SteveDuno's blog

I’ve had some pretty darn good dogs.

I’ve gotten to train thousands of dogs of all shapes and sizes. Some good, some bad, all interesting.

Through training, I’ve been able to help save thousands of dogs from the grim reaper. I’m grateful for that.

I haven’t been bitten that often. And when I was, it was pretty much my fault. Mostly.

I have helped thousands of people to keep their dogs.

I have talked hundreds of people out of getting a dog at the wrong time or for the wrong reasons.

I have been around dogs long enough to see into them, and not at or around them.

I can see who a dog is now, and that’s a great gift. Thanks for that.

Of the ten thousand or so dogs I have known, I have only disliked seven, I think. Yes. Seven.

I’m grateful for my weakness for strays, ferals, jailbirds, brigands, jerks, thieves, refugees, and geriatrics.

I am glad that I usually keep a leash and a few treats in my car, for those times when, driving home, tired, in the rain, at dusk, I see that errant lost dog with no street savvy, running around like a kid lost in a department store, that silly, desperate look on its face.

I am glad that I grew up in a New York apartment building, and didn’t have a dog until I was thirty-three.

I am glad that my books have helped people across the globe.

I’m glad that I have been brutally honest with people about their dogs.

I am very, very grateful that my life was saved, at least four times, by my great dog, Lou. Very glad. Thanks Lou.

I am grateful that I get to talk with all of you. I should do it more often. But I am grateful.

I am even grateful for cats.

We’ve all seen it; the toy dog planted on a driver’s lap while he or she motors around the neighborhood, the dog standing up, looking out the windshield or sticking its head out the open window. It often blocks the driver’s view, and at the very least is a terrible distraction to both the driver and others driving by.

Or there’s the dog (or dogs) kept loose in the car, jumping from front to back, sticking its head out the window, barking at pedestrians or cars, being a general distraction and nuisance. Or the dog kept in the back, its nose pressed up against the back window, with absolutely no protection from a careless driver rear-ending its car and sending it to the hospital.

If you wouldn’t let a child sit in your lap while you drive, why let your dog?

Then there is the dog kept loose in the bed of a pickup truck. There is perhaps no better predictor of dog injury or death than seeing one standing up in a truck bed, moving at seventy mph on the freeway.

A dog loose in the car can distract a driver and cause an accident. And if an accident does occur, the dog will be catapulted forward, potentially breaking the driver’s neck, or flying through the windshield and getting cut to ribbons. That dog sitting on its owner’s lap, or on the passenger seat? It will be almost certainly be killed by an air bag when it goes off. Dogs with their heads out the window, sniffing the air run the risk of either falling out and getting killed horribly, getting its head clipped by another car, or at the least getting road debris or some other foreign body in its eyes, nose or throat, causing infection or injury. Simply having fast-moving air forced into a dog’s mouth and nose can over a long period cause respiratory ailments. I have seen this numerous times; it’s no laughing matter.

What’s the motivation for disregarding a dog’s safety while in a car? I’m frankly at a loss to understand it, but perhaps I can guess. Some people simply like the company of a dog in the car, and are comforted by it sitting on or beside them. Again, I’m sure you like your children too, and you would never consider letting them sit on your lap, or jump from seat to seat. Also, many people feel that properly securing a dog in a car is an imposition, both to the pet and to them. Go figure.

I have to confess to being guilty from time to time. If I’ve had to take my dog a mile or so to a park, sometimes I have simply let him jump into the back seat for the quick ride. It’s a function of being too lazy or rushed to put his crate into the car first. And when my back is sore (often these days), I simply don’t want to take the risk of hurting myself while stuffing the big bulky crate through the back hatch. In any event, it’s not fair to the dog.

Solutions? First, never let your dog ride in your lap. It’s dangerous for both of you, and will likely result in your dog’s death in an accident. Next, do not let your dog stick it’s head out the window. Again, the dog’s desire to do it does not outweigh the dangers. And avoid putting your dog loose in the back seat or way back, thinking that it will be safe in an accident. It won’t; it will get hurt, and so might you.

For most dogs, getting an airline-rated plastic crate and securing it to a seat will protect the dog nicely. Get one sized to the dog; a Chihuahua in a Great Dane’s crate will get tossed around too much. You can usually situate a crate in between a front and back seat, so that it won’t move around. A small crate can fit in the back or on the front passenger seat, and literally be seat-belted in through the handle. Avoid the metal crates, as they can injure a dog in a crash. Go for the plastic, with a blanket or two inside.

