, the amount of motion, and the difficulty of the tasks. Depending on the dogs present, we will do short sequences (usually 3 obstacles).


Both classes are a ton of fun for me to teach. I absolutely love seeing how much progress the dogs (and their people!) make. And, since one of the class rules is Have Fun, chances are good you’ll have a good time. Let me know if you have any questions, and I hope to see some of you there!

We Can't Save Them All

What I’m about to write is not going to be popular. It will probably make some people mad. I may even lose a few readers. But it’s something that needs to be said.

We can’t save them all.

A Facebook friend linked to a story about 800 war dogs in Britain who were euthanized. Her thoughts echoed many of the comments on the story: this was an awful thing. Which it is. The prevailing belief was that surely these dogs could be rehabilitated. Which they probably could have been. But who was going to do it? And at what cost?

In this blog, I have documented Maisy’s journey from reactive and anxious to functional and basically normal. I absolutely believe that the combination of training, management, and appropriate medical care can help dogs live more normal lives. However, it takes a significant investment.

Don’t get me wrong- it’s been worth it- but it’s taken a lot of time. I worked with Maisy diligently for several years, and the sum total has been hundreds of hours of work. This also came with a cost; trainers, veterinary behaviorists, supplements, medications, books, seminars- it’s all expensive. I’ve spent thousands of dollars in my quest to help my dog. And it has taken its toll emotionally, as well. It is not easy to have a “crazy” dog.

What’s more, Maisy wasn’t that crazy. She was reactive, yes. She was anxious, yes. But she was not aggressive, and she does not have a bite history. We’ve had some close calls, but thankfully she’s never made physical contact with another dog or a person. She also responded beautifully to training and medication, something that does not happen for every dog. Taken together, Maisy has been a relatively easy dog for one with issues.

And it still took years. And lots of money. And a fair amount of heartache along the way. I love Maisy, and if I’d known then what I know now... well, if I'm honest, I’d do it again. She is worth it. But I would also think twice before purposely adopting another dog with issues like hers, and I can’t imagine choosing to take on a dog with even more severe behavioral concerns.

Yes, some of those dogs in the article probably could have been saved. But by whom? How do you find 800 homes that have the skills, the time, the money, the patience, and the desire to rehabilitate them? Especially when there are thousands of physically and behaviorally healthy dogs dying in shelters every day?

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t work with dogs with issues. I believe that when we take on responsibility for a dog, we owe him our time and money and patience. But we don’t all have the skills, time, or money to “fix” them. For those who fit this description, there is no shame in finding a better situation for that dog. Unfortunately, while some of these dogs can be rehomed, some cannot. In my state, if a person rehomes a dog with a bite history and the dog bites again, the original owner can be sued, even if they disclosed this information to the new owner, and even if the new owner takes on full responsibility for the dog.

The decision to euthanize a dog is not easy. One of my friends had to put his beloved dog to sleep when it began to aggress towards the new baby in the home. This man spent a ton of money on excellent trainers and veterinary behaviorists- the same ones, in fact, that helped Maisy and I. He put in the time and effort. And yet the dog- who was wonderful in many ways- still posed too great of a risk. My friend ultimately did the most responsible and loving thing he could: he gave the dog one last wonderful day, and then let him go peacefully, surrounded by people who loved him. And it broke my friend’s heart that he couldn’t save his best friend.

As for the dogs in the article? I don’t know their story. I don’t know what was tried, and what wasn’t. I don’t know why the government chose to euthanize those dogs instead of place them in new homes. Although I truly hope they tried- after all, if humans choose to use dogs for work, there should be a long-term plan for them after they’ve completed their service- there simply aren’t enough details to form an opinion.

The truth is, rescues are often in a tough spot. They have limited resources. If they’re lucky, they have a trainer who volunteers to try and help the dogs in their care. Many dogs have minor but workable behavior problems that can be resolved prior to (or even after) adoption. But some problems pose a huge liability. Should one of those dogs bite a person in their new home, it can reflect poorly on the specific rescue, and damage the reputation of rescue dogs in general.

