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.
Friday, 3 June 2011
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
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.... ;)
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.... ;)
Saturday, 19 March 2011
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....
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....
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