The Little Bear Dog Blog

If, like me you have a day job in the corporate world, the title question will probably be familiar to you. It’s bandied about willy-nilly in relation to objective setting, programme evaluation and performance reviews.   But unlike some other management speak, this one is actually a big favourite of mine. Why? Because it’s so darn useful – especially when it comes to dog training.

Positive

I’m a massive fan of positive reinforcement, simply because when I first got Little Bear I was ignorant to the point that I listened to a trainer who told me to lead correct him (i.e. pull on his collar with the lead) when he mis-behaved. Punishment didn’t work for us, it made things 10 times worse, plus I’m a useless punisher (thank heavens) so when I found a more enlightened way to help my dog I grabbed it with both hands.

Learning how to positively reinforce your dogs’ behaviour is pretty easy, but the very first step is deciding what that behaviour is going to look like.  Now this might sound so simplistic as to be insulting, but looking back, I had no idea what good looked like because I was so pre-occupied with trying to avoid the bad stuff.

Am I being good now? 

Now when we walk I’m conscious to look out for the good. So if LB is trotting nicely by my side I tell him what a great walk he’s doing. If we see a jogger these days he rarely woofs, so I always praise him for being calm.  Just because he’s learned not to bark at them is no reason as far as I’m concerned to stop praising him for keeping up the great work.

By understanding what the ultimate goal looks like, it’s also so much easier to break it down into manageable chunks.  So for us, walking around the block without him barking at another dog is one of our ultimate ‘goods’.  But that doesn’t mean to say that until he can do that he won’t be rewarded – he’d never learn anything that way.

So, the first ‘good’ was not reacting 60ft away from another dog walking away from him. Another was giving me eye contact when I asked for it, a third was giving me eye contact when there was a dog 60ft away etc etc. By understanding what the ultimate good looks like, plus the increments that will get us there, I’m able to set us both up for success. The best bit of course is that I also get to focus on every opportunity to praise and reward every step he takes in the right direction.

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Don't Cook Your Dog

Despite the fact that I’m writing this huddled in a woolly cardigan, it is, technically the height of summer in the UK.  The weather doesn’t seem to have a clue what it’s doing at the moment so when walking the dogs there are two things you can be certain of: you’re going to get wet and at some point en route, you’ll have to tie your coat around your waist to save yourself from melting.

We complain about it, such is the national tradition, as if a stiff letter to an MP could have the matter sorted out in a jiffy, but we’re all resigned to the fact that it’s just weather and we just have to get on with it.

Dogs die in hot cars

You’d think we Brits would be an adaptable lot as a result, but just last month yet another police officer let his dogs, one a young puppy, bake to death in his locked, unventilated police van. The story hit just about every front page national newspaper in the country and yet just a few days later, my friend found a small Yorkshire Terrier, locked in a car in a supermarket car park with the window open just an inch (he survived by the way – just!) Which begs the question, why isn’t this message getting through?

Dogs aren’t able to sweat like us, because, hey, surprise surprise, they’re covered in fur. That leaves them their paws and mouths as their only means of venting excess heat. Pop them in a car, which is effectively a roasting dish and even with all of the windows open wide, temperatures can soar rapidly even during weather like this. Your dog’s temperature only needs to rise by 5-7 degrees above normal for them to get brain damage. What they’d suffer on the way is beyond thinking about.

So, please, if it’s hot and sunny or even wet but warm and muggy like today, never, ever, EVER leave your dog in the car – even for a minute. You never know if you’re going to get held up, plus, with dog thefts from cars on the rise do you really want to take the risk?

Don’t get mad get motivated!

Dog’s Today is running an excellent campaign called ‘Don’t cook your dog’.  Do check out the blog where you can download posters, order car stickers and get Facebook avatars. I’ll be ordering car stickers for our cars and for friends and family and I’ll be printing and distributing posters in our local shops. Please help spread the word and who knows, maybe it could just save a life. x

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Back to bed Bear

Little Bear is four today. Hard to believe really, the time has flown by so fast. Yet it’s hard to imagine life before him now. I’m sure it was easier, but I doubt it was as joyful.

That’s the only word I could think of this morning when, impatient to see his reaction, I delayed making my essential first cuppa of the day to give him his birthday present.

The Hide the Squirrel game has been sitting on my office shelf for nearly 2 months. Personally I think I’ve shown great restraint in not giving it to him before now.

Well he certainly didn’t disappoint. He went nuts when he saw the box, jumping up onto the armchair to get a better look.  His little tail went into over-drive when he saw the toy and he wasted no time at all in the testing it out stakes.  He flung it in the air, he squeaked it, he pulled out each squirrel, he batted them with his paw and all the while he was in full-blown super wag!