So while the story my friend linked to was indeed awful and made me sad, I have a hard time getting worked up about it. While it’s a terrible thing to kill dogs, I also recognize that some dogs are just too far gone. For whatever reason, their behavior is too unpredictable, and their futures too uncertain.

In the end, all I know is this: We can’t save them all. And that sucks.

Help! I think my dog is reactive! What should I do?

It was the fall of 2008. I was all settled in at my first post-college job, and I finally had the time needed to pursue dog sports. Excited, I signed up for an obedience class at a local training club. Maisy was just barely two years old, and while there had been warning signs that she wasn’t exactly normal, I didn’t know enough to recognize that. I’d heard of reactivity, but was thankful my dog wasn’t like that. So the first time she barked and lunged at another dog in class, my heart sank.

I was completely unprepared for what was to come. I knew so very little. I couldn’t read Maisy’s body language, I didn’t understand how stress impacted dogs, and I had absolutely no clue what I should do next. What I needed was someone to help me, but our instructor- as wonderful as she was- couldn’t. This is not unusual; there is a huge difference between training obedience skills and modifying undesirable behaviors, and most trainers are experienced in the former with little understanding of the latter.

I’ve learned a lot since then, and I’ve chronicled much of it on this blog. Unfortunately, this knowledge came a bit late, so today, I want to share what I wish I’d known back then. If you’ve just realized that you have a reactive dog and are wondering what you should do next, here are my suggestions.

Take a Break
One of the biggest mistakes people make with reactive dogs- myself included- is to keep putting their dog in situations they can’t handle. It’s easy to do this. At first, I simply didn’t understand what was triggering Maisy’s behavior. It’s hard to avoid things if you don’t know what those things are.

Later, I kept putting her in those situations in order to “socialize” her and “train through it.” This was a mistake. Every time I put Maisy into a situation she couldn’t handle, she learned that I couldn’t be depended on to keep her safe. Maisy is a resourceful little dog, so when it became clear I wasn’t doing anything about the situations that made her uncomfortable, she decided to. She barked and lunged. And every time she did, she got better at it. Reactivity became a habit, and anyone who’s tried to break their own bad habits knows how hard it is. This really slowed down our progress.

This is why my first (and possibly most important) suggestion is to simply take a break. Stop exposing your dog to things he can’t deal with. This might be training classes. It might be trials. It might even be going for walks. Don’t let your dog rehearse behavior you don’t like!

Consult an Expert (or Two)
Of course, it’s both impossible and undesirable to avoid the world forever. Most of us want to do things with our dogs and to take them places, so while taking a break is good in the short run, it’s usually not a long-term strategy.

While on your break, you should use the time to consult with an expert. If the behavior change is sudden, a vet check may be in order. Medical concerns can change the way a dog acts. Although Maisy’s issues aren’t solely the result of her health, they do get worse during allergy season or when her back hurts. Get your dog checked out.

Next, find a trainer. I’ve written before about why I think you need a trainer. Reactivity is a spectrum; there’s a huge range of behaviors your dog can display, and the reasons behind them can be just as varied. It is highly likely you will need some help parsing it all out. As I already noted, you don’t want just any trainer. While there are very talented folks teaching obedience, agility, etc., you need someone who’s had experience and success with behavior issues.

Read, Watch, Go
If you have a reactive dog, you need to learn and you need to learn fast. If you’ve hired a trainer, it is possible to skip this step… but I don’t recommend it. There are many ways to approach reactivity, and it’s helpful to understand multiple perspectives. Even if you have the best trainer out there, sometimes hearing things from a different point of view will help give you the clarity you need.

Start by learning about different training methods. I strongly favor positive, reward-based methods. It’s not that other methods don’t work- they can- but there is a higher risk of fallout. Check out this position statement by the AVSAB for more information.

Next, learn about dog body language and stress signals. It’s amazing how much we miss simply because we don’t know to look for it. There are tons of DVDs, books, and websites devoted to learning to understand what you’re dog is telling you.

