Does your dog “know” how to come to her name when things are boring, but forgets all about you when things get interesting? You’ve done the training, you’ve followed a step-by-step plan, and you’re now out in the world...with no dog in sight. 

Or perhaps you’re aiming for a nice down-stay...during din-dins. You’ve got your dog to down, and you’ve got your dog to stay, but there’s the small matter of…din-dins. As soon as the tantalizing possibility of human food and human interaction crops up, your dog doesn’t seem to have a clue what this whole ‘down stay’ thing is all about. 

In both these cases, you might find it useful to consider how dog training and earthquakes are…related? That’s right, bear with me. In both dog training, and earthquakes...there’s a useful mantra. 

Magnitude matters. 

A tiny temblor might be of only minor interest to those who experience it. You grab your empty coffee mug as it shimmies on the table and call your friends to see if they felt the quiver. But you’re not fazed. It doesn’t feel major, or even that noticeable, and if something else pops up on your horizon like an ice cream truck (I mean, come on), or an important email from your boss, it’s soon forgotten. 

But an earthquake of a higher magnitude? A higher-magnitude earthquake matters. You pay attention, it’s foremost in your mind for a long time. And the memory of it lingers. Higher magnitude earthquakes are in the news and you’ll probably share the narrative of “where were you when…” for many holiday dinners to come. 

Magnitude. Noun. Size; extent; dimensions. 

Photo: Christik | © Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Magnitude matters for earthquakes. No one will dispute this. But when it comes to the food treats you are using with your dog, you might be surprised to find out that the same rules apply: magnitude matters. A minor quake might be of minor interest to you, in the same way that a piece of kibble or a palatable but uninteresting treat might be of minor interest to your dog. If we want our dogs to really perk up and pay attention...and for performance around heavy-duty distractions...we probably need to pay attention to magnitude. A delicious, soft treat is better than something boring. And a couple of delicious soft treats are better than a single, stingily-delivered, one. 

Our dogs, like us, pay as much attention as the situation warrants.

Which brings us to an interesting point. When I say magnitude, I’m talking about the magnitude as perceived by your dog, not by you. Just as your perception of the magnitude of an earthquake matters, it’s your dog who decides what is a minor temblor of a food treat and what is much further up the Richter scale. So if you’re finding yourself with a well-trained dog who finds distractions to be very, very distracting, you may do well to ask yourself: on a scale of meh to wowzers, are my treats magnificent enough?

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Wondering how you can harness the earthquake-like powers of good treats to help your dog learn some important life skills? Head over to my online learning partner’s site Doggy Geeks University to find a load of self-paced courses, including a few from yours truly!

Do you ever say “I wish my dog would do that more often!” after a particularly cute thing they do? Well, here’s some manna from heaven: you don’t need to wish anymore, you can actually change the likelihood of behaviour through a fun and easy technique called capturing. Well, although it’s called capturing in the dog training literature, it can feel a bit more like conjuring. Conjuring up something cute, on command! (That was a remarkably satisfying bit of alliteration right there).

So here is how capturing works. First thing, identify the behaviour you’re wanting more of. For example, I found it supremely cute when my greyhound/sled dog named Sitka did this trilling thing she does. Her face is cute, her behaviour is cute, and the sound is cute. It is the full package, and I knew I wanted more trilling. For your own scenario, you might be looking for backing up, howling, huffing, blinking…I mean, who am I to delineate your joy? If you love it and want more of it, read on.

Second, you must think about and identify the context in which the behaviour happens. And here is a preemptive no: it is almost certainly not random. Pretty much every behaviour happens in a certain place, at a certain time, or after a certain other thing happens. For example, Sitka usually trilled at me when she came in from outside. Not every time, of course, but occasionally. And when I started to pay attention, I noticed that she was more likely to trill when I was looking at her and leaning in a bit of a bow, waggling my head back and forth.

Third, you need to make the behaviour much more likely to happen. And here is where glorious, wondrous, oh-so-helpful reinforcement comes in. Reinforcement makes behaviour more likely to occur, it’s literally the definition of the word. You need to provide reinforcement right after the cute thing happens…which means you must, like the little girl scout that could, be ready to reinforce.

When I decided I wanted Sitka to trill on cue, I put a canister of delicious treats on the table by the door. This meant that treats, the easiest reinforcement to use, were immediately at hand in the exact place I needed them. With the treats easily available, I was able to reinforce Sitka every single time she trilled.

In the beginning, I would only get maybe one trill a week. I tried my leaning in and head-waggle thing, and had some success, but not a lot. I just carried on, reinforcing her after every trill, and in time, I found (to my delight) that what was once a rather rare thing started, at first imperceptibly, to happen more often. After a few months I noticed that Sitka was trilling almost every time she came in, and I was also able to get her to trill in other locations, by doing my leaning-head-waggle thing. Since her behaviour was now predictable, it was time to add the cue.

Fascinating aside: this is a fancy little window into what cues are, for those who like learning about dog training. Cues are signals to our dogs that let them know this:

if you do x, you’ll get y

In other words, cues don’t make behaviour happen, even though from the outside of the dog’s brain, it certainly looks like they do. They just let the dog know that the opportunity for reinforcement is available. I decided, perhaps regrettably, perhaps whimsically, that my cue for Sitka to trill would be me trilling. To help her make the association between her old ‘cue’ (some combination of coming inside and human leaning oddly and behaving like a curious chicken), I followed the proper cue-adding technique: new before old. I trilled, then I prompted the behaviour (or I slipped in a trill before she trilled, if it was obvious that she was about to). Every single time I used my new cue, I reinforced her for trilling with a treat afterwards. I didn’t want her learning a rule like “when the human trills, it means there is likely no reinforcement, so don’t bother”. Nay, I wanted her to learn the right rule, at least from my perspective: it’s always worthwhile to keep an ear out for the human’s random requests.

A few dozen repetitions (ok maybe more than that, but give me my patina of professionalism here), and Sitka was putting it together. Me trilling predicted the conditions that made her want to trill. We were off to the races: I trill, she trills; I’m thrilled, she gets a treat. It is probably my most favourite thing I have trained my dog to do, full stop. (Not convinced? I’ll direct your attention to a short video of Sitka trilling before we move on to the next, useful and healthful, way I used capturing.)

