Sarah was looking for some help with her dog’s highly reactive behavior, and when I learned that the dog’s name was Karma, I didn’t dare say no.
Karma is a Dachshund-Chihuahua (a.k.a. Chiweenie), with likely one other breed in the mix to explain the parts of her that aren’t quite Doxie nor Chi, such as her feathered tail. She has strikingly soft and silky fur. If she were a person, she’d be the envy of all hair models.
Although Karma could be an affectionate love bug, she could also be an obnoxious hooligan: intense barking, charging, and hard stares. Upon meeting her for the first time, she greeted me with all the aforementioned anti-affection.
But, in spite of all the dramatics that she mustered, they could not belie her body language: weight shifted to the back, body held low, charging-retreating, and jumping back like a roasted popcorn kernel if I so much as turned towards her.
Fear.
Overgeneralized fear is not breed or size predictive. From little Chihuahua dogs, to mid-sized French Bulldogs, and onto mighty German Shepherds – I’ve worked with them all, and more, to curtail intense reactions to innocent stimuli.
Karma already trusted Sarah to care and provide for her, but in the context of being threatened with bodily harm or death, as is often the (mis)perception of a fearful dog, Karma did not trust that she could hand the problem over to Sarah. How to explain this to a dog without the luxury of a human conversation? Both the “leave it” and short distance recall cues served as the platform to achieve this communication. They gave Karma specific direction and informed her of desired behaviors.
Like humans, dogs process “do this” better than “don’t do that.”
After a bit of progress was made, I upped the ante by bringing one of my stuffed-decoy dogs, a handsome Rottweiler that I named Cashew, to one of the lessons. I set him up in Karma’s backyard. The plan was to practice “leave it” under more stressful conditions. Short story: We succeeded. Longer story: I first had to stop Karma’s crazed, whirling dervish performance, which she gave upon spying Cashew in the distance.
Karma eventually settled (just enough), with Sarah standing to her immediate right and me standing to her immediate left. Karma would steal glares at poor Cashew between the gaps in our feet and legs, but she would “leave it” on cue, and with eye contact.
Behavioral training can be like the The Karate Kid. Just how waxing, painting and sanding led to greater things, dog training involves teaching individual pieces first. Once each piece is mastered, they are chained together into one complete cue or behavior. From the learning perspective, it can feel a bit disjointed at the start, and when ready for real-life application, it can feel as if one doesn’t know anything despite past lessons. The experience is analogous to moving beyond basic math (addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division) and onto mathematical word problems. When I was a kid, solving word problems was a nightmare for me, and looking back on it, a nightmare for anyone who tried to help me.
After stringing together cues, and practicing in the house, backyard and front yard, we took it outside in the neighborhood. We came across gardeners, passersby, and delivery guys. Karma was on alert, but Sarah kept Karma’s fear in check.
Sarah: …Karma recently went to Level 11 (a.k.a. berserk barking) at the vet’s office and just in the waiting room at the doggy daycare.
Me: She’s doing it in new places, but not doing it in old places. That tells me that things haven’t gotten worse. It just means we need to solidify new habits in places outside of your home.
For more on how dogs are place learners, check out What Dog Training and Martial Arts Have In Common.
The three of us subsequently made field trips so that we could train at the vet’s office, doggy daycare and local pet store. Karma had an epiphany…twice. On one occasion, she went from barking intensely to abruptly turning it off. On another occasion, she pulled away to investigate a suspicious looking dog, but then turned on a dime to get back to Sarah. Old habits die hard. But take heart.
There is also: Out with the old. In with the new.
Sarah: I had family and friends over to the house this past weekend. They all said Karma was a lot calmer now.
Me: Ah…There’s nothing like third party validation!
I asked how Karma got her name. “It was the only thing agreeable for everyone in the family,” Sarah told me. Then she added:
And “good karma; bad karma” is not lost on me.
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