Big hit: Little Bear's Hide the Squirrel present

Twelve rounds of ‘find the squirrel’ later and he was showing no signs of being bored with the game which was essentially him pulling the little critters out of their tree stump and then waiting patiently for me to stuff them back into it.

Perhaps sensing the need for fresh blood in the tree stump stuffing stakes (try saying that one quickly) he then picked the whole thing up and pelted upstairs to show Other Half.

As I watched him play, so obviously delighted by his new toy, I was struck by how purely joyful he looked.  Totally absorbed in the fun of living. In that, dogs have an awful lot to teach us.

Happy birthday Little Bear. x

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Nap time: Little Bear and Annie

There’s an old saying that the key to happiness is not getting what you want, but wanting what you get. I’d be really happy getting a new Volvo V50 and size 8 hips please, but I’m not sure that’s what the quotes’ originator really meant.

In true zen-like fashion it’s about appreciating what we already have and let’s be honest, how many of us take time to do that? We focus on what we don’t have, what we still need (or want) and we buy into the idea that our lives would be perfect if only….[complete as necessary]

The good news is that we have something to blame other than ourselves. We can blame advertising for at least part of it for creating a culture driven by a collective sense of lack. After all, how would anyone sell anything if we all believed we already had everything we needed to be happy?

But we’re bright people, and advertising can’t take the rap for it all. I’m as guilty as the next person by the way.  Put me in a pet shop and I’ll be scouring the training section looking for equipment that might help me in my quest for ‘perfect, non-reactive dogs.’  I rarely buy anything, but the idea that I can buy a ‘fix’ for the problem is deeply ingrained. So despite knowing that the solution rests in time, love, persistence and consistency, I still look – just in case.

Little Bear and Annie, despite my best efforts, may never learn to be entirely happy around unfamiliar dogs. I may well spend the next decade taking a few steps forward and then a few more back, but I hope they understand that whatever happens, I’ll love them and appreciate them for who they are right now. After all, that’s the secret to happiness.

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Little Bear, Paddy (top) and Bella

There was a time when going out with friends on a Friday night meant hours in the bathroom, a new outfit and a sure-fire guarantee that I’d miss Saturday morning altogether. But things (thankfully) move on and last nights outing was a walk in the woods with Other Half, my friend Judith and her adorable two dogs Bella and Paddy.

It was a big night for us as Annie joined us and as is human nature, we so wanted them to all get along. Little Bear is hopelessly in love with beautiful black Lab Bella and he and Pads are great playmates, but Annie’s worried about new dogs and air snaps if they get too close. It’s not her fault, she’s just reacting in the only way she knows how. Our job is to teach her a better way.

Lunging

True to form Annie lunged and put on her anxious head as soon as she clapped eyes on the new dogs. Bella’s well-mannered approach earned her a lunge and an air snap but she sauntered away completely unfazed. Pads was completely focussed on his tennis ball so ignored Annie anyway.

As we walked, Annie started to calm down. It was hammering with rain so Little Bear was seriously unimpressed to be out at all, but as Bella was there he was putting on his tough guy face and pretending he didn’t care.  Wonder what she’d think if she knew he stood by the wardrobe waiting for the hairdryer to come out as soon as we got home?!

Bella continued her ingratiation campaign, choosing to walk past Annie at every opportunity and thus earning them both an enthusiastic chorus of ‘Good girls!!!’ for non-reaction or politeness. OH got them sitting within a few feet of each other to have treats (if ever there’s a bonding experience between Labs, this has to be it!) and by the end of the walk they were snacking on grass almost head to head, again to our enthusiastic praise.

It will take a few more walks to persuade Annie that these dogs can be trusted and I’ll remain eagle-eyed until her body-language tells me that she’s comfortable, but thanks to the calm, gentle persistence of the lovely Bells I think they may yet become firm friends. Sleepovers and friendship bracelets await!

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Little Bear with his head on a copy of Dogs, by Coppinger

Amazon and I have a love hate relationship. I love that I can buy dog behaviour  books with a few clicks of a mouse, but I hate that:

a) I now need another bookcase and

b) I daren’t add up what I’ve spent over the past couple of years (LOL)

I’m not complaining though, I’m enthralled by the whole topic and feel like I’m still only scratching the surface in terms of the learning that’s out there.

Slim pickings on the high street 

Amazon’s virtual shelves are packed with some excellent titles, but by contrast, wander into Waterstones or WHSmith and the dog section is more than a little light on content. Chatting to my behaviourist friend today about her excellent blog on the dangers of dominance theory, we were lamenting the fact that the better dog books can only be found online – and then, only if you know what you’re looking for! Couple that with some TV trainers peddling dog abuse in the name of training and no wonder people (myself once included) are confused.