Capturing Safety

Recently, I used capturing to help keep Sitka safe. In a particularly hot and muggy spell a few weeks ago, she experienced serious heat stress. We were out on a walk, and she trembled and fell over a few times. My vet indicated that the humidity and temperatures were working together, and recommended that we both keep our walks shorter and rely more upon swimming than racing through the underbrush. I had a slight problem on my hands, though: Sitka did wade into the water and swim a few strokes, but only very rarely. And Sitkas do not fetch nor chase sticks, balls, toys, or anything of the like, any of which I could use to get another dog in the water. So what did I do?

I captured swimming.

I noticed that Sitka only went in the water when a few conditions were met. It was in one of only two places, and when there weren’t a lot of other dogs around, and…you get the picture. There were conditions I could re-create that made it more likely that Sitka would wade out and paddle along for a bit. I did re-create these conditions as best I could, and I added reinforcement as well. Sitka doesn’t come cheap, so I started (and let’s just be upfront about reinforcement here: I continue) with five treats after each swim. Although we’re early in the process of conjuring a nice little dip on cue, I can usually get Sitka to go for a swim before our walks these days. She’s as cool as a perfect little cucumber, in more ways than one.

What are you capturing these days?

Positive Isn’t Permissive!

I have probably seen a hundred beautiful info-graphics with this phrase splashed across the top, along with a vivid picture of a well-trained dog heeling or doing a down-stay. I have certainly shared a couple, in my time. Heck, I lived that credo when I first started training dogs.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand why those dog trainers (like myself) who use positive reinforcement to change a dog’s behaviour would say this. Some trainers who use shock collars, yelling, slapping, and other worrisome techniques have crafted a dog training narrative that assigns everyone to two distinct camps: one camp is their domain, a domain in which all dogs’ necks are bedecked with multiple types of ‘training collars’. The dogs in this camp spend a lot of time laying at their masters’ feet in obsequious obedience. And then there is the other camp, populated by ‘out of control’ dogs who show how unhappy they are without a firm leader by jumping up, never responding to cues, and so on. Dog biscuits are thrown at all dogs willy-nilly, no matter what they do.

This is what’s known as a false dichotomy, by the by. Those are not the only two camps, and in fact the premise of the second camp—that dogs need a firm leader—probably isn’t even true. Many trainers who use aversive stimuli are incompetent trainers, so can’t get a dog to change their behaviour no matter what (outside of, perhaps, the wary, cautiously still, and fearful state achieved when a dog is subjected to a lot of unclear punishment). And many positive reinforcement trainers are superb, training up dog after dog after dog to perform anything that the other camp’s dogs can, with the added benefit of the dog actually enjoying it.

But although I understand where we are going with the Positive Isn’t Permissive messaging—positive-only dog trainers can absolutely get the training job done—I have come to ponder our very use of the idea “permissive”. What does permissive even mean, for our dogs? According to the Collins Dictionary, permissive means:

habitually or characteristically accepting or tolerant of something, as social behavior or linguistic usage, that others might disapprove or forbid.

What kind of dog behaviours come to mind when we hear the old-time trainers mutter “permissive”? What are they disapproving of; what do they forbid? I think of my dogs, lolling on my couch or snoring on my bed. Is permission for this mine to give? I think of my dogs, playing with gusto inside our home. I think of my dogs, rolling on some scent on the ground, humping each other during play, wading into the swamp, tearing a paper bag into tiny, satisfying strips, running out the dog door to chase squirrels, dismembering a dog toy, guarding a ball, stopping to sniff something on our leash walks, running loudly to the gate to greet visitors, investigating the bags of groceries I put on the floor…I think of my dogs, as adult animals, choosing to do things that bring them joy.

Standing by idly as my dogs do these doggish things would probably earn me the stamp of ‘permissive’. I would be tut-tutted as the prime example of what happens when a dog isn’t schooled.

But hold on just a minute. If my dogs are not doing harm, why do I (and certainly why does another trainer) get to choose what, where, and how my dog, an adult animal with motivations, desires, and needs of their own, is permitted to do, to be, and to interact with their environment? I think we are past the time when we need to kowtow to the restrictive and harmful version of dog ownership wrought in dog training manuals from the 1950s, no matter how much more kindly we achieve the end point. We used to have to show that we were just as good, just as ready, and just as firm. Our dogs were just as obedient, heck, our dogs were more obedient! We’ve reached this point, I hope, and we’ve opened up some space to say…hey. We can set our own goals, and we can respect our dog’s goals. We aren’t our dogs’ masters, we’re our dogs’ friends. Beyond the needs of physical and emotional safety, permission isn’t ours to give.

Quite nicely, this quiet revolution can also apply to ourselves, as the humans in the equation. For example, I love playing in a rough-and-tumble way with those dogs who also enjoy it. When it comes to our dogs, we should enable and increase their joy and freedom, and share, most permissively, in it.

A few weeks ago, I decided to just follow my dog Mischa on our walk. Wherever he chose to go, well, I’d go as well. I crawled under logs, I lumbered across frozen wetlands sinking thigh-deep in granular spring snow (hooooo boy that’s cold), and I paused, quietly, in the lee of a large spruce tree, where the snow had melted and the warming ground released delicious scents. When I heard a twig snap in the distance, I activated. I ran, leaping over stumps, to join my dog-kin at the base of a tree. Squirrel! Squirrel! I selected Mischa to be my guide over my other dogs for a simple reason: I could keep up with him, at least most of the time. He’s large, visible, and a senior citizen at 12 years of age. He trots more than he zooms, which describes me as well.

Usually, I strike out on our walking trail (or if I’m feeling adventuresome, I follow a random wildlife path—I stay in the same area and at about the same time every day, so we’re predictable to our resident wildlife). The dogs charge around at will, returning to me to check in if they want, or if I call them—this is a paid proposition from their perspective, as I always have food on walks. Sometimes a few stay companionably close, especially in the last half of our walk. Mostly, though, they’re off, being dogs and doing doggy things. I love it.

I’ve recently found myself thinking about the idea of behavioural choice and autonomy. I’m blessed, and my dogs are blessed, and I’ve worked very hard to set the conditions up right to give my dogs a lot of autonomy. They have a dog door to a large yard filled with delights, and every day they walk off-leash with me through forests, meadows, and sadly for me/awesomely in their perspective, swamps.

But on the day I followed Mischa, I wanted to take things one step further. I wanted see what would happen if I let the dogs take the driver’s seat, and make the choices about where we went, how fast, and why.