Continue your education by learning about the different protocols designed for reactivity. From basic desensitization and counter-conditioning to more sophisticated programs like Control Unleashed and BAT, there are lots of ways to approach the problem. Find out more about them, and discuss them with your trainer. Find out what she prefers and why. Together, choose one that you both feel comfortable with and that seems like a good fit for your dog.

Finally, build up a support system. Blogs, email lists, and in-person friends are all places you can go to exchange ideas, commiserate about set-backs, and celebrate successes!

Keep Records
I know, I know. It’s really not that much fun, but records can be incredibly valuable. It wasn’t until I started logging incidents that I realized just how anxious my dog was. I was so accustomed to her behavior that I didn’t really recognize it as abnormal. Seeing it all in black and white helped me understand just how much help she needed.

This doesn’t need to be a massive undertaking. Your records can be as simple as a brief note on a calendar or as complex as an Excel spreadsheet. The format is less important than simply doing it. They will help you identify triggers, notice subtle behavior patterns, and track your progress.


These are the things I wish I had known almost four years ago. I’ve learned much since then… most of it the hard way! Although there is no shortcut through reactivity, the sooner you enlist help, the quicker it will be.

For those of you who have been there, done that, what do you wish you’d known? For those of you who are new to this, what other questions do you have? I’d love to hear from you!

Reactivity is a Spectrum

In my day job, I work with children with disabilities, and roughly half of them have autism. They range from non-verbal to incessant talkers. Some are completely dependent on others, while others are thriving in society. A few of them have intense behaviors, while others are well-adjusted kids. In other words, none of them are the same. There’s a reason they call it the autism spectrum.

The more I learn about dogs, the more I become convinced that reactivity is also a spectrum. While we tend to label any dog who demonstrates over-the-top behavior as “reactive,” there are an almost infinite number of variations on the theme. It’s not a neat, linear spectrum, either; there’s no orderly progression of behaviors going from one end to the other. Just like with autism, things combine in unexpected ways in reactive dogs.

Some reactive dogs are like my own. Much of Maisy’s over-the-top behavior was fueled by a clinical anxiety disorder. Although we’ll never know for sure, I tend to believe that there is probably a strong genetic component to her behavior.

Speaking of genes, we have created breeds of dogs that are very focused on their environment. For example, many herding dogs are sensitive to motion- they need to be in order to move stock! But when left unchanneled, this tendency can look a lot like reactivity.

Dogs who don’t receive adequate socialization as a puppy can grow up to be fearful or unsure about novel experiences. This fear can result in a fight-or-flight reaction, and “fight” behaviors are often what we call reactive.

On the other hand, puppies who were allowed to greet and play with everyone they met may be wonderfully socialized while simultaneously having no manners. If they don’t learn how to control their impulses, their frustration may turn into reactivity.

This list goes on and on... I’ve met dogs who were wound too tight, who had medical conditions that impacted their behavior, who had learned they could get attention by acting a certain way, who were trying to gather information about their environment, and I’m sure you can come up with even more.

What’s clear to me is that while it makes sense to group all of these dogs under the label of “reactive” to make it easier to talk about them, it’s nearly impossible to make generalizations or definitive statements. While we can certainly discuss training approaches, handling strategies, and the use of medications or supplements, there is no one-size-fits-all.

It’s the same in my day job. Just as none of the reactive dogs I work with are the same, neither are any of the kids with autism. But what I tell all of my clients, human and canine alike, is the same: they are the experts, not me. Since there is so much variation in behavior, the parent/owner will always understand their child/dog better than I do. 

This doesn’t mean that I’m not an educated professional.  I know a lot about autism and reactivity, but I don’t live with my clients. I have no way of ever knowing all the ways it plays out in their lives. Despite this, I'm quite good at what I do. In my day job, I am able to find the resources parents need to help their kids, and in the evenings, I can coach people in training exercises that are highly likely to help their dogs. But in both contexts, they get the final say. 

The way I see it, my job is not to be right, it’s to help my clients find what’s right for them. I have to be willing to listen to my clients, and then to respond flexibly. It has to be this way, because whether we're talking about autism or reactivity, it's a spectrum. And that means that every case will be just a little bit different.