So, I thought I’d share my top ten favourite dog books and ask what you think?  I need no excuse to hit Amazon, so any recommendations to add to the shelves gratefully received.

1. Dogs – Raymond & Lorna Coppinger
2. The culture clash – Jean Donaldson
3. For the love of dog – Patricia McConnell
4. Inside of a dog – Alexandra Horowitz
5. The other end of the leash – Patricia McConnell
6. Bonding with your dog – Victoria Schade
7. Empowerment training – James O’Heare
8. Fight – Jean Donaldson
9. How dogs learn – Burch & Bailey
10. Canine neuropsychology – James O’Heare

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Annie snoozing after her walk

I’ve said it before, but having a reactive dog can be pretty exhausting. What should be a leisurely stroll around the block before bed is a choreographed expedition with enough equipment to get you to the pole and back. If you think breaking a finger nail causes women to freak, try hiding my clicker or treat bag; it’s not pretty.

So locked and loaded, Annie and I set off for our evening walk. There are a couple of known hot spots on our route. There are the Jack Russells at the end of the street who bark like crazy from the window as we pass and then ‘cat corner’ where, despite only ever seeing a cat there once in a blue moon, never fails to send her into a fit of the bouncys.

Safely past, we’d just stopped at the kerb when the neighbourhood cutie, a strawberry roan cocker spaniel appeared with his owners from around the corner.  There are some days when I’m ready for anything, but having run around an agility field for an hour in the sun and then working late on an inbox that would just not empty, today just wasn’t one of them.  But that was my problem, not Annie’s, so we turned on our heel and quietly walked the other way until we could duck into a wider bit of the road and allow them to pass.

As I distracted her with ‘watch me’ and treats, the couple smiled and waved. This is always an awkward moment. Do you focus on your dog and risk looking rude? Or attempt a conversation only to have it drowned out by the barking you were working so hard to avoid?

My mouth seemed to decide for me and said ‘She’s a reactive rescue in rehab.’  Wow, get me, dog training and alliteration all in one, you’d never guess that I don’t get out much?! I winced at my unintended cheesiness and was mid-way through a mental note to just focus on the dog next time when I heard them say ‘We often see you or your partner pass with her and she’s so much better now. You’re doing such a great job with her.’  I nearly exploded with pride, especially because Annie was still sitting and wagging in full sight of the strawberry cutie.

I don’t know their names, or even their dogs’ name, but I wonder if they realise that they made my day. Annie and I celebrated with some dog biscuits (I let her eat my share) and a big cuddle. She beamed and wagged and just for good measure, ignored a Terrier on the way home too.

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When I adopted each of my animals, I made them a promise. It was quite simple and there were no bells, whistles or points of ceremony. The promise was that they were home. Forever.

Home is an incredibly powerful concept and not just for those of us with a cortex capable of deep and meaningful navel gazing either. To be home is to belong; to relax in the knowledge that you’re safe and loved. It’s the keystone that allows us to spread our wings and live.

For Camden Cat, I was her fifth home, having been passed around from pillar to post as couples split up, moved house, married and had kids and other pets. Five years later I think she’s secure in the knowledge that we’re together for life. Little Bear too has the air of one who’s grounded in enough love to know that even the worst of behaviour will never see him out on the street. Annie still has a little more believing to do, but she wears her joy so openly that I’m sure she’s not too far off the mark now.

Security is vitally important for our animals. They depend on us for their very survival and by taking them on we have to remember that commitment.

Inconvenience

Chatting to a friend the other day, he mentioned that his sister-in-law, although ‘devoted’ to the dog, was now, after many years, going to re-home him.  I asked what he’d done and was horrified by the answer. This darling dog had done nothing wrong, he’d merely become an inconvenience.  They found him expensive to keep and foreign holidays were becoming ‘awkward’.

So, just like that, these ‘devoted’ dog lovers were planning to abandon their friend to an uncertain fate.  I’ve heard many a terrible tale about people being forced into giving up their dogs through marriage break-up, illness, bankruptcy etc, but these are the ones I find the most sickening.

I think my next post will be about all the awful bits about sharing your life with a dog. Maybe us dog lovers paint too rosy a picture of the canine-human bond, lulling the floating voter, Siren-like onto the rocks of a long-term commitment they’re not prepared for. Or maybe we’re a fickle species with scant regard for the emotional capacity of others and a predisposition for breathtaking selfishness.

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Imagine you’re a dog.  You’re an emotional, sentient creature who is utterly dependent on the two-legged beings you live with. They control everything you need to survive – food, water, shelter, comfort, warmth. They have lots of complicated rules about what you can and can’t do and in the beginning, you make a lot of mistakes. But by the time you’re about two years old, your hard work and careful observation has paid off and you have most of the rules pretty much figured out.