I’m not sure what I expected (a window into the canine soul? …no such luck), but an interesting thing happened along the way. I learned that my dogs, given the choice, do pretty much what I do. They trot along, looking loose and happy, with minor bursts of speed and excitement. They stay close to each other, mostly, and enjoy drinking in the beauty of their worlds (them: nose. me: eyes). But in learning this about my dogs, I stumbled upon—stumbled quite literally, as you have no doubt guessed—something else. There is a beautiful minutiae of life on our walks that I don’t normally take in, and during my follow-the-Mischa experience, I couldn’t help but see (one’s face is much closer to the ground when one slithers, precariously, under brambles). In the words of dog researcher and author Alexandra Horowitz, I think I experienced something closer to my dog’s umwelt. “The idea of umwelt, which originated with the biologist Jakob von Uexküll, is that the world of each animal is defined by how he/she perceives and acts on the world” (source). I focussed on the ground, stopping often to examine items and places that Mischa investigated. I looked way up, into the highest branches, and stopped to smell the air or listen carefully, catching my breath. I examined the signs left behind for us from many woodland creatures, big and small: deer prints in the mud, delicate and defined. An alder sapling, rubbed bare by a passing bull elk. An explosion of feathers from a spruce grouse unlucky enough to be someone’s supper. Owl pellets with tiny, perfect, bleached bones, gently disintegrating on last year’s cast leaves.

Every time I paused, I found myself very aware of my canine companions…in case they came across something exciting over the next rise, and I’d be off at a gallop, following Mischa. Usually when I walk, I stay aware of my dogs’ location and activity in order to police their behaviour: I want to ensure they don’t stray far enough to go to a neighbour’s field or cross another imaginary (from their perspective) behavioural line. And although of course I will continue to keep my dogs safe and sound, I admit there was a bewildering delight and a kind of clemency in following their pace, their curiosity, and their bliss.

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A blog by Kristi Benson and Glenna Cupp of Practical Pup

Dogs love couches. This is an unassailable truth.

Credit: Fotoskat | © Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Cover photo credit: Dan70 | © Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Humans also enjoy a good sofa or chesterfield experience, of course, and many—most, I’d wager—modern homes have at least one around. In many modern homes, the humans and the dogs share this forgiving and comfortable resting surface easily and companionably. In the past, however, there existed an idea that having dogs on the couch was the first step to canine world domination, or that dogs would sprout some moral turpitude from having access to what humans have categorized (with utter randomness from the dog’s perspective) “human furniture”. Lingering remnants of this misunderstanding of canine motivations—they just find couches comfortable, the same as we do—along with a renewed spirit of cleanliness can bring about a proclamation from people who are upgrading their living room suite; a proclamation that dog trainers occasionally hear:

The Dog Shouldn’t Be Allowed on the New Furniture. 

When a client asks us to help with this task, we certainly have our ways and means. We can help the owner train the dog to rest elsewhere, and we can help the owner prevent access when they aren’t training. But in my experience, the most expeditious, and the most kind, way forward is to just be frank with these owners. If your dog has a full and comprehensive reinforcement history of getting on the couch leading to comfortable napping location and delicious snoozles, the likely outcome is that the dog will eventually be allowed on the new couch, just as they were on the old couch. The training to change this ingrained habit in dogs is somewhat intensive, for one. And for two, most of our clients really do want to give their dogs more of what their dogs love, which...is the couch, in this case. 

But that is not to say we invoke the mighty dog trainer’s diatribe to get our way with our newly be-couched clients. Nay, nay, we dog trainers are much more reasonable and gracious. We simply lay out the likely outcome: the five stages of keeping the dog off the new furniture. 

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Stage 1 is denial. You believe you’ll never let the dog on the new sofa. You bought a white sofa, after all. You are ready and you are righteous. 

Stage 2 is anger. You constantly find the dog on the couch, because they've always been allowed (see “long and strong reinforcement history”, above). But shouldn’t they see that it’s new? I mean yes, they’re dogs, so understanding the social and economic value of the newness of couches is almost certainly outside of their cognitive capacity, but. But. 

Stage 3 is bargaining. You read a bunch of articles online and might even consult a dog trainer. You buy huge and expensive dog beds and place them everywhere around the living room, including right on the couch ("just for now" you promise yourself), hoping the dog will eventually develop the correct preference. Before leaving the house, you even go so far as to pile bar stools, books and other tchotchkes onto the couch ("just for now" you promise yourself).

Stage 4 is depression. You see the muddy footprints, a bit of dog hair, or a warm indentation on the couch when you get home from work and you know your efforts have been for naught. You give way to tears and curse that beautiful white fabric you once loved.

Stage 5 is acceptance. You finally just buy a furniture cover and let the darn dog up on the darn couch. Balance is restored, birds sing, light and goodness suffuse.

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If you’ve recently acquired new furniture and have plans to keep your dog from getting up the couch, this is absolutely an achievable outcome. Any good force-free trainer can help! But you can also take a quick, if thorough, journey through the five stages…and then let your sweet snuggler up on the couch with you today, right now. Take that extra energy you had set aside for training and make a souffle or a cake, or stuff a few Kongs. Take the cash you would have spent on new dog beds and buy a few gorgeous covers or throws. And don’t fret about it or wallow in recriminations about yourself or your dog: there is nothing, I repeat nothing, morally superior about keeping your dog off the couch. It’s a human preference, pure and simple...even if your mother-in-law disagrees.

So… go ahead and fast forward. You’ve earned it, plumbing the depths of your psyche in this way. After spending some time in stage 5, snuggled up with your dog on the new comfy couch cushions, you realize how wise you were to see into your own future with such certainty.

A few weeks ago, I was lucky enough to speak with Dr. Zazie Todd, my friend, colleague, and author of the amazing book, “Wag: The Science of Making Your Dog Happy” (released March 10 by Greystone Books). Before the interview I had read—and loved—Wag, and found it a fun challenge to come up with questions for Zazie about the book and about her work on her Companion Animal Psychology blog. Later, she told me the questions were “fiendish”. I’m quite sure she meant deliciously fiendish. 

I’ve edited our conversation lightly for length and clarity. 

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KB: How has your passion about science communication dovetailed with your love of dogs in Wag?

