Oh yes they did! Quebec government has said no more shocking and pinching dogs.

Taken from the MAPAQ Guide d'application du règlement sur la sécurité et le bien-être des chats et des chiens, Article 26, page 21

There's been lots of chatter about the news that the Quebec government agency that oversees regulation for the safety and well-being of dogs and cats (MAPAQ) has deemed electronic collars and prong collars "unacceptable" equipment as of 2013.  Public reaction was initially mixed:  There was some celebrating on one side and some grumbling on the other.  Both sides agreed, however, that this was a pretty benign move on the government's part and that basically nothing would change out there in the real world.

And then this week it was made known that getting caught using such equipment would result in a fine of no less than $600, and that several "first warnings" had already been issued to members of the public.  Whoa.  The low-volume chatter quickly erupted into a full-out ballroom blitz.

I posted this announcement on my tiny Facebook page and within a day it had spread like wildfire.  I received angry comments and messages from people who are clearly very upset by this news.  Some insist the government is making a big mistake; that this equipment is crucial to dog training and behaviour management (it's not).  Some complained that the regulation, as it is written, is unclear and difficult to decipher (it is).  Some people refused to believe it at all and accused me of making the whole story up to further my own personal agenda (um, okaaaay...).

Some went so far as to predict that hundreds and even thousands of dogs in Quebec would die because their dangerous behaviour can only be corrected by this magical equipment.  Unfortunately, many people still believe this fallacy.  The truth is that the use of such equipment to modify aggressive behaviour will most likely exacerbate the problem in the long-run by merely suppressing behaviour and creating a dog that is a ticking time-bomb.  But that's a whole other post.

My knee-jerk reaction to these people's knee-jerk reactions was initially to defend the government's decision by trying to help people understand that it was made for the right reasons.  This is a good thing, people!  It's okay, don't worry.... dogs won't die because of this!  You CAN walk your dog without one of these collars;  you CAN train a dog... any dog, any breed, any size, any behaviour... without this equipment.  And you can do so with better results.  No really, you can!  

You would think people would be jumping all over this revelation, excited to learn of the alternatives. "We can??  Omg, show me!!"  Instead, many are holding steadfastly to what they "know" works.  They don't want nor accept change, and they absolutely resent it being forced on them by the government.

It reminds me of the uproar that ensued when the government started to get involved with regulating where and when people could smoke tobacco.  No more smoking in schools (well, yeah... okay).  No more smoking in hospitals (well, yeah... okay, I guess).  No more smoking on planes (wait, what?).  No more smoking in restaurants (now hold on a second...!).  No more smoking in bars (you can't do that!).  You know what?  No more smoking in public buildings anywhere!  (THE ECONOMY WILL CRASH! BUSINESSES WILL CLOSE!  PEOPLE WILL LEAVE THE PROVINCE!!)

Over time, these new regulations become the norm.  No-one complains about not smoking on a plane.  No-one lights up defiantly in a restaurant after dessert.  The economy did not crash, businesses did just fine.  The world did not end, and we are all much better off for it.

This is what's happening here, I believe.  This is the doom and gloom phase, the fear stage, the being-dragged-away-kicking-and-screaming chapter.  One day, using gentler, smarter, more efficient methods and equipment to train an animal will be the norm, and we'll look back on the days of electronic collars and prong collars (and one day even choke collars) as the Dark Ages, the era before we were enlightened.  And many will be embarrassed about how we carried on with our silly equipment.

Maya Angelou said "Do the best you can until you know better.  Then when you know better, do better."

We know better now.  It's time to do better.  And I am giving a massive high-5 to the Quebec government for taking the first important steps.

July 29, 2014:  In June 2014, the MAPAQ document referred to above was modified. The word "inacceptables" (unacceptable) was changed to "non-recommandés" (not recommended).  The fines remain in place for the misuse of this equipment as outlined in the MAPAQ guide.  (NT)

The Retractable Leash: Use it, or lose it?

We've all seen it.  The little dog on a retractable leash, happily strolling down the street with the freedom to go (almost) wherever he pleases.  His human calmly following behind him, poop bag at the ready.  It's a pleasant, blissful image.