An alternative to the crate would be a a restraint harness, available at any good pet store. A good harness, fitted to the dog, will have padding on the chest, and a slot for a seat belt to slip through. Your pet can ride in the passenger seat, safely if you so choose. Just make sure to turn off the passenger airbag, if this is your choice.

At the very least, a dog gate can be purchased and placed behind the seats in a hatchback, minivan or station wagon, with the dog riding in the back behind it. This will protect the dog in case of a deceleration accident involving the front of the car, and will also protect you from a flying dog. It will not protect your dog from a rear-end collision however.

How ever you do it, find a way to protect your dog and yourself while driving. And do not leave your dog in the car during hot weather, even for five minutes, especially if it’s a toy, or an old dog. Not only do you risk your dog to heat prostration, you will have dog lovers breaking into your car to help the pooch. Just don’t do it.

Driving with your dog is necessary, but need not be injurious. If you protect yourself and your kids, you should give the same courtesy to your pooch.

In a fit of boredom yesterday I watched a bevy of sheep herding videos, most starring that most fascinating of breeds, the Border Collie. Some involved seasoned dogs, while others showed pups and green dogs just learning their trade. The herder/trainers used white PVC pipe crooks, as well as whistles and their voice. Most used a circular pen, which, sans corners, helped keep the sheep moving.

And that’s it. No treat motivation at all: just audible direction and praise, and the occasional use of the crook to redirect the sheep or the dog. No punitive techniques, no saccharin pleas- just what was there in the pen.

Clearly, the dogs were born to it. They loved it. Even the pups seemed to know what to do. The shepherd simply guided, prodded, encouraged, and managed their natural instincts to herd. It was fun to watch, and a nice break from helping solve routine suburban dog aggression issues, or teaching a dog not to tear a sofa to shreds.

If these Border Collies could be persuaded to master their instinct to herd without the benefit of obsessive treating, then why couldn’t your average everyday dog be taught in the same fashion?

I’ve used treats for decades, to initiate behaviors, and to intermittently reinforce existing ones. The food drive is strong in dogs, so why not harness it? But I also feel that trainers today push the treats way too hard, and encourage their clients to do the same.

Trainers who base their techniques on the training of undomesticated cetaceans by trainers at Sea World believe that the best way into a dog’s mind is through its stomach. They claim that, if it works on a five ton orca, why wouldn’t work on a spaniel?

Whale trainers rely on fish and clicker reinforcement to train. It’s a “force-free” operant method, meaning there is no avoidance training, no punitive measures. When dealing with a five ton animal, how else would you persuade it other than through the use of fish bribes? You simply cannot cajole them to do anything they refuse to do. They can also swim rings around you, and well, eat you if they so choose. So, food bribes make sense.

But what of a domesticated animal like the dog? Food training, particularly when backed up with a secondary reinforcer such as a clicker, works well to create and shape new behaviors, and in some cases alter existing ones. The “click” marks the behavior at the precise moment it occurs, helping the animal understand exactly what is expected of it. It is a bridge between the behavior and the food reward. And it works quite well as an initiator of new behaviors.

But it’s not the best tool for modifying serious behavioral issues, particularly aggression in its many forms. I cannot tell you how many times I see tense people walking their anti-social dog around busy parks, struggling to juggle leash, clicker and treat pouch, as their dogs snap out at other dogs ambling by. “Distraction” training like this simply does not work, except to give these people false hope that they can defuse their dogs’ deep-seated fears simply by diverting them with food. Tell me: do you think you’d be calmed by a ham sandwich while your transatlantic flight plunges down into the Atlantic?

Though there is nothing wrong with treat training, understand that dogs are not lab rats or whales, but instead complex, sentient, domesticated creatures with psycho-pathologies as intricate and enigmatic as that of any human being. Those of us suffering from PTSD, OCD, or some other deep-seated phobia know that cures for these issues do not come overnight, but instead take years to manage. It’s no different for a dog, particularly for one who is deathly afraid of something, and couldn’t care less about the cookie you’re waving around.

Maybe, just maybe, the best way into a dog’s mind is not through its stomach, but through its heart.

Let me explain.