ZT: it's been really fun to write Wag. And in a way, it's been a continuation of what I've been doing at my blog Companion Animal Psychology for almost eight years now, which is writing about what science can tell us about our pets. And I love writing about science. 

It's been great to have the opportunity to speak to scientists and veterinarians and dog trainers about what they're doing to try and make the world better for dogs. And it's also been fun making sure that it's practical. So at the end of every chapter, I have a little section called “Apply the Science at Home”...it's a list of tips based on what was in that chapter. And then at the end of the book, there's a “Checklist for a Happy Dog” with some things that [the readers of Wag] can look at. Hopefully they will find things that they're already doing, that they can be really pleased [about]. And maybe they will also find a few extra things that they can add in. And so it's been so much fun trying to make this something that is going to be practical and useful to people as well as to just explain all this really fascinating science that we're getting, this better understanding of dogs.

KB: I read in a popular science article that an alarming number of dog owners don't walk their dogs. So how do you approach messaging about this to try and get more people giving their dogs this, you know, really important vital enrichment and exercise?

ZT: That's a really interesting question. And it's a good one because there are dog owners who are people who would take their dogs for walks whatever the weather, and they love it. And then there are dog owners who are kind of the opposite in that they rarely take their dogs for walks. And I think if you're in the camp that goes out with your dog every day, it's a bit of a surprise to learn that there are people who don't do that. So I think from a science communication perspective, it's interesting to know some of the reasons why that happens, and also why walking is good for dogs. So dog walks provide the dog with exercise, it’s enrichment, and they have lots of smelling opportunities. Hopefully dogs [will also] be getting off-leash opportunities, and maybe social opportunities if they see other people that they like or other dogs that they know. There is research that shows how important exercise and enrichment is, in terms of reducing behaviour problems. 

There's a really interesting bit of research that I mentioned in the book...I spoke to Dr. Carri Westgarth, of the University of Liverpool. She spoke to people about why they walk their dogs and what they enjoy about it. One of the things she found was that for people who do walk their dogs, they like it because they know it makes their dog happy. So I think that's a really nice positive message to get across to people, that there are really good things for dogs about taking them for walks, and it will help to make your dog happy. And I think people can get behind that and that's very encouraging for people. 

But at the same time, we have to remember that science communication is not just a one-way thing. So it's not just about us filling in information gaps that people have. We have to think about who we are communicating with, where they're at and what is important to them. And I think specifically when it comes to dog-walking, one of the reasons some people don't walk their dogs is because it's difficult for them. Because the dog pulls a lot, for example, or the dog is reactive. It helps to give people ways to solve those problems. If the dog is pulling, then the easiest thing is to get a ‘no-pull’ harness—that's one with the front clip—and for some dogs, that will be enough ([although] in some cases, you'll still need to do some positive reinforcement training on loose leash walking). So it's also about understanding where people are at, and what they need, or what they would like...and helping them with that. You have to see it as a two-way street.

KB: Okay, so I know that you love cats and dogs. And so I was just wondering if writing about dogs and spending so much time on this book has given you any new insights into cats, or the relationship that humans have with cats...did you have any cat ‘aha’ moments?

ZT: I think my cat ‘aha’ moment relates to how dogs and cats get along with each other. Because there is a short section in this book about how dogs and cats get along, about the importance of the cat feeling safe. And that really is the most important thing in the relationship between a cat and a dog. I think that makes sense when you think about the size of a cat; that a dog is potentially a threat to them. But following on from that, just as the cat needs to feel safe...dogs need to feel safe too, in their relationship with us. I think one of the things that came out [of writing Wag] for me about dogs, was about the need for a sense of safety.

KB: I loved reading about your dogs and cats in this book. And I really liked how you use your experience as a scaffold—it seems like at the beginning of every chapter, you use an anecdote to introduce the topic. So recognizing that there can be a problem with dog trainers delivering advice based on their very limited personal experience (I joke about ‘my one cattle dog’ type of trainers [who say things] like my one cattle dog does this, so everybody should do this). How did you balance personal experience and science?

ZT: For me, I tried to let the science be the main driver of the story, and then [add in] the stories about my own dogs...I love writing those and sharing those things. I had some [stories] that didn't make it into the book because I tried to pick ones that related to what I was writing about in terms of the science. So [the anecdotes were] to illustrate things, as you say, like a scaffold; a way to illustrate what I was about to write about in terms of science, or what I had just written about. I think it's a useful way for people to see their way through the science, and maybe also help them to think a bit more about their own dog. Because that's ultimately what matters: how they can apply this information to their own dogs and their own relationship with their own dogs. 

KB: You got to dive into the works of some of the most interesting and forward-thinking dog researchers for your book, Wag. Did you have any gleeful ‘aha’ moments [*editor’s note: Kristi please stop using “aha moment”. Thank-you.] of your own, about yourself and your dog? Any introspective moments while doing the research?

ZT: I think my biggest ‘aha’ moment was to do with something that I already did, but it was to emphasize the importance of doing it even more. And that's [how] we can be a secure base and a safe haven for adult dogs. The research on how dogs feel about us suggests that it’s similar to the ways in which human children feel about their parents. For our dogs, we are a secure base from which they can go out and explore, and a safe haven to which they can return. And that really made me think about the responsibility of that, what that means in terms of caring for your dog. And in particular, because [my dog] Bodger can be a bit fearful at the vet...it just made me realize how important it is to take care of your dog and to be a safe, secure person for them; to keep an eye on when they are feeling stressed and to do everything you can to make them not be stressed. 

KB: You and I share a love of metaphor, which was the topic of your PhD dissertation. So you're obviously more...metaphorical than I am, as far as the knowledge goes.

[Editor’s note: We laugh here. Fiendishly.]

So since metaphor is so useful for communication and the goal of Wag was to communicate in plain but compelling language about the science of dog joy, amongst other things...did you find yourself particularly pleased about any of the metaphors that you used?

ZT: Perhaps because I'm a metaphor person, I found that a really hard question.

[More fiendish laughter.]

