Please Don’t Call Me a “Dog Whisperer”

Each year, Jim, myself, and the dogs host a “Christmas Eve Eve Party” for our friends on December 23rd. It’s a night when many of our out-of-town friends that we only see once a year are in town for the holidays and not otherwise booked with family obligations. It is my favorite night of the year – a nice, mellow, fun evening with some of my favorite people (and dogs).

I try to keep the party fun for my dogs, too (and last year, a client dog joined the fun). I also know, that with a variety of tempting food dishes ALL OVER THE PLACE and wine-consuming partygoers leaving half-emptied plates on low-lying tables, that while I enjoy the fun, I cannot drop my guard. I have to watch my dogs at all times, in a state of constant readiness to either manage a situation to prevent “bad” behavior (like jumping or counter-surfing) and reinforce good behavior (like greeting politely, allowing for petting, etc.).

I prepare ahead of time. While I am busy prepping food and beverages for the party, I am also stuffing Kongs. When I buy groceries, I buy marrow bones. I know my dogs need things to keep them busy and therefore, out of trouble.

I also do occasional, very brief and fun training sessions with them to teach them that paying attention to me when there are 40 people in the house is a VGT (Very Good Thing – for dogs).

We’ve been hosting this party for over a decade now, and many friends have not missed a year. Many attended the first year we had brought Monte (my Saint Bernard) home. Ten months after adoption, he was much healthier than he was when he came to us and also much better behaved, but still had reactivity issues to being touched by strangers. He spent a lot of his first Christmas Eve Eve party crated. A few years later, those same guests were at our house where he would happily allow for appropriate petting in exchange for a tasty treat, would practice impulse control lying down while pieces of steak rained down around him, bouncing off his big head, slobber smacking on the kitchen floor. He was not crated, he was part of the party, having a great time.

One of my friends said, “Wow! He’s so much better behaved than he used to be. You’re like the ‘Dog Whisperer’.” Her face was beaming with the joy of having found what she thought was the perfect compliment.

That wasn’t the first or last time I heard the phrase. I’m sure they mean Cesar Millan and not Paul Owens (who is the “original Dog Whisperer,” having written a book by that name many years before National Geographic created their popular reality television show, and is actually a very talented, dog-friendly trainer), which means, I can’t possibly take the reference as a compliment.

Cesar and I both train dogs and their people. We both care deeply about helping dogs and people co-exist together more peacefully. But that’s pretty much where the similarities end.

See, Monte would easily have made a great dog for an episode of the Dog Whisperer – Cesar would call him a “red zone” dog. He would bark and lunge, slobber flying everywhere, sometimes to the point of vomiting, when he’d see another dog on the leash. One time, my friend bent over him and smiled at him. In a time span measured in fractions of seconds, he had her skull in his mouth (and thankfully, showed unbelievable bite inhibition). He dragged me into city traffic after a dog one day, nearly putting me in the hospital. He was a strong, powerful dog with strong, powerful unwanted reactions to dogs and specific other situations with people.

At the time, I wasn’t a trainer. I was a dedicated pet owner and huge Cesar fan. I tried the techniques I saw on his show and found his problems worsened. I had the opportunity to chat with Cesar once after a seminar, and he suggested that I wasn’t “calm and assertive” enough. I felt discouraged and hopeless.

I was as skeptical as many dog owners are about the power of positive reinforcement to address reactivity and aggression. “Seriously?! You think a toy noisemaker and some treats are going to help this dog?” It didn’t “cure” the problem overnight, but we did see progress right from the start. It was hard work. It required that we change our lifestyle and our thoughts about how dogs learn about the world.

But it worked. It worked so well that Monte was eventually able to enjoy play dates with carefully selected other dogs and even Christmas Eve Eve parties. It worked so well that I couldn’t stop learning more until I became a trainer myself.

On the surface, our results looked the same. Dogs and their people were able to enjoy the types of lifestyles together that they’d hoped for, dogs that started out with extreme behavior issues. Underneath the surface, our results and process were extremely different. I achieved my goals without the use of fear, intimidation, choke chains, prong collars, leash pops, “taps” with the foot to the ribs, or pinning my dog to the ground. I did it with cooperation, not opposition.

As for results? To a trained eye, body language speaks volumes. Monte was not stressed. He was happy, relaxed, more worried about when he would receive his next treat or scratch as opposed to when he’d hear the next verbal “Tschhht!” or get the “touch” in the shoulder.