Then your world is turned upside down. For reasons you’ll never understand, you’re removed from your home and taken to a bare kennel in a rescue centre. Your people, the ones you’ve relied on your entire life, leave you there and you never see them again.

A forever home?

After what seems like an eternity, a new family turn up and take you home. You have no idea who they are or what their rules might be. You’re scared and anxious. Your last people went away and never came back, so you decide to follow the new ones around the house just to make sure you never lose them again. When they leave you at home, you start to panic and get so upset that you’re being abandoned again that you’ll do whatever it takes to be near your new people again. Because after all, where else will you be safer?

Because you’ve lived in a kennel for months, where nobody came to open a door for you when you asked for a toilet break, you learned new rules. Nobody shouted at you for peeing in your kennel so the rules must have changed right? It’s safe to pee indoors now. But in this new home, peeing indoors gets you shouted at and maybe worse. Now you’re really confused and even more scared.

Just when you think things can’t get any worse, your new people, the ones who bought you a nice comfortable bed, new toys and a shiny new collar and lead, pack you back into the car and take you back the kennels. You never see them again.

So much for second chances

This is what just happened to a delightful little dog an acquaintance of mine recently adopted. Just two weeks after he found his ‘forever home’ he was handed back. The bit that makes me even madder, is that the family in question asked for advice on his house training and separation anxiety from a local dog trainer, they were told that the problems were ‘untreatable’. What utter, unadulterated poppycock.

For the first few weeks, Annie howled the place down when one of us left the room, let alone the house. I was even forced to do one conference call from my shed at the bottom of the garden one day because of the noise! My friends 3 year rescue dog would run upstairs to toilet when she first got him. Who knows what he was thinking, but we think he worked on the principle that doing it out of sight of humans was just safer. I hate to even think of how he learned that lesson, but it can’t have been pleasant.  Two weeks of going back to basics and treating him as you would a new puppy was all it took to remind him of his housetraining and reassure him that nobody was going to shout at him or hurt him for getting it wrong. He’s never had an accident since.

I hope with all my heart that this other little dog has gone on to be re-adopted by someone who understands dogs a bit better and realises just how long it can take for them to overcome the upset of rehoming. Some dogs settle very quickly, but for others, learning to trust new people and figure out new rules can take a long time.

Surely, for all the love and joy they bring us, we can at least try to see the world from their point of view now and again and give them the time, love and understanding they need to readjust.

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Little Bear

There’s a scene from the first Bourne Identity film where Jason Bourne, sitting in a restaurant, tells his companion that within seconds of sitting down, he knew exactly how many exits there were, how long it would take to get to each one and who, amongst their fellow diners may be a threat.

Now I claim no such super powers of observation, (I couldn’t tell you what colour my own socks are at this present moment) but having a reactive dog does teach you to become something of a strategist. I know which parks, fields and tracks to avoid and when. For example the dog park nearest us isn’t safe past May as it’s so lush with greenery that you can easily get dive bombed by an off lead dog without warning plus the exits are too far apart.

I’ve also learned to spot the sometimes less than 100% considerate owners a mile off. The ones who look completely disinterested in their dog and let it practically walk itself while they chat on the phone or gossip with friends. If we spot one of these in the distance, we’re off like a shot in the other direction. Handling your own reactive dog on a lead is one thing, but trying to keep a strange off lead dog away from him when it’s owner is half a football pitch away is quite another.

Tools of the trade

I’m sure Jason Bourne could fashion a deadly weapon or a useful lock pick out of a toothpick and an after dinner mint, but as a mere mortal, I have to take a more mundane approach.  These days I never, ever leave the house to walk the dogs without copious amounts of treats, a squeaky tennis ball or two and my clicker. After Little Bear was attacked last year, I also carry a pet corrector just for emergencies and since Annie disappeared, a spare lead, just in case I ever find a lost dog (oh yes, what a boy scout!)

The organisation bit, not being my natural forte, has taken a while, but I see every walk as an opportunity for Little Bear to succeed. If I forget the tools that help him then I’m setting him up to fail and that’s not fair on either of us. So I shove everything into a  little back pack and leave it by the door ready for the next walk.

If dog walking in our house sounds like a military operation, then I have to admit, sometimes it feels that way too. But then you have days like today when all the preparation and practice pay off. On this morning’s school run, LB was an angel. We passed tonnes of kids, people on bikes, push-chairs and kids on scooters – one in particular was being ridden by an ecstatic five-year old girl who was singing her heart out at the very top of her voice ‘Hip, hip, hip HOORAY! The sun has come out to play!! I’m so happy Daddy! The sun has come out!’ She squealed as only little girls can. As we were standing just a few feet away, I anticipated a bark fest, but Little Bear was sitting at my feet, mouth smiling, tail wagging. Hip hip hooray indeed!

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