Working through a socialization issue? Try not trying so hard. Try using more patience, with less effort. It doesn't look like training. It might not even BE 'training'! Could it be learning anyway?
My dog Lila (motto: "you can't be too careful") is wary of crossing wheelchair ramps, usually at corners of sidewalks, that are covered with rows of quarter-sized bumps, if we haven't encountered them for a while. (This regression with lack of exposure is a classic symptom of a socialization gap -- I don't recall seeing many of them when she was a puppy. Guess what my next puppy will do a lot of.)
So, today, not even thinking about it, I cross a ramp with her, she swings wide to avoid it. I cross back over the same ramp, she swings wide again. I turn back to make a third pass, and deliberately pause, waiting for her to feel ready. I don't know how to characterize what I am "feeling" for, but I don't even look at her. I just wait, believing she will regroup herself, and believing that she can do it when she is ready.
I feel it. We're ready. I say nothing. I do nothing to the leash. I make no eye contact. I make no deliberate body language gesture. I simply step forward. We cross. She stays closer to my side than her usual distance, but does not hesitate, bolt across, or otherwise show any sign of what I know to be a mild level of uncertainty. I don't react at all until a few steps later when we make eye contact. I smile, and we both just know. That was hard, and she did it. It wasn't a big deal, really. We then circle back and cross the same one and two different ones without pausing. She doesn't swing wide or "cling" to me. It's a big deal, but it's no big deal. I don't even bother to look. She knows I know how cool she is. I play it cool, too.
Not a soul realized we were "training", let alone how well it was going. Except me and Lila. (And, really,we're the only ones whose opinions matter.) I didn't work her through the situation like a dog trainer. I didn't cross the ramp like a dog handler or pack leader. If you watched her crossing, you'd have to know you were looking for that just slightly closer than normal proximity to me, and that just slightly lower than normal head carriage. It LOOKS like a regular human being and a regular dog just going about their day. (Ha! "Regular". Me? Lila? Looks are extremely deceiving!) It doesn't look like training.
If it were training, I'd be using a more deliberate cue that means "cross the scary and possibly uncomfortable bumps". It IS training, and the cue to cross the bumps is that there are bumps to cross.
If it were training, I'd be guiding her across, dragging her across, luring her across, placing intermediary surfaces to gradually remove over the course of the next 6 weeks, clicking for one toenail on the ramp,... I should be doing more than just standing there! But this IS training. I elicit her behavior by modeling the crossing several times, indicating my own belief in its safety. I model the target emotional state, which is near boredom. I deliberately wait for her readiness.
If it were training, I'd be using some kind of marker to indicate that she was doing it right. I'd use a release word or cue to mark the end of the exercise. Ok, maybe this isn't training after all. Horrors. Dogs can't learn unless training is being used, right?
If it were training, there'd be a reward of some kind. And "rewards" are only things like treats, petting, praise, play, attention, removal of pressure... Ok, you win. It isn't training. The immediate reward was... nothing! Deliberately!
Are dogs allowed to experience intrinsic motivation? The pride of doing something that was hard? Can dogs tell when we feel pride? Relaxed? Can they add up cross bumps + relaxed+ pride = I think I'll do that again? Can they feel a sense of relief at discovering that what they were worried about was actually nothing?
So, it isn't "training". I didn't shape anything. I didn't punish anything. I didn't work to elicit anything. I didn't reward anything. It's having a relationship. It's understanding that adding excitement while an event occurs helps to define it as "an event". (Crossing bumpy ramps is definitely a non-event, so no excitement.) It's appreciating the level of anxiety, of arousal, and how to avoid elevating it. In the end, it's indisputably learning.
Owners, handlers, and trainers can be motivated to engage in "dog training behaviors" by a mistaken idea of how learning has to look. Learning does not have to look like training, although it can, and often should. But, since we have a fixed idea of what changing a dog's behavior demands from the human's behavior, we repeat that behavior over and over, "rewarded" by the thought that we are "doing it right", or "doing what we should", or even "doing what we have to".
In reality, canine-human interactions have been so successful because both of our species are incredibly adaptable. There is no one "right answer". There is no One True Way.
If we are leashed to a dog who is "misbehaving", some of us feel compelled to look as if we are trying. "I [insert ineffective elicit strategy here: say ssst, get the treats, ask him to sit, jerk the leash] every time he does it, but he doesn't seem to get it. I thought he'd have gotten it by now that his behavior isn't working." It isn't nice, and shame on me, but when I hear this, I think: "Hmm... I thought you'd have gotten it by now that your 'training' isn't working." But, I guess, in the absence of a better strategy, it feels better to be using one that doesn't work but seems like trying, than to do nothing ('nothing') and appear as if we aren't trying.