We often think of metaphor as being something poetic, [but] metaphor is also very, very important in everyday language. There's a whole load of metaphors that we use [all the time], such as talking about good things typically being “up”, how the body is a container and the way we talk about emotions as “bubbling over” or something like that. So that's one thing. [Metaphors are] not necessarily very poetic all the time. The other thing about metaphor is that it's a tool of thought: it helps shape how we think about things. So it's actually really important to be using the right metaphors. And I think it's more that there was a metaphor I wanted to avoid, if I'm allowed to give that answer. I wanted to avoid [wolf] pack metaphors. Because when people talk about dogs, [if] they use a wolf pack metaphor for dogs...it somehow brings out the worst in people. I don't know entirely why, but it's, it's like it turns them into those army people from 80s films who are horrendous and yelling at people all the time and punishing them and making them go do lots of things...it's like it encourages people to be a bit aversive in the way they interact with dogs. So I wanted to try really hard to avoid that, and to use family metaphors instead, because they're much more nurturing and positive and about guidance and teaching. I think that's a better way for me. That's a much better way to think about dogs. Also, it fits with the way that actually we all increasingly think of dogs as family members these days, which I think is a really nice societal change that we're seeing. 

KB: Yes.

ZT: I don't know if that's a good enough answer. That was the hardest question.

KB: That's an awesome answer. [We laugh]. I was kind of thinking you'd come up with something super clever, like “Well, on page 32, I…”

ZT: I know! I looked through and I was like, “No, I can't find anything like that.”

KB: Well, one of these days, you'll come up with a really clever one, and then you can tell me about it. Okay, so, here are some new questions that I don't think you already heard [I had passed along my previous questions to Zazie in advance of us speaking]. So sorry to be like, just...

ZT: No problem. 

KB: So maybe it's good practice for your later interviews with journalists. 

[We laugh]. 

I was interested in the biology versus culture question. I think it's Herzog who was talking about this...when it comes to acquiring a dog, biology is less important than culture [in other words, there are cultural differences in the desire to acquire a dog]. So considering that culture is a human trait, and humans are biological beings...so culture is a part of us and we are biological. How do you untangle the biology versus culture thing in your own thinking?

ZT: I think they are both entwined to some extent anyway, so I think it's really hard to untangle them. But the research by Hal Herzog was really interesting because it looks at cultural aspects of the kinds of dogs that people decide to get. And that's actually quite a big issue at the moment when you think about dog welfare because some breeds of dogs, especially brachycephalic [short-nosed] dogs can really struggle from a welfare perspective. They can actually literally struggle to breathe, some of them, and so the role of culture in choosing dogs, unfortunately, it does have some negative effects on dog welfare. Even if individually, people are making decisions that are right for them and their family, it's not necessarily good for dogs as a whole. And there is still a biological part because of the way we're drawn to neoteny in dogs [the way dogs retain puppy-like or baby-like characteristics into adulthood]. I think that does shape some of what we find attractive in dogs. We prefer dogs with baby-like expressions. 

They are both entwined. But it's really interesting to see...Herzog’s research is really fascinating, and it's quite mind-blowing to see the effect that it has.

KB: So that actually leads us very nicely into my next question. What is your favourite way to be both gentle and realistic about the risks of brachycephalic dogs, and the welfare question, as a science communicator? 

ZT: I'll be honest, I found that quite hard to write about in the book. But nobody goes out to get a dog that has health problems, they get a dog because they think it's cute, and they think it's the kind of dog that's going to fit with their family. And to a large extent, people don't really know very much about breeding practices...I think they have this belief that they are good. It was quite eye opening to find out that many puppies sadly come from puppy mills, where they are bred in really horrible conditions, and [some breeders] don't necessarily care about some of the things that maybe should be tested for. But also it turns out, it's really quite a difficult thing with brachycephalic breeds, because there is some very recent research that found that you can't just take all brachycephalic dogs out of the breeding pool because that would get rid of too much diversity in terms of other genetic factors. So it becomes a very complicated question to solve. I think the main thing is to remember that people get dogs because they love them, and they love their dogs. And it must be so hard to have a dog that has health problems that could have been prevented, perhaps by better breeding. And it must just be a horrible situation because we all know what it's like to have a sick dog, it is just a horrible thing. So I think you have to try and understand where people are coming from. And at the same time, just lay out what the how things are because people deserve, and need,  good quality information. I think people want that kind of information. 

So you have to tell them but at the same time, you have to understand that people are trying to be good dog owners, they love their dogs, and that's really important to remember, right?

KB: You occasionally sometimes use human development analogies between puppies and children. In the book, so what are the strengths of this approach for a general audience? And how do you mitigate the risks?

ZT: I do that because I think there are some similarities. I mean, sometimes people have said to me, “I think it's really strange that puppies have a sensitive period for development”. And so I think it's helpful for people to know that other species have similar kinds of things. In puppies, the sensitive period ends at 12 to 14 weeks. In kittens, it ends around seven to eight weeks. And in humans, it will be at different ages depending on what aspects of development you're looking at. 

For most species, those early life experiences are so important, and I think it helps bring home how important they are...it's not just puppies that this applies to, but early life experiences for human children are really important for their future development too. I think that helps people to understand [the importance of socializing puppies]. I guess the risk is that people might be too anthropomorphic and treat their puppies like babies, perhaps. And I guess the other information in the book is very much related to what dogs need as dogs. So hopefully that risk is mitigated and good information about dogs comes through.

KB: Do you have anything that stands out as something that surprised you? 

ZT: The one thing that really struck home for me was to do with the lifespan of overweight dogs, which is only like one line in the book I think, but the figures for the difference in lifespan for a normal weight dog compared to an overweight dog in particular breeds is actually quite large. ...For some dogs, it’s five months, I think...for German shepherds, and Yorkshire terriers, I think it’s 2.5 years...the difference is horrible to think about because ...all dogs live too short of lives, we can all agree on that. And then if they're overweight or obese, it knocks this extra time off and that really hit home for me. And I'll be completely honest, there have been times in Bodger’s life that he was overweight, because he was the kind of dog who likes to eat a lot…as many dogs are!

[We laugh, knowingly]

KB: It’s so hard! I mean, food is love and we just want to shove love in their mouths.

ZT: Yeah, that's right. But that data really hit home for me about what a big difference it makes.

KB: If you could just wave a magic wand, and do any research about dogs...well, what do you think is important to do? What would you do if you had a magic research wand, and you could fund and populate and crunch. 

ZT: I would love to see some longitudinal research looking at puppies, and what happens to puppies when they're puppies and how that follows through in terms of their adult development and what they’re like as adult dogs. Well, one of the studies I mentioned right at the end [of Wag] is Generation Pup and Dogs Trust is just doing some longitudinal work like that. I can't wait to see the results. I think it's going to be really interesting...instead of just taking data at one point in time, to actually follow dogs through their lives and see what happens from when they’re very small... I think that's going to be really fascinating.