And then there's that other little dog on the retractable leash.  The one at the vet's office who's coming waaaay too close to the other animals in the waiting room while their human is busy at the reception desk, oblivious to the dog's movements.  Or the anxious one on the street who barks and spins around and around his flustered human's legs.  

Or how about that other dog, the really big one.  The 90-pound gladiator barreling at full speed towards the terrified woman and her Bichon in the park.  At one end of the leash is a plastic handle.  At the other, a dog collar with a quick-release clip.  There's a high-pitch whir as the leash unspools, and the dog is rapidly nearing the limit of the 20-foot length.  One of several things could happen when that dog reaches the end of the leash with that kind of force, and none of them are good.

For years I rejected the concept of the retractable leash.  I'm very aware of the ghastly dangers to the handler (amputated digits, anyone?) and to the dog (amputated limbs, neck injury).  The risk is real enough that some packaging actually depicts an illustrated severed finger.  Just so there's no confusion, I guess.

And then there's the whole business of dogs getting into spaces they really shouldn't have access to.  Like the middle of the street while their human walks safely on the sidewalk.  Or all the way up people's front lawns.  Or right up into the face of another strolling dog who would really prefer to be left alone.  I actually panic if I meet a dog on a retractable leash and the line starts getting wrapped around my legs.  

But recently, and much to my surprise, I have experienced the brilliance of the retractable leash.  Yeah, I said brilliance.  I have discovered that when used correctly and under very specific conditions, it can greatly improve the quality of life for many dogs and their people. 

I've been taking my dog-reactive dog Chili to wide open fields or quiet wooded paths where she's (relatively) free to explore, thanks to the retractable leash.  Because of her reaction towards other dogs, I prefer not to allow her to be off-leash unless we're in our own fenced-in yard.  It's just safer for everyone that way, and it's the responsible thing to do.  I find the retractable leash to be a good compromise between "regular 6-foot leash" and "off-leash", and by allowing me to keep it short if I want to, it offers me the control that I can't have with just a long line that I can't reel in neatly.

Here are the conditions under which I think the use of a retractable leash is good:

1. The leash is attached to a sturdy back-clip harness, and never to a regular collar around the dog's neck, never to a head halter (Gentle Leader, Halti, etc.), never to a front-clip harness, and for crying out loud, never to a choke chain or a prong collar.

2.  The leash is made of nylon ribbon.  The ones made with a metal cable scare the bejeezus out of me.  (Think horrifying amputation stories...)

3.  You've practiced using it in a safe environment.  It takes some coordination to operate those things.  You need to be able to lock the reel quickly with one finger or your thumb, and it's just as important to be able to unlock it quickly.  You need to be able to call your dog back to you (practice a good recall, whether you plan to use a retractable leash or not!).  You need to be able to shorten the leash quickly without dragging your dog in the process, and without putting your hands on the leash itself.

4.  You're in an environment where the dog can safely explore.  That means an area where it's unlikely you'll run into any trouble by allowing your dog to wander 15 feet away from you, with a leash linking you together (think of possible obstacles, like trees, poles, or people...).  And don't kid yourself:  Those areas are rare!  Don't use a retractable leash to walk on the street, or in an urban environment, or to shop at a pet supply store, or to visit the vet, or to meander at a fair.

5.  You are aware of your surroundings and of your dog's movements.  Don't use a retractable leash when you can't see what's happening around you, like at nighttime.   Pay attention to your dog and where's he's going.  You should be with your dog when you walk together, not just attached to him while you check your phone.  This is true for any dog-walking scenario, but is especially important when using a retractable leash.

If you do come across people or dogs, shorten the leash and lock it at a reasonable length, no longer than 6 feet.  In an ideal scenario, you will also have trained your dog proper leash manners and basic cues.  I use "slow" to get Chili to slow her pace, and "stop" to get her to stop moving forward completely.  The last thing I want is for my dog to run and pick up speed over a 15-foot distance only to very suddenly arrive at the end of the leash.  

Retractable leashes are not the root of all evil, but nor are they the answer to all of your leash needs.  If you're going to use one, don't be a jerk.  Be mindful, be safe, be smart, splurge on a high-quality one, and respect other people and other dogs' space. 

Behaviour modification... for the trainer!

In less than 48 hours, I will be facing one of my biggest fears:  Chicken camp. 