As anyone who has ever skipped a class to explore the world already knows, learning doesn't just happen inside formal structure. Does formal structure have a place? Absolutely. Is it the only place learning happens? Absolutely not. Is it possible for humans to facilitate a dog's informal learning? I believe that's what I did today.
There are as many ways to learn, to teach, to understand as there are brains. There are many ways to provide formal training. There are many ways to provide informal training. Some of them work for some dogs. A few of them work for a lot of dogs. A lot of them only work for a few dogs. None of them work for every dog.
Keep trying until you find the way that works for you and for your dog, whatever it looks like.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
"It's only this one thing..."
An attractive, late 20s couple was examining the store's selection of muzzles as Lila & I strolled past, my arms loaded with 20 lbs of dog food, Lila, not so full of dog food as she would like. The woman was pregnant. Muzzle + pregnant? As insanely busy as I am, I had to go back.
Thankfully, the situation was not as grave as I feared. The 7-year-old "Heinz 57" or "all-American" had been acquired about 10 months ago, and has a habit of barking at animals on the tv.
The strategy they were considering to address this behavior was not unique. They were going to put the muzzle on the dog whenever the dog barked. This, they hoped, was going to teach the dog not to bark. Upon further discussion, I discovered that the dog has begun licking at herself.
They don't walk the dog every day.
The man does work with the dog on a routine of sits and downs, but nothing new has been added. He thought the dog was too old.
Of course, I expressed that I had heard about the failure of their approach, and that they should consider the entire lifestyle of the dog, add walking and more interaction, and also discuss the behavior with their veterinarian.
"She lays around a lot" meant "No, she doesn't need more exercise. This is a training problem" (it's a lifestyle problem) and "I don't feel like walking after a 12-hour day at work" meant he wasn't realistically going to be able to make that happen.
When I evaluate the situation, as if they were clients, or friends, or family, anti-anxiety medication would have to be part of my consideration. I don't like medications. They have side effects, and can be ineffective. They aren't my first recommendation. In fact, I grit my teeth when I can't simply dismiss them or postpone them as a back-up solution when other options are exhausted. There is no doubt in my mind that they are ridiculously over-prescribed. I've had clients who found that simply using common sense and diligence, they found much greater results than with medication.
But, coming from the dog's perspective, well... The dog won't know why she feels more relaxed. She won't be aware that it may slowly be killing her. She will experience better attitudes from the humans she lives with as a result of her relaxed behavior.
I think part of the reason why I don't like the medication solution is because it seems as if the human is refusing to do what I think needs to be done. More effort, more attentiveness to the dog, more exercise, more openness to new ways, more courage, more leadership... I rarely find myself telling people to back off of the work they are doing with a dog displaying problem behavior! But, the reality is that while we as "trainers" work with the human behavior, the goal is to make life better for the dog.
There is no One True Way. There are no "right" and "wrong" answers. We will always be choosing the best option we can from a list that does not contain ANY perfect solutions.
There are intellectual solutions, which work best for intellectual problems. There are emotional solutions, which work best for emotional problems. There are social solutions, which work best for social problems.
Then there are the shortcuts. These are what I call the "elicit" step. Getting the right answer to happen, sometimes shockingly rapidly. They are so addictive because they work short-term. Common practice is to use one until it stops working, then find another. Lots of hunting. Lots of stress at the moment when they stop working.
There are the mis-applied solutions. These are actually the right "elicit", being used incorrectly, and therefore ineffectively. Poorly used food rewards, inadequate praise rewards, improperly aversive techniques. They all fail, and can even make things worse.
Finally, there's good old optimism. "Optimism", I find, is a euphemism for "stupidity". You could call it optimistic to try to squeeze blood from a stone. Or you could call it stupid. Like the aforementioned muzzle approach, these solutions entail a hopeload of placebo effect when they work. They occasionally accidentally work, but not because they are good ideas. There are a lot of these solutions, and they seem to make their way around the dog park, doggie boutiques, groom shops, and, I've even heard some of them out of the mouths of veterinarians.
Interacting with a dog: cooperating with another complex organism, compromising and refusing to where appropriate, communicating, understanding is NOT a simple matter. Brain surgery is cutting your head open, when you oversimplify it, but saying so only displays your own lack of understanding!
Like everything else in life, it's just tough to know what you don't know.
Thankfully, the situation was not as grave as I feared. The 7-year-old "Heinz 57" or "all-American" had been acquired about 10 months ago, and has a habit of barking at animals on the tv.
The strategy they were considering to address this behavior was not unique. They were going to put the muzzle on the dog whenever the dog barked. This, they hoped, was going to teach the dog not to bark. Upon further discussion, I discovered that the dog has begun licking at herself.
They don't walk the dog every day.
The man does work with the dog on a routine of sits and downs, but nothing new has been added. He thought the dog was too old.
Of course, I expressed that I had heard about the failure of their approach, and that they should consider the entire lifestyle of the dog, add walking and more interaction, and also discuss the behavior with their veterinarian.