Years ago I had the privilege of living with one of the greatest dogs I’ve ever known- my uber dog Lou, the subject of Last Dog On The Hill. Found as a feral six month-old running with a pack of other ferals, the Rottie/GSD mix was spirited, smart, independent, and used to camaraderie from birth. Lou was a always team player, and, though a food lover, learned and performed his amazing array of behaviors more out of joy and friendship than for bones, cookies, dinners or other edible inducements. Like the Border Collies in those videos, Lou learned and performed because he wanted to, and because he loved it. And, more importantly, because he wanted to impress me.

He flat out adored me, and it showed. When I was attacked by beach hooligans in Venice, California in 1990, Lou, normally a sweet, loving dog, erupted into volcanic fury and ran them off. When I got caught in the middle of an armed robbery at a 7-Eleven the year after, he did the same, fending off an armed man who’d had the bad notion of stopping me from calling 911. Over the years he would defend me many times from aggressive dogs I’d committed to saving from the grim reaper.

We were friends from the first day we met, to the day he died.

That’s the indispensable motivator. Lou would have literally jumped off a cliff for me, because he loved me. I was his family. He didn’t need treats, and after the first year or so, I rarely even used them. Like those herding dogs, he just wanted to please, do, learn. Treats did not birth this loyalty, any more than food can define pack loyalty among a family of wolves or dingoes, who stay together not for venison handouts, but out of familial love. Beyond infancy, loyalty in the end is not a food-based behavior, for us, or for dogs.

When a dog wants to do “A” but does “B” because he knows it’s what you want him to do- that’s the definition of a well-trained dog. That dog has got skin in the game. But more than that, he’s a dog who is motivated by loyalty, passion, and mutual admiration. A dog trained to perform for praise, attention and love will develop what I call “passion proofing”- no matter what, that dog, be he a Lab retrieving ducks, a Border Collie herding Merinos, or a police dog chasing down a bad guy, will perform not for a treat, but for the sense of belonging to a larger cause. He cannot be distracted from his task by someone waving a hamburger at him, or by a strange dog walking by. He does what you want, because that’s what he wants.

Think about it: If treat training is so effective, then why would K-9 dogs or search-and-rescue dogs not care a whit about food while they are performing their tasks? What is driving them? It’s their passion, and their love. It’s the same for dogs with behavioral issues such as aggression: that is their passion, and food distraction is to them is, frankly, a ridiculous notion.

Dogs trained on too many treats can become pushy and neurotic about things. I’m sure you’ve seen it: the dog who stares incessantly at his handler’s pocket instead of his eyes. And, though the clicker surely does help accelerate learning, it can sometimes make things too reactionary, with an edgy sense of over-excited expectation. I’d rather have my dogs “sit” or “spin” at a calmer pace and know what they are doing, than to have them mindlessly snap out rapid-fire behaviors in expectation of a tidbit. And, dogs rewarded too often will actually begin to slow down on their response times, because they know the food is always coming. Unpredictable reinforcement, much like human gambling, will actually tend to strengthen the behavior.

And, too many treats make dogs obese.

So try this. First, dedicate yourself to teaching your dog a new behavior, without the use of treats. At all. Use praise, a ball, pats on the head, play- whatever you can come up with that reinforces the bond, and not your dog’s narcissistic craving for food. One plays off of and builds camaraderie, while the other simply encourages a dietary quid pro quo. Can you see the difference? The treatless method will take longer, but the results will be more comprehensive and lasting; your dog will learn the behavior, and grow closer to you in the process, instead of simply slipping into that self-serving “food entitlement” mindset.

Then give him a big fat steak and a tummy rub.

Dogs love food. They wormed their way into our campsites long ago because of it. Neolithic garbage dumps, remnants of a gutted deer, uneaten yak bones- these things drew wolves in, and at some point, an enterprising hominid figured out that regular feeding of these wild Canids could lead to a domestication of sorts, or at least a loose partnership. The Canids got regular food in exchange for guard duty. Puppies were taken from dens, and the long history between us began.

Many behaviors I train my dogs to do begins with some form of treat motivation. You sit, you get a treat. You come when called, you get a cookie. Spin around like a corkscrew, bit o’ chicken. Simple motivation that harkens back to the stone age.

But once a dog gets the behavior, I begin to ladder back on the frequency of treats, replacing them with praise, a toss of a ball, a scratch- almost anything the dog might like besides a treat. I use treats unpredictably from that point. This actually creates a heightened expectation in the dog: he or she doesn’t quite know if a treat is coming, and therefore becomes more responsive and excited than if I predictably gave a treat every time. It’s a fundamental rule of training: if you give a treat every time, the dog’s response time goes down. But be unpredictable with those cookies and you’ll ratchet up response time.