There is a cultural assumption that only trainers who use coercion can be successful in rehabilitating and modifying the behavior of dogs with extreme behavior problems – whether the dog has killed a number of small animals, an established bite history with people or other dogs, or has torn the doors and windows out of the house as a result of separation anxiety. The second part of the myth is that trainers who eschew the use of coercion in favor of manipulating reinforcement opportunities only teach tricks to well-behaved dogs and allow dogs with behavior problems to die.

This is an urban legend. Most of the country’s top behavior consultants, including actual behaviorists (who have advanced degrees in behavioral sciences), rehabilitate “red zone” dogs every day, working with real life dog owners, a treat pouch, and dog and people-friendly techniques grounded in modern science. To me and all behavior consultants who use positive reinforcement to rehabilitate dogs with behavior issues, please don’t call us “Dog Whisperers” when you’d like to give a compliment (Unless followed by the disclaimer, “You know, the Paul Owen kind.” Then it’s ok.).

For more on the pitfalls of “Dog Whispering” as shown on NatGeo, check out the American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior’s Position Statement on Punishment for Behavior Modification in Animals and the Position Statement on the Use of Dominance Theory in the Behavior Modification of Animals.

About the Author: Casey Lomonaco graduated with distinction from the Karen Pryor Academy for Animal Training and Behavior, and is a member of the following professional organizations: APDT (Association of Pet Dog Trainers), CGC evaluator — AKC (American Kennel Club), TDF (Truly Dog Friendly), and the No-Shock Collar Coalition.

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Dear kill shelters: Please close your ‘open’ doors

If a person were taking in 10 pets a day and killing 7 or 8 of them every night, then taking 10 more in the next day, would you call them an “open admission pet-owner,” or a serial habitual animal abuser?

Seriously — if I see one more “shelter” defend their killing rate by proudly pointing out they’re “open admission,” I’m going to scream. I think continuing to take in animals you have no room for is stupid and immoral, and ten times more so when you then turn around and kill them. And to brag about it? Are you nuts?

Take the Michigan Humane Society, which kills nearly three-quarters of the animals it takes in, does not hold an animal control contract, and proudly brags that it’s “open admission.” I have a suggestion for you, MHS: Close your freaking door and stop killing all those animals.

That goes for Memphis Animal Shelter, too. They recently justified their kill rate, also around 75 percent, by saying they are the only  “open admission” shelter in their entire region.

Using the term “open admission” this way is the latest iteration of the “there’s no such thing as ‘no-kill,’ it’s just ‘someone else kill’” defense. Essentially it’s the implication that as long as strays are taken in and people are given the option of seeking shelter for a pet anytime and for any reason, the only possible outcome is that some — often most — of those animals will be killed by the very organization that takes them in. If they were “no kill,” by this logic, they’d say “no” to some pet owners, who would just head for the “shelter” up the road that would say “yes” and then kill them.

Why do they think it’s moral to take in animals you’re only going to turn around and kill? Because of the “fate worse than death” defense.

Essentially organizations like this contend that an “open door” to animals who will be killed is preferable to an uncertain fate on the other side of that door.

Are there really only two options for these pets, death or “a fate worse than death”? Of course not.

Just look at Washoe County, Nev., and Calgary in Alberta, Canada, where innovative return-to-owner programs have reduced the intake and sheltering of stray dogs to such low numbers that the community can save the few who aren’t able to go back to their families.

And look at shelters experimenting with making appointments for owner surrenders, places like PAWS Chicago. They save enough space in their program so they can take in urgent cases on the spot. However, they ask other pet owners to make arrangements for a future surrender date.

What they’ve found is that that most people are fine with that, knowing that if things become urgent the door is open, but happy to know that their pet will be given the shelter’s full attention and a careful, loving re-homing at a planned, future moment.

Anecdotally, and this is something I think most rescuers have seen, I’ve observed that once a person knows there is an “out” from the pressure and stress of whatever is leading them to give up their pet, they sometimes see their way clear to keeping the pet, or become more able to find the pet a home themselves, or at least, they get enough relief from the stress of worrying about it that they’re okay waiting for a little while.

Since there’s no data that I’m aware of — and if you know of some, I’d like to see it! — demonstrating that the “open door” does  a better job of preventing these pets from being abandoned than programs like that do, you’d think it would be a moral imperative for self-described “shelters” to not take in animals they’re going to turn around and kill, and give those programs a try.

Instead, they keep that damn door open as wide as possible and then brag about it — even though what they’re really bragging about is bad management, a lack of planning, and a failure to implement creative alternative strategies that are working in other communities.

All in the name of finding a scrap of moral high-ground to stand on while taking another pull from the bottle of Fatal-Plus.

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