"She lays around a lot" meant "No, she doesn't need more exercise. This is a training problem" (it's a lifestyle problem) and "I don't feel like walking after a 12-hour day at work" meant he wasn't realistically going to be able to make that happen.
When I evaluate the situation, as if they were clients, or friends, or family, anti-anxiety medication would have to be part of my consideration. I don't like medications. They have side effects, and can be ineffective. They aren't my first recommendation. In fact, I grit my teeth when I can't simply dismiss them or postpone them as a back-up solution when other options are exhausted. There is no doubt in my mind that they are ridiculously over-prescribed. I've had clients who found that simply using common sense and diligence, they found much greater results than with medication.
But, coming from the dog's perspective, well... The dog won't know why she feels more relaxed. She won't be aware that it may slowly be killing her. She will experience better attitudes from the humans she lives with as a result of her relaxed behavior.
I think part of the reason why I don't like the medication solution is because it seems as if the human is refusing to do what I think needs to be done. More effort, more attentiveness to the dog, more exercise, more openness to new ways, more courage, more leadership... I rarely find myself telling people to back off of the work they are doing with a dog displaying problem behavior! But, the reality is that while we as "trainers" work with the human behavior, the goal is to make life better for the dog.
There is no One True Way. There are no "right" and "wrong" answers. We will always be choosing the best option we can from a list that does not contain ANY perfect solutions.
There are intellectual solutions, which work best for intellectual problems. There are emotional solutions, which work best for emotional problems. There are social solutions, which work best for social problems.
Then there are the shortcuts. These are what I call the "elicit" step. Getting the right answer to happen, sometimes shockingly rapidly. They are so addictive because they work short-term. Common practice is to use one until it stops working, then find another. Lots of hunting. Lots of stress at the moment when they stop working.
There are the mis-applied solutions. These are actually the right "elicit", being used incorrectly, and therefore ineffectively. Poorly used food rewards, inadequate praise rewards, improperly aversive techniques. They all fail, and can even make things worse.
Finally, there's good old optimism. "Optimism", I find, is a euphemism for "stupidity". You could call it optimistic to try to squeeze blood from a stone. Or you could call it stupid. Like the aforementioned muzzle approach, these solutions entail a hopeload of placebo effect when they work. They occasionally accidentally work, but not because they are good ideas. There are a lot of these solutions, and they seem to make their way around the dog park, doggie boutiques, groom shops, and, I've even heard some of them out of the mouths of veterinarians.
Interacting with a dog: cooperating with another complex organism, compromising and refusing to where appropriate, communicating, understanding is NOT a simple matter. Brain surgery is cutting your head open, when you oversimplify it, but saying so only displays your own lack of understanding!
Like everything else in life, it's just tough to know what you don't know.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Stop Handler Frustration with Good Showmanship
Thanks, J, for the idea! Sorry I didn't get this out sooner.
Our own frustration is an issue for every handler/trainer. Even the best have a day when they don't feel like training, feel rushed, feel pressured, or even have body aches and pains -- high likelihood of feeling frustrated!
When I feel frustrated, it's generally because I am expecting something beyond what _I_ know how to elicit -- which means that I have to lower my expectations -- i.e., reward a smaller piece of the behavior, OR come up with a new elicitation strategy (which involves some combination of creativity, conversations with trainer friends, and book/internet research).
In my training sessions, I take advantage of every "break" I can to take a deep breath and relax, look around. Very hard to have frustration in a relaxed body -- true for dogs or people! The break is usually after a release word, although when I am proofing an extended behavior (say attention, heel, or stays) for me losing focus, I will do it after a command.
I find that it also helps to have multiple items to work on. When LOOK isn't going well, switch to hi-5 or roll-over or something the dog will definitely get right, generally something the dog enjoys.
Although I self-monitor pretty well now, I haven't always. I find that lots of no, lots of corrections, and lots of frustration indicate a human being pushed (oddly, by their own brain) beyond their limits. It's hard to recognize that the kind of focus that good training demands is not much different than teaching a dog to pay attention. You can't start by demanding 20 minutes of staring at your face. Heck, 20 seconds of staring is a long time to begin with.
Humans, too, have a time limit for focus. I stretch mine by choosing various training activities to match my focus level. When I am fading, I do something not so demanding (like a nice long down stay, or something quick and mindless like jumps or tricks). When I am all gung-ho and excited about training, I do the hard stuff, the complicated, focus-demanding stuff, like very precise attention & heelwork.
The value of quitting while you are ahead is so large. It's so difficult to get really excited about a fantastic COME and then call it a day, but this is beneficial for both parties. Both of you think about how great that was, and end feeling great -- this is how we create an addiction in both parties-- and if you push through until you surpass the dog's and/or your limits, you both think about the crummy thing that training is.