KB: Right? Absolutely. Especially with the puppy question [about how to socialize and how much] for sure. Was there any research that you really wanted to try and shoehorn in but you just couldn't make it fit?

ZT: Unfortunately, yes, there was actually a lot. I had to really focus on the research that I thought was most important for dog owners to know about happiness and dogs. There was a horrible point in the editing when I had to cut 10,000 words from the book. It was really hard. And yeah, unfortunately, there isn't as much as I would like, but at the same time, I think that forced me to be quite focused on what was most important for this particular topic. So the science that isn't included...some of it was really fascinating, interesting science, but it wasn't especially relevant to what I thought would help dog owners.

KB: I have two more questions about science communication...I don't think this is going to take too long to answer. So when you say things that the science is a bit up-in-the-air about, you often use phrasing that implies possibility...such as might mean that or may mean this, especially in your summaries at the end of each chapter. Do people who are unschooled in science interpret these cautionary phrases appropriately? And did you find that a tricky row to hoe as an author?

ZT: I hope they interpret them appropriately. I mean, I do say in the book that we need to learn more and we're always learning...so I think it's not that we already know everything we need to know; we still have a lot to learn. But I think that when we're not sure about something it's important to say that we don't know for sure yet, and we do need more research. I know sometimes people get fed up when you say ‘more research is needed’...but it's important to acknowledge when that's the case, because science builds on itself all the time. And that's actually one of the things that's really exciting about it. 

KB: Right! Okay, so the last question here is that I loved your ‘Checklist for a Happy Dog’ at the end [of Wag]. Where did that idea come from? How did you come up with that? 

ZT: Oh, thank you. Because...I'd been coming out with all these tips for the end of each chapter, I wanted to make it something that was really helpful and really useful for people. So I thought it would help to put the most important things into a checklist that people could use to see what they were already doing right, and what maybe they could do a little bit better, perhaps, from the dog's point of view. I wanted it to be useful. I wanted the book to be useful. So once I thought of it, I just had to do it.

KB: So did you just come up with it midway through the writing process kind of thing? 

ZT: Yeah, yeah. It draws on things from throughout the book. So from across the whole of the book. And I guess in a way, it's a bit like a welfare checklist for dogs...thinking about what they need, and whether or not people are providing it. I think for some of those things, a lot of people will say, yes, they're doing it, and some things will be new for them. I'm hoping that some people will write and tell me what they found from the checklist ...which bits they found helpful, which bits they were already doing, because that would be interesting to know (you can find my contact details on my blog, Companion Animal Psychology). I would love to know that.

---

Thanks so much Zazie, for your book, your interview, and your dedication to improving the lives of companion animals!

Cover photo Zazie with Bodger, credit Bad Monkey Photography.

Dogs need their teeth brushed, and the enamelled truth of the matter is that we have to do it for them. It’s not like they could hold a toothbrush in their furry little paws, could they? Toothbrushing is “a part of our ever-expanding picture of what we can do to keep our dogs healthy and happy for as long as possible”, according to Rachel Szumel (rhymes with pummel), a colleague and friend of mine. Rachel graduated from vet school at the University of California Davis in 2007, but didn’t stop there: she went on to get her Certificate in Training and Counseling from the Academy for Dog Trainers in 2015. She works for Alpine Animal Hospital in South Lake Tahoe, California, where she lives with her husband, two children, and a 100% spicy 100% Chihuahua named Mamacita. If you’ve taken my online course for house-training dogs, you’ll be familiar with Mamacita (a famous graduate!).

Rachel has created a course to help owners get in the habit of toothbrushing, and to get it right…from your dog’s perspective. Most dogs are not comfortable having their teeth brushed and need some training to get there. It’s not heavy-duty training, but like all programs to get dogs chill and happy with having stuff put on them or done to them, it must be done right—which is why Rachel’s clear course is such a boon to dog owners.

*Sorry about the terrible pun in the title of this article. I just can’t seem to help myself.

An interview with Rachel

Recently, I had a chance to speak with Rachel about training dogs to be comfortable having their teeth brushed, and other oral health topics. We had a great conversation (and I learned a lot)!

Is dog dental care important?

Toothbrushing and dental health are indeed important, and are much more important than many dog owners may be aware. “People just don’t know that the health of the mouth affects the rest of the body. Toothbrushing is important because it helps maintain the health of the soft tissue around the teeth: the gums.” There seems to be an idea held by the general public that dogs magically keep their teeth clean, without brushing and without oral care. This is simply not the case. “If we stopped brushing and going to the dentist, our teeth would fall out, just like they did in the past!” Dogs’ teeth are similar to ours: they need care and attention. Without regular dental care, bacteria in the mouth gets into the bloodstream and can travel to other organs. These bacteria can cause inflammation in these organs, and inflammatory proteins then themselves move through the body and inflame other organs. With poor dental hygiene, inflammation in the kidney and heart are “the big ones, and all that inflammation and infection affect the rest of the system too.” It’s not just teeth and gums that are affected: it’s the whole dog.

In addition to causing systemic illness, poor dental hygiene is probably painful for dogs. “Most of the time, a dog will come in with a broken tooth or with bad periodontal disease. The owner says they’re eating fine –but then after an extraction, the owner will come back with ‘oh my goodness they’re acting like a puppy’…so really, their dog was dealing with chronic pain and illness.” Many dogs will eat well enough despite chronic mouth pain, so this isn’t a good enough way of measuring oral health. Sometimes, owners will see behavioural change, but typically tooth pain and disease causes dogs to have a slow decline. Owners will often report, after finally getting dental care, that “I had no idea that he was feeling bad”. Rachel also sometimes sees tartar build up unevenly in a dog’s mouth. “If the tartar is uneven, more on one side, my theory is that they’re not chewing on one side, and maybe there is some pain.”

When should we call the vet?