Yes, "chicken camp".  Sounds funny, right?  But most trainers know exactly what I'm talking about.  Trainers who work with positive reinforcement are familiar with the practice of honing their clicker training skills using chickens as subjects.  At chicken camp, teams of trainers get together to train chickens!  Simple enough concept, and probably doesn't seem the least bit frightening to you.

Unless you're like me, and you have a bird phobia.

It may come as a big surprise to some of you to learn that many animal trainers I know actually have a fear of at least one kind of animal.  Size or species doesn't matter.  A fear is a fear. It may be founded by a negative past experience or it may be a phobia, which is an irrational fear that can't be explained.

That's what's going on with me:  I have a phobia.  I can easily be around birds that are immobile or just walking around on the ground, but the sound and sight of fluttering wings sends my mind and body into panic mode.  My heart races, my vision narrows, I may hyperventilate, and I immediately focus on getting as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

This type of fear can't be rationalized.  It doesn't matter if you tell me, "It's okay.  It's just a chicken.  It can't hurt you."  I am fully aware of this, on a rational level.  But there is nothing rational about an anxiety attack.  The wiring is a bit messed up; something misfires in my brain.  I see or hear flapping wings, and uh-oh... hear comes the adrenaline.  My mind believes I am in immediate danger and prepares my body for the "fight or flight" response. 

I have been preparing myself for this weekend's chicken camp by using meditation to envision myself safe and happy in the presence of a (basically) flightless bird.  I have been watching and admiring the many birds that visit my neighbour's bird feeder, familiarizing myself with their movements.

At camp, I will be in the company of fellow trainers who are also good friends and they are all aware of my phobia.  I will work at my own pace, will set myself up for success by only doing what I know I can comfortably handle, and by building on these successes, I will overcome my fear for good.

I will be engaging in activity that I already enjoy and am skilled at.  This will help to keep me focused more on the task, and less on the feathers.  (I'm not afraid of being pecked... it's the wing movement that sets off the fear).

Working on overcoming my phobia will hopefully help me be a better trainer when it comes to helping dogs deal with their own fears. 

Although "flooding" is a bona fide therapy (flooding involves saturating a subject with a situation that instills fear in them, in an attempt to force the subject to face their fears until it subsides), I am not a fan of its use.  I prefer systematic desensitization: gradually dealing with a fear in small increments while always remaining below threshold and therefore never actually triggering a strong fear response.  Building on small successes, and always letting the subject determine the pace.

I will not be thrown into a barn full of chickens running rampant, with the door firmly locked behind me.  I will be in a controlled environment, I will get to decide how close I come to the chickens, and I will have the support of friends who are well-versed in the psychology of desensitization. 

Also, I will treat myself to whatever the hell I want at the end of the day!

Remember this, the next time your dog cowers because of thunder.  Or he barks and backs away from strangers.  Or he salivates as you walk him to your car and refuses to jump in.  Or he shakes at the sight of the nail clipper.  All fears are valid, simply because they exist.  If you want to help your dog work through a fear, avoid the use of flooding techniques, and instead find a qualified trainer or behaviour consultant who is knowledgeable and skilled at counter-conditioning and systematic densensitization. 

How saying goodbye to a friend changed me

My best friend Woody passed away on August 18th.  Woody was the inspiration for this blog.  Well, he was the inspiration behind just about everything I did, professionally and personally.  Above is a wonderful video tribute put together by a close friend.  I watch it every day, and letting go of this lovely spirit of a dog becomes a bit easier each time, as I am reminded of how much fun he created during his short lifetime.

So now it's down to just Chili in our house.  Chili, the Dog of Many Issues that we adopted from the shelter a little over a year ago.  Chili, who has stolen our hearts, and who these days is constantly showered with love and attention.

Although still very recent, Woody's passing has already changed a lot about how I feel about training.  For starters, I have greatly reduced the number of behaviours I used to think were important to train, condition, modify, address, worry about, be embarrassed about, focus-an-awful-lot-of-time-and-energy-on.

I've written here in the past about the work I've done with Chili to reduce her stress during walks in the neighbourhood.  How we've worked diligently at reducing her reactivity during car rides.  How I've religiously toiled at reducing her barking as a result of sound reactivity.  Pulling on leash; freaking out at the sight of another dog; thunder phobia; etc. etc.