Unlike most other trainers, I take this one step further: I often get to the point where no treat is offered at all. How then, you ask, can I then maintain a high level of training in my dogs?

Simple. I tap into another canine instinct that is nearly as strong as food drive, one which, if developed, will not only ensure great response time, but also create a more loving, attentive attitude in a dog, while also reducing the fixation on food. Very simply, I get my dogs to perform because they like me.

A dog who performs for love or attention rather than for a treat has a completely different behavioral presentation than one taught to respond only to treats. The food fixated dog focuses on- you guessed it- FOOD. He rarely makes eye contact with his trainer, preferring instead to stare at a pocket or hand. She’ll often ignore any request from someone not holding a cookie, in favor for someone (even a stranger) holding a tidbit. It breeds a sense of cunning opportunism in dogs, and reduces any type of group loyalty. And, no matter what you have read to the contrary, dogs are instinctively all about the group, the tribe, the family. But, just as kids can become shallow and manipulative if parented only with bribery, so will dogs become manipulative, pushy, and selfish when treat-trained too much.

I have had dogs risk their lives for me, fight for me, search for hours for me in the woods, break through doors to catch bad guys, dig through snow drifts to find me. These were dogs who wanted to do things with me for my company, and not my pantry.

In 1990 my great dog Lou successfully defended me against two Venice Beach hobos determined to give me a beat down.  He didn’t do it for a bit of beef jerky. Rather, he did it because the very thought of me getting hurt was too much for him to bear. Instead, the hobos got the beat down. A palpable sense of fellowship, separate from food bribery, existed in him: Lou could not imagine me harmed, and couldn’t picture life without interaction with me. I was his reward. Me. Pretty heady stuff.

Current training philosophies in my opinion have abandoned utilizing the dog’s inherent desire to be part of a group, and to covet its members. Instead, a mindset that treats dogs more like lab rats and less like loyal partners has taken over, and created treat-centric dogs who robotically work for the gut, and not the heart. Treats come out of every pocket, eventually leading to a somewhat anti-social, self-indulgent mindset. I see it in dogs all the time: many clients have dogs who, if given the chance, would run off with the first person holding a bag of cookies. These dogs have terrible or non-existent recalls, become incredibly pushy and demanding, and, as an aside, get pudgy from a doubling of needed calories. And, they often become food aggressive around other dogs. If I wanted a dog like this, I’d get a cat.

I have even begun initiating new behaviors in my dogs using only praise, toys, or games as rewards. No initiating treats! Not only does it work well, but it fosters a sense of cooperation and camaraderie right from the start. I might give a treat or two in a week’s time, but that’s it. Think about it: does a younger dog in a two-dog home love and appreciate the elder dog because it gives the youngster cookies? Or is it pure camaraderie, pure affection and solidarity? I think you know.

Try spending an entire week substituting praise, play, toy rewards, petting and quick massaging for a bag of treats. You’ll see that, in addition to performing for the attention, your dog will focus more on YOU, and not your largess. And he’ll be able to fit into that silly Batman costume you bought for him yesterday, for the doggy Halloween party coming up.

If you want a child, have one, or adopt one. Just don’t make one out of your dog.

The need for humans to nurture is eons old. It’s natural, and good. It’s not even limited to humans: all parenting mammals show an innate drive to nurture, cherish, and protect their young. It’s preservation of the species, clear and simple- an effective way to ensure survival, and pass along the genes of successful animals.

But what of dogs? Should we cherish them in the same way we do a human child? Is that their purpose in life? Are pets simply surrogate kids, here for us to love on like some Raggedy Ann, or Teddy Bear? Or, are they more than that? Do they have their own complex, species-specific behaviors and phenotypes which define them, and which require us to treat them accordingly?

Forgive the multiple questions, but I’m filled with them today. My point is this: I believe dogs deserve to be treated as dogs, and not humans. They have their own precise behaviors and physiology, which do not include being swaddled, burped, coddled, or dressed. They don’t want to enroll in online dating, have their nails painted, take Rolfing classes, go to a French restaurant, or get their fortunes read. They do not want to wear jewelry, sunglasses or perfume, or get plastic surgery. Honest. That's just you projecting onto the dog.