It's like show biz. Leave 'em wanting more. If you give 'em (or yourself) all they (or you) want, if you DON'T leave 'em wanting more, if you give 'em as much as they want...? You are leaving 'em wanting NO MORE.
Our own frustration is an issue for every handler/trainer. Even the best have a day when they don't feel like training, feel rushed, feel pressured, or even have body aches and pains -- high likelihood of feeling frustrated!
When I feel frustrated, it's generally because I am expecting something beyond what _I_ know how to elicit -- which means that I have to lower my expectations -- i.e., reward a smaller piece of the behavior, OR come up with a new elicitation strategy (which involves some combination of creativity, conversations with trainer friends, and book/internet research).
In my training sessions, I take advantage of every "break" I can to take a deep breath and relax, look around. Very hard to have frustration in a relaxed body -- true for dogs or people! The break is usually after a release word, although when I am proofing an extended behavior (say attention, heel, or stays) for me losing focus, I will do it after a command.
I find that it also helps to have multiple items to work on. When LOOK isn't going well, switch to hi-5 or roll-over or something the dog will definitely get right, generally something the dog enjoys.
Although I self-monitor pretty well now, I haven't always. I find that lots of no, lots of corrections, and lots of frustration indicate a human being pushed (oddly, by their own brain) beyond their limits. It's hard to recognize that the kind of focus that good training demands is not much different than teaching a dog to pay attention. You can't start by demanding 20 minutes of staring at your face. Heck, 20 seconds of staring is a long time to begin with.
Humans, too, have a time limit for focus. I stretch mine by choosing various training activities to match my focus level. When I am fading, I do something not so demanding (like a nice long down stay, or something quick and mindless like jumps or tricks). When I am all gung-ho and excited about training, I do the hard stuff, the complicated, focus-demanding stuff, like very precise attention & heelwork.
The value of quitting while you are ahead is so large. It's so difficult to get really excited about a fantastic COME and then call it a day, but this is beneficial for both parties. Both of you think about how great that was, and end feeling great -- this is how we create an addiction in both parties-- and if you push through until you surpass the dog's and/or your limits, you both think about the crummy thing that training is.
It's like show biz. Leave 'em wanting more. If you give 'em (or yourself) all they (or you) want, if you DON'T leave 'em wanting more, if you give 'em as much as they want...? You are leaving 'em wanting NO MORE.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Don't Kill Bill
I got such a warm fuzzy from the photos in the most recent post on this blog, I just had to share.
I do, of course, adore Boston Terriers, a bull-and-terrier breed. You can see the bully heritage on the doggie-tilt-a-whirl photo at the bottom of the post.
Bill is, however, not a fortunate son, when it comes to his genetic past. Bill is a puppy mill dog. His owner, Kyla's loving perseverance has helped him recover from tremendous deficits.
Bill's story is a classic example of how "normal" dogs are treated differently. Normal dogs go on walks. Normal dogs enjoy play with other dogs. Normal dogs get to act wild, and no one thinks, "Oh my god! He's about to... [insert nightmare here]."
Treating dogs who are NOT normal as if they ARE? This is no small feat. There is nothing normal at all about a quaking dog! Kyla has done a fantastic job of transitioning Bill from where he was, while constantly aiming for "normal". Bill could have been diagnosed as a "fearful" dog. Is that what you see in the pictures?
Focusing on what success looks like is significantly more important than focusing on what steps are taken to get there. In fact, excessive focus on the HOW of getting there interferes with focusing on WHERE you are going. It's a bit like driving a car by watching the steering wheel and the pedals!
Enjoy! And don't forget to share Kyla & Bill's story with your dog-loving friends!
I do, of course, adore Boston Terriers, a bull-and-terrier breed. You can see the bully heritage on the doggie-tilt-a-whirl photo at the bottom of the post.
Bill is, however, not a fortunate son, when it comes to his genetic past. Bill is a puppy mill dog. His owner, Kyla's loving perseverance has helped him recover from tremendous deficits.
Bill's story is a classic example of how "normal" dogs are treated differently. Normal dogs go on walks. Normal dogs enjoy play with other dogs. Normal dogs get to act wild, and no one thinks, "Oh my god! He's about to... [insert nightmare here]."
Treating dogs who are NOT normal as if they ARE? This is no small feat. There is nothing normal at all about a quaking dog! Kyla has done a fantastic job of transitioning Bill from where he was, while constantly aiming for "normal". Bill could have been diagnosed as a "fearful" dog. Is that what you see in the pictures?
Focusing on what success looks like is significantly more important than focusing on what steps are taken to get there. In fact, excessive focus on the HOW of getting there interferes with focusing on WHERE you are going. It's a bit like driving a car by watching the steering wheel and the pedals!
Enjoy! And don't forget to share Kyla & Bill's story with your dog-loving friends!
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