Poor Chili.  She's always in school!  Imagine that?  Sure, I make training as fun as possible for her, but it's still.... training.

As of this week, I've changed my approach entirely.  I'm focusing more on management.  Residential streets are not Chili's cup of tea, so from now on, walks are for exploring the nearest forest or field (I have that luxury around here).  When I do walk her in the neighbourhood, I do so after 10:30pm, when the chances of encountering another dog are very, very slim.  When we return home, she's that "good" kind of tired. 

Riding in the car no longer involves constant counter-conditioning exercises.  This week, riding in the car meant a stuffed Kong in the back seat.  Chili lies down and gets right to work without bothering to look outside.  She's calm, I'm calm, we arrive at our destination and her pupils are not as big as saucers, and she's not excessively panting or shedding.

I'm no longer obsessed with controlling her barking, either.  Chili barks.  That's her thing.  She's a barky dog.  The neighbours three houses down recently adopted a very, very barky little dog.  (He sets Chili off all the time.)  The neighbours two houses down have two very young children who scream at the top of their lungs while playing outside.  I mean scream, as in horror-movie screaming.  My other neighbour on the other side has a son who blares bad music from his car every other day.  It makes my walls vibrate.  So why on earth would I worry about curbing Chili's barking so that I don't disturb the neighbours?? 

Nah... From now on, I'm all about ensuring Chili has the time of her life, every single day.  A dog's life is just so, so short.  Whatever we decide to teach them, we'd better be very certain that it's entirely in their best interest, and that it will without a doubt improve their lives.  As long as more training does not equal more restraints, then I'm all for it.  But I honestly think that for a dog like Chili, more freedom is exactly the way to go.

If I can help Chili become half as happy as Woody was, then she will be a very happy dog indeed.

So long, Woody.  Sir Bibbles Von Bibbly-Boo.  Snuggle-Pony.  Wiggly-Pup.  There will never be another one like you.  You taught me well, and I miss you so much it hurts.  Until we meet again....

Why punishing fear doesn't work

Many of you are already aware of our newest housemate, Jazzy.  We sprung her from the local shelter and are working on some of her minor issues while we look for a new home for her.


The first problem we noticed with Jazzy was her inability to walk nicely on leash.  She pulled like a tank!  She is 63 lbs of stocky stength.  When she pulls, you follow.  I began working on that immediately, and discovered she is a fast learner.  She can walk nicely, under the right circumstances. But man oh man, if she so much as spots a dog, she erupts into all kinds of barking, lunging, pulling, and spinning.


I know enough about Jazzy's behaviour now to be able to ascertain that the root of her reactivity is anxiety.   So my plan is to make Jazzy less anxious about certain events, like the presence of another dog.  This is a long-term plan; a project that involves lots of patience, lots of planning ahead, and lots of time.


I was asked recently why I didn't just "make" Jazzy stop.  Stop barking, stop lunging, stop acting up.  Just stop it.  Sit.  Be quiet.  Enough already.  Tssssst.  Tsssssst. 


Well, that is an option.  I could make it extremely unpleasant for her to behave this way.  There are a variety of methods I could use, and an even larger variety of equipment that can make the job easier.  Choke, prong, shock, spray, back-sided kick.  Yep.  I can get her to knock it off alright.


But I wouldn't be solving the problem.  In fact, I'd probably make it worse in the long run (which is what I suspect may have happened to her in the first place).  Jazzy's reaction is an emotional one.  You don't "correct" emotion with a threat.  Behaviour, sure (although it's really not my style).  But not the reason for the behaviour.  The emotion is always there, which means the potential for the behaviour remains as well.


Picture yourself horrified of snakes.  You HATE them.  The sight of one makes you scream and jump up and down.  As your friend, this behaviour of yours annoys and embarrasses me, so I stick a taser gun to your neck every time you act up this way.  You scream, I zap.  You try to move, I zap. This might force you to act quiet when you see a snake, but you're still deathly afraid.  I've taught you absolutely nothing. 


Well, that's not true.  I've taught you that you can't trust your best friend, the one person in the world that you should be able to count on...  I'm now unpredictable and dangerous;  I've taught you to hate snakes even more, because now every time you see one, you get zapped!  I've taught you to completely loathe going for walks with me, because the possibility of getting zapped always looms over you (so you also try to get as far away from me as possible while we walk).