So, how can we tell if our dogs need veterinary dental care? Although people expect bad breath from dogs, it’s actually not normal nor healthy. “The reality is that if there is bad breath, there is inflammation and infection. A healthy mouth does not smell like anything.” If your dog has bad breath, time to pick up the phone and schedule a visit with your veterinarian. Off the top of her head, Rachel guessed that without toothbrushing and regular oral care from a vet, 90 percent of dogs probably need something in the way of oral care: perhaps just a need to start brushing, but possibly something much more invasive, such as tooth removal. The smaller the dog and the more brachycephalic (short-faced) the dog, the more likely it is that the dog will need extensive, invasive dental attention. This relates to the shape of the face and the size of teeth relative to the facial bones. As we bred dogs to be ever smaller as adults, the bones of the skull got smaller, but in a weird evolutionary quirk, the teeth didn’t follow suit. So in small dogs and short-faced dogs, there is much more tooth for the amount of bone. The teeth just don’t have as much bone to hold on to. In addition to the ratio issue, there are more frequently genetic problems as well, such as retained, impacted, and crowded teeth, and malocclusion (when the top jaw and bottom jaw don’t meet nicely as they should). All this, according to Rachel, can lead to more periodontal disease.

I was glad to hear that my own dogs, sizeable sled dogs with long snouts, might only need toothbrushing! They have it a bit easier than their smaller cousins.

Another flag that it is time to call the vet is red gums. “The gums should be a nice even pink all the way down to the tooth. If there is a red line at the tooth, that’s bad. Or worse, it’s all red instead of pink.” Blood during toothbrushing is also worrisome, except for the first week or so after you start. If you’ve been brushing for longer than a week and you are seeing blood, call your vet. “If you’re seeing teeth that are moving, broken, call your vet. And if there is tartar, call your vet. If your dog is suddenly painful, or has a draining abscess in their mouth or under your dog’s eye—call your vet.”

Veterinary oral care happens on anaesthetised dogs, and anaesthesia does have some risks. However, the risk is far lower than it used to be, so Rachel encourages owners to be proactive about dental care. “We can do a lot more to prevent problems and have a lot more monitoring. The risk is much lower than it’s perceived to be and the standard of care has really improved. In most cases, the benefit far outweighs the risk.”

What can we, as dog owners, do at home?

Rachel had a few recommendations about dental health for dog owners. “The biggest thing by far is toothbrushing. Using an additive in the dog’s water can help, and dental type chews can help. But brushing is the biggest!” Chewing items is relaxing and enjoyable for dogs, so we support the provision of chew toys for all dogs. But it’s not a replacement for brushing: it doesn’t get all the teeth. Chewing hard items (i.e. if you can’t put a dent in it with your thumbnail) also runs the risks of breaking teeth. “I tell my clients they can give their dogs chew items that are hard, if they can afford to fix the broken teeth that will inevitably result.” Toothbrushing is also extremely affordable: it’s just a toothbrush and if you use it, some toothpaste. Although brushing your dog’s teeth doesn’t mean you won’t need a professional cleaning at some point, but it can absolutely save you some money, especially for those of us with big dogs that don’t have bad periodontal disease. In this case, brushing is both cheaper and more effective.

There is no age limit for toothbrushing: owners should start brushing “the minute they get their dog. Start now!” The only time to avoid toothbrushing is if there are oral health concerns, as the dog’s mouth might then be painful. “Brushing is not going to save teeth that are already loose. If you have an older dog and there is any question about the safety and comfort of you and your dog, see your vet and see what they want to do before brushing.” Once your vet gives you the all clear, you can start training your dog to be comfortable with toothbrushing.

Although the rare dog might be fine with toothbrushing right from the get-go, and the rare owner might find it easy and simple to add toothbrushing into their routine, this isn’t typical. Generally, dogs aren’t used to having people mess around inside their mouths, and might balk, chew, or just exit. In some cases, dogs might associate the handling of their mouths with being pilled, or with a previous painful experience. And even if a dog is comfortable being handled, the toothbrush itself might be too much. “When you introduce the weird feeling of the toothbrush, they vacate the premises!” The other hurdle is on the human side. Toothbrushing our dogs is a habit, and we’re busy, and getting into new habits is hard. Like, really hard. “It’s another thing, we all have plenty of things already.” Rachel got in the habit of brushing Mamacita’s teeth at the same time every day: “I do her right after I do my teeth, right when I go to bed. I’m calling her anyways to get into her crate in our bedroom. That’s when I remember to do it. My motivation is that she’s a tiny dog and I want her mouth to stay as healthy as possible. And of course I don’t want to be a hypocrite—if I’m telling my clients to do it, I’d better be doing it at home! Also, she likes to lick inside of my nose, so the quality of her breath matters.”

Rachel created Pearly Whites (her online course) to help dog owners both with the training part and the motivation/habit part, and in a clear, step-by-step manner. “Before, I would try to tell my clients how to train their dogs for toothbrushing…but I only had a twenty minute appointment, and I found myself feeling like I was describing the process inadequately. I wasn’t setting the client up for success.” The course is made to be fun and exciting, so just about as far from a trip to the dentist that you could imagine.

If you’re brushing, especially if you have a high risk dog, you’re much more likely to keep those teeth around and functional. And your dog will be much more comfortable... It’s part of our ever-expanding picture of what we can do to keep our dogs healthy and happy for as long as possible.

Ready to sink your teeth in? Head over to Rachel’s course now.

Another guest blog by LuLu the Alaskan Husky

Dog friends, I come to you in peace. Unless, of course, you want my black spiky chew toy. In that case, peace you will not get, but a piece of me you almost certainly will.

Ahem. I digress.

Dog friends, we need to talk about something dreadfully serious. Our humans, bless their wonderful hearts and bless their hands full of delicious salmon snacks, have a huge failing that might affect me, or you, or any of our four-legged brethren. This failing is one of judgement and bias. Now, now, now, friends, don’t get me wrong: dogs also have failings of judgement and bias. A friend of mine used to find sticks that resembled snakes to be terrifying! Obviously sticks should be ignored, as they are not actually scary, so this was erroneous in the extreme. (As an aside, I do see the Spaniel Thing chasing sticks and bringing them to the human. Being a husky I turn my nose up at this behaviour, but then again, I spend an inordinate amount of time chewing on a black spiky rubber ball, so perhaps let’s just say “we all have our foibles” and leave it at that.)

Back to humans.