Dogs DO want to smell dog butt, play, run, eat, wrestle with other dogs, chase cats, swim, find stuff, poop and pee, bark at strangers, roll in garbage, catch and fetch, and, well, be dogs.

The penchant for applying human characteristics to animals is immensely common. Just spending ten minutes on Facebook will reveal photos (many photo-shopped) of lions cozying up to lambs, horses hugging children, or Chihuahuas dressed up like Elton John.  Ugh.

The real issue here is anthropomorphizing, or the need to humanize your dog, out of a desire to parent something other than an actual human child. Dogs are easier to care for than babies; they are mobile and responsive when only a few weeks old, and don’t need constant care for eighteen years. They bond quickly, and can communicate far better than a three month-old person can. They aren’t helpless, and don’t require a financial outlay of several hundred thousand dollars. They are smarter sooner, and generally more compliant than kids. Babies are cute, but they can’t fetch your slippers.

Unfortunately, this opens dogs up to the increasing phenomenon of humanizing, which, in my opinion, is a form of objectification. When a dog becomes a fashion accessory or squeeze toy, it’s time for a bit of self-evaluation. It becomes a little too "Baby Jane" for my tastes.

I have seen near-insane degrees of this “baby-fication” in my twenty-five years of training. They include:

• An elderly lady who’d set a place at her table every evening for her Yorkie, and serve the dog the same food she ate, off of fine china. The dog would stand on the table and lap water from a crystal tumbler.

• A fellow who carried his Pekingese everywhere in a sling, even at home, never letting the poor atrophied dog walk.

A woman who kept twenty toy dogs of varying breeds in her apartment, and spent the entire day having nice chats with them.

• A woman who wheeled her bonneted pugs around in a double-decker baby carriage, and had individual, water-filled baby bottles for them to drink from.

• A grad student who knitted a sweater for her whippet from hair she collected from her other dog, a Great Pyrenees.

• A man who insisted on keeping his beagle diapered for years, instead of housetraining it.

• A married couple who fed their Pomeranians by hand for their entire lives, for fear that the dogs might otherwise eat too fast and choke.

These situations are nuts, and symptomatic of people who desperately need to nurture something, but either cannot (or won’t) have a child.

News flash: it’s not cute, or kind. It’s patronizing, and harmful to the dog.

Each of the pampered dogs above showed profound anti-social behaviors, particularly toward other dogs. They had no confidence whatsoever, and simply did not know who to be. Genes pulled one way, human wants the other. They bit, barked, cowed, chewed off their hair, got sick often, ate poop, and acted like feral terrors at the veterinarian. And, most of them lived shortened lives. To add insult to injury, the people all asked me for behavioral help for their poor dogs. Guess who needed the behavioral help?

Domestication does not make dogs human. It does not matter that we have selectively bred them, manipulated them, trained them and altered their appearances for 20,000 years. It doesn’t matter that they, unlike other animals, make honest eye contact, and show near human emotional reactions. It means nothing that they are so tractable, and engaging. They are still four-legged canids with species-specific traits that do not match your own.

Dogs can smell a roast beef sandwich from a thousand yards. They can hear the high-pitched chitter of a mouse while you busy yourself in the garden, unaware. They can run much faster than you, and have hair all over their bodies (I know, some of us have uncles like that). They are innately suspicious of strangers, and constantly vie for status and control with dogs and other people. They have a different menses schedule, and a brain the size of a peach. They think in concrete terms, and are incapable of abstraction. They get fleas and ticks easier than us. They do not understand consolation. I could go on, but you get the idea.

Like humans, dogs can be spoiled. Dogs can become pushy and rude. Dogs can be violent and scared and contrary. Or happy, or content. No argument there. But how they learn to be any or all of these things depends in large part on you; give them constant gratis attention and reward, without any quid pro quo, and they will slowly become pushy, neurotic little nitwits. Expect no obedience from them, and they will happily oblige the chaos. And, treat them like Little Lord Fauntleroy, and you’ll end up with a crappy dog who you have to cloister off somewhere and make excuses for.

Instead of trying to make your dog into a proxy person, try to make yourself into a proxy dog.  They can't think like you, but you can understand things from a dog's point of view.

Do me a favor. If you need to envelop some small creature with a nurturing lather, just volunteer at an orphanage, have a child, or get a guinea pig. Otherwise, respect your dog’s species-specific traits, and end the babying.