This scenario is actually much more dangerous than before.  What do you think you'd do if I allowed the snake to come too close to you?  I am, after all, holding you on a leash and in complete control of your movements.  You're standing there quietly, not saying a word and not moving, so the snake has no idea you'd like for it to leave you alone.  On one side, you've got your biggest fear approaching you quickly.  On the other, you've got me holding a taser gun to your neck, and you know I'll use it.  It's a lose-lose situation for you, so you'll probably opt for just about ANYTHING that will get you out of the situation, including perhaps attacking the snake when it's within reach, or turning your attack on me to get me to let you go.  There is no room for rational thinking when you're panicked.


Really, the only way to move forward with this problem is to change the emotion.  Change the emotion, and the behaviour will follow.  If every time you spotted a snake from a distance, you received some kind of reward (here's 20 bucks!) AND you could count on your best friend to get you out of the situation pronto, a couple of things would happen:  You'd begin to tolerate or even look forward to seeing a snake, and your trust in me would grow, solidifying our bond.


This is what I'm doing for Jazzy.  I want Jazzy's perception of the situation to change.  I want her to know that her behaviour is unnecessary (it's possible she's barking and lunging just to tell the other dog "Get away! Get away! Get away!".... maybe because she's afraid of the dog itself, or maybe because she has learned that something unpleasant is about to happen, like a leash snap, which only happens when a dog is in view, so she's doing her best to make the dog go away).


I want her to spot a dog, think "Yay, that means a treat's coming!", and to know that I will make sure she remains at a safe distance.  Later, I'll start delivering the treat when we're just a smidge closer to the other dog.  Then closer.... closer..... closer.....  but always far enough away that Jazzy doesn't feel the need to react.  She tells me how close we can get.  I don't get to decide that.


If you really want to understand how this process works, think of a fear you have.  Everyone has at least one. Think of something that you avoid at all costs.  Now decide that you're going to overcome this fear.  You'll quickly discover two very important things:  First, you'll need a partner; someone you can trust implicitly to help you reach your goal.  Someone patient and non-judgmental who's got your back.  And you'll discover that it takes time.  As much time as you need.  You.  Not your partner.  Not anyone else.  You.

Bribes vs rewards

Every single time I walk with Woody, I bring along a treat pouch with a mishmash of various goodies.  Maybe some kibble, maybe some dried liver, maybe some cheese, maybe some apple chunks, or maybe some of Woody's favourite Zuke's.

Recently, someone remarked, "What? You STILL need to carry treats for your dog??"

Well, no.  Of course I don't need to.  But why on earth wouldn't I?  During our walks, I can come across plenty of perfect opportunities to toss him a reward to let him know he's done something I liked. 

Like the day we came face-to-face with someone walking a dog who clearly didn't want Woody to approach him.  What did Woody do when he saw the dog?  Well, in the past, he would have taken off like a bullet towards the dog, with me skidding behind him on my heels like a cartoon character.  But this day, Woody paused and turned towards me.  Yesssssssssss!  Good boy!  Here's a treat.  Here's another!  Here are three more on the ground... Find it!  Find it!

By the time Woody looked up again, the other dog had passed, and we went on our merry way.  In those few seconds of activity, I reinforced a behaviour in my dog that originally took me a very long time to instill.  It cost me precisely 5 treats.  Yay for Woody!  In return, I have a dog who is much more likely to repeat this behaviour the next time we come across a similar situation.  Yay for me!

"But isn't he only doing it because you have treats?"... Well, no.  He did it because there was the possibility of treats.  I did not promise a treat beforehand by waving it in front of Woody and saying, "Here Woody!  Look what I have!   This way.. this way!  Woooooo-dy!  Look at me! Look at me!  Want some cheese?  Woody? Woody?  WOODY?!!  Want some liver?  Here Woody!  Over here!  Cookie?  Cooooooookieeeeeeee??"... in a desperate attempt to win his attention.