Humans, like all living things, get injured. Like all the time. Like, all the time. They stub their toes, they scratch themselves on various sharp objects, they cut their fingers as they are chopping carrots (which are delicious and don’t let anyone tell you different, BooBoo). Sometimes humans even break their limbs doing things like skiing or hiking. They burn themselves on hot stoves, they burn off their eyebrows with Bunsen burners whilst learning science, and…I mean, the list goes on, my friends. The list goes on. Humans aren’t inured to injury, of course. But they typically take injury in stride. A band-aid, a cast, a complaint, a few Tylenol, and they’re off to the races. Well, they take it in stride if they caused the injury themselves, by walking or playing hockey or existing or whatnot. This is not so when a dog causes even a very minor injury, my canine compatriots. Not even close.

Let’s compare, shall we?

Injury one: A scratch to the face.

Condition A: Caused by a branch whilst walking through a wooded glen.

Consequence A: A mournful selfie, a bit of polysporin.

Condition B: Caused by a joyful doggo’s paw during play.

Consequence B: Physical punishment, vet trip, calling in an uncredentialled dog trainer who guarantees results. Several terrifying-sounding diagnoses, including “over-arousal”, and a trip back to the breeder.

Injury two: A large bruise on the back of the leg.

Condition A: Caused by a tumble, a trip, a tumultuous travel down a short flight of stairs, perhaps after a tipple (or two).

Consequence A: A selfie (how do they manage to get their legs and faces in the same photo, one wonders? It amazes), some unproven plant-based salve, a good story for the supper table.

Condition B: Caused by a joyful dog pulling hard on leash if another dog walks by.

Consequence B: Physical punishment, sudden and sour refusal to provide the only exercise some of our canine compatriots ever get, and the human spending quality time on the internet finding ever-more horrifying “training collars”.

Injury three: A small bleeding wound.

Condition A: Caused by a slip o’ the knife whilst chopping carrots for a lovely stew.

Consequence A: A selfie, a band-aid, a bit of polysporin.

Condition B: Caused by a dog who is clearly terrified of strangers but whom a stranger, nonetheless, approaches and pats.

Consequence B: Death. We dogs literally die for this.

My furry friendlies, I tell you this in hopes that you’ll leave this article open on your human’s device (in the bathroom works, I’ve found, they’re a bit of a captive audience there). Humans judge injury-by-dog using such a fantastically unreal metric that some good self-examination on their parts is well past due. Obviously, when real harm is being done, we canines stand beside our humans in making hard decisions: cellphones shouldn’t explode, insulation shouldn’t cause cancer, and the rare dog who is—by a sad quirk of circumstance or through sad decisions made by breeders—terrified of and aggressive towards people and who also bites with maiming force must not be given any opportunity to do this. And obviously, we enjoy training (oooooh, the delicious noms! And the human, gazing upon us with joy! Such delirious fun) to help the human’s behaviour and our behaviour fit more smoothly, like a comfortable jigsaw puzzle; to replace the pulling and pawing with companionable promenading and companionable play.

But small injuries are small injuries, no matter how they are caused. We dogs should be given the same shrug of the shoulders that is directed towards playground equipment, kitchen knives, hammers, door frames, team-mates, porch stairs, cats, soccer balls, shrubbery, and hell, paper.

Shouldn’t we?

Scene: my living room, evening. A mug of hot chocolate, steaming, is on the table. Six dogs are laying around in their beds in various positions, snoozing.

One dog is not.

Timber goes from snoozing dog to snoozing dog, being a pest. He paws Datson in the face. He noses LuLu* into a brief play session. He innocently smells Walter’s teeth, pushing up Walter’s lip, which then starts to go up all on its own, if you get my meaning. He whines and stamps his feet and backs up and marches forward, like the little steam engine that really could get on everyone’s nerves.

Well, you’re probably saying. And you’re probably saying it with a bit of satisfaction, because you have erroneously assumed that as a dog trainer my dogs are wonderfully well-behaved. Well, you say again. Aren’t you a dog trainer? Fix the dog!

There is a long list of things I could do here, absolutely. I could put Timber in another room and shut the door. This would be a so-called ‘management’ solution: when he doesn’t have access to the other dogs, he can’t be pestering them. I could also train Timber to do a down-stay, in order to earn delicious treats. In this scenario, he would lay on his bed for ever-increasing increments of time. When Timbers are laying on their beds, Timbers aren’t innocently smelling another dog’s dentition. Or I could use negative punishment, which means Timber would learn that when he pesters x, y, or z dog, he earns a short stint away from them in the bathroom. Since Timber gets a big kick out of being near dogs, this penalty-box approach actually produces results, because Timber will work to stay with his crew. And by work, I mean change his behaviour.

But I’m not going to do all that. First up (and this will be no surprise to anyone who knows me) I happen to be lazy. I do use time-outs with Timber to protect Datson, who finds him overbearing and even worrisome. And Timber absolutely does know how to do [mumble mumble] on cue due to all of my…uh…my training work. But the main way I prevent pestering Timber from harassing his housemates every night?

I meet his needs.

When Timber is active, unsettled, unmanageable, and annoying, he isn’t communicating anything in the typical way we think of communication…he’s not telling me anything on purpose. But his behaviour speaks volumes: he still has a pocket full of ya-yas. He is not tired, he is not satisfied, he is not feeling settled and snoozy and serene. And the way to get a Timber into that somnolent state (and trust me when I say it’s a beautiful thing), he needs for me to meet his needs. He needs for me to meet his exercise needs and his enrichment needs; he needs for me to meet his play needs and his hanging-out with the humans needs. He needs for me to meet whatever is on his biologically-inscribed to-do list. And I can do this, I can provide this for him, most of the time. I meet his needs with a good long loose walk, tromping through the snow, during which he plays hard and runs hard and practices recalls. I meet his needs by tossing out new toys and cardboard boxes and toilet paper tubes for him to dispatch. I meet his companionship needs as I hang out doing my thing, writing articles about him while he rests comfortably nearby. I offer him solutions that work for me and keep the peace in my home.

And when life intervenes and I have to be gentle with myself, and Timber doesn’t get a check mark in each of those boxes? I don’t blame him for being stompy and unsettled. (I don’t blame myself, either…we are all doing our best.) I know that relief is right there on the horizon, though: a stuffed Kong toy (or two [or three]) for now, and a bit more of my attention and time tomorrow. A snoozing, sighing, satisfied Timber is worth it.

* LuLu, being the whimsical creature she is, just won’t play with any other dog or in any other location, so when Timber and LuLu play right in the middle of everything, we simply have to let it happen.