Instead, because I had tossed him a treat in the past whenever another dog was in the vicinity, Woody quickly calculated the odds of getting a treat on this particular occasion.  He saw the dog, then took a gamble and glanced at me.  "Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!!!"  Jackpot!  Glancing at me is exactly what I want him to do.  To let him know, I reward him.  Woody has now figured out that offering this behaviour works out very well for him indeed.  By rewarding him, I've just made this behaviour stronger and more likely to happen again.  Everyone wins.

With a bribe, the promise of payment comes before the behaviour is executed.  With a reward, the behaviour comes first.  I waited for Woody to offer me the behaviour I was looking for, and when I got it, I rewarded him.

I see nothing wrong with snatching up random opportunities like this to let your dog know he's doing something right.  I assure you, you're not "spoiling" him.  On some walks, Woody might get three treats.  On others, he might get ten.  And still on others, he might get none!  Thanks to this unpredictable treat schedule, I've successfully turned Woody into a gambling addict, which in turn makes him a very well-behaved dog.

Well... most of the time.... ;)

The noise from within

I'm lucky.  I get to spend lots of time at home with my dog.  I guess that makes him lucky too.  It also means I can walk him in the middle of the day, when most of the people in my neighbourhood are away at work.

As Woody and I make our way along the quiet residential streets, I take the opportunity to study him while he makes his rounds.  His paws are moving at my slow (to him) human pace, but his nose is in turbo.  No odor gets past him, and I'm more than happy to oblige when he gets completely focused on a single, extremely important blade of grass for a solid 3 minutes. 

So intense is his concentration that he doesn't bother to look up when we stop squarely in front of a house with a very vocal Yorkie slamming the living room window with his tiny paws.  Woody used to be mildly interested in what this little guy has to say, but it seems with daily repetition, the news has gotten old and stale.

The Yorkie lives in a corner house, and his routine involves darting from the front windows to the large side windows as he follows our progress around the street corner.  To his credit, Woody doesn't bat an eye. 

Further along our path is a house with a Schnauzer also barking up a storm from the front window while perched on the back of a couch.  Again, no reaction from Woody, except maybe to flick an ear in mild curiosity.  The Schnauzer doesn't quite put his whole heart into it like the Yorkie does.  It almost feels as though he's doing this out of obligation... like the spectator in a sports stadium who feels he must stand and do the wave when it comes around, even though he'd really rather not.

Up a hill and around another corner, we reach the house I've dubbed "Team Lab".  This house gets Woody's undivided attention, every single time.  The barking from inside the house starts slowly at first; one Labrador Retriever suspects he might hear something in the street (us!) and lets out a couple of tentative phishing barks.  Woody doesn't fall for it, but the second Lab in the house says "What the hell, we've got nothing better to do!", and lets out a series of alarmed barks.

Aaaaaaaand so it begins.  The two Labs bark in unison while Woody takes his sweet time inspecting the curb in front of their house.   He's pretending to be very involved with a scent, but he doesn't fool me.  I see those ears moving.  I know his position is deliberate.  I prompt him to move on.

Right on cue comes the yelling and shouting from inside the house.  A woman -  I've never actually seen her - starts to yell at the dogs, I assume to get them to quiet down.  Instead, she creates an even louder mess as the dogs erupt into a barking, snarling frenzy, probably convinced she's barking right along with them.  Team Lab.  The chaos doesn't die down until we're long gone.  (Unfortunately for Team Lab, the only way back home for us is to walk by this house again!).

So why are all of these dogs barking at us?  Are they bored?  Stressed?  Being protective?  Afraid?  Neurotic?  The short answer is:  Yes.  Or no.  Maybe.  Does it really matter why?

I used to think it did.  Whenever I was contacted to consult for a barking dog, I'd ask a bazillion questions, trying to get to "the root of the problem".   It turns out the root is actually not that important.  The problem, is the barking in the window.  The problem, is that this behaviour is immensely reinforcing to the dog, no matter why he does it.  The problem, is that it won't go away on its own.

The problem, is almost always solved by simple management.  Remove the dog's access from the window; give him something to do while you're gone; don't be gone for 10-12 hours a day (seriously... like I even need to say that).  And in the case of Team Lab - for god's sake, resist the urge to bark with them.

The sad truth is that most people aren't even aware of what their dog does while he's alone in the house.  Set up a video camera one day.  Or park up the street and walk back.  See for yourself. 

In the meantime, I need to take Woody for his walk....