How to Win Over Fireworks

      Over at my neighborhood the explosion of fireworks on New Year’s Eve can get pretty lunatic. This is a hard time for dogs. 

Spot hides under a chair

      The fireworks over at my area are fierce. At the countdown of New Year’s Eve, the explosions increase in crescendo and frequency and neighbors would bravely step out amidst the cloud of smoke to wave at other neighbors and greet each other. I remember in years past my sister and I would peep timidly out our gate our ears blocked with cotton to muffle the sound but as the paper shrapnel and grains of soil caused by an exploding firecracker blasts at us we’d squeak and close the gate to shield ourselves from it.

      I used to push my bed away from the wall on that night because my dog Spot tries to crawl under it and the only way to get under the bed is to enter it from under the headboard. I don’t know what my other dogs do but they’re all not in sight while we’re up and about on that boisterous night.

      But I’ve seen the agony dogs go through. When my bed is flushed to the wall and Spot can't crawl under it, I see my dog desperately trying to dig through the floor just so he could get under anything.

The Search for the Right Method

      This need to finally address my dog's fear of explosions started a few months before the New Year. One day, between our agility training sessions at the park, I visited Bobbit, president of the Mondio Ring club. Their area is adjacent ours.  I had Spot in tow. It so happened they were having a session where they fire a cap pistol in the air as part of a protection dog’s training. Soon as the occasional pistol shot cracked in the air, Spot dove under the table trembling in fear.
      Bobbit noticed it at once. He remarked, ”Gun shy? Your dog is gun shy?”
      I replied in the affirmative. “How do you remove that fear?” I asked him.“That’s a problem at our place especially on New Year’s Eve.”
      Bobbit said, “Distract the dog. Give him a training lesson when there are fireworks.”

      Easier said than done, of course. But it wouldn’t work with Spot. As the year approached its end and occasional fireworks would explode during the day, I'd call the dog and try to review him his tricks but the dog would be in no mood to listen to me.

      So I wasn’t getting it right.

      Next, a friend of mine at the agility club named Mariel brought up the idea of a binding vest (called a "thunder shirt") which a dog wears as a way to deal with fireworks.  It follows the same principle used by farm owners to console cows distressed at sudden loud sounds such as thunder, according to her. The cows are each backed into a very tight pen, so tight the cow cannot turn around at all. Some websites sell these tight elastic vests. A friend of ours who bought one for her firecracker-shy Retriever, according to Mariel, said that it worked on her dog.

      I tried to see what I could do (short of buy the darn vest online). Spot had an old Superman t-shirt which he wore when he was younger. I was sure it would be several sizes smaller on him by now.

      The t-shirt was a very tight fit. But it wasn’t working. As the occasional firecracker blasted away in the streets (maybe the neighborhood kids on a dry run?) the dog was still visibly upset.
      Since I’ve long known the dog does not react when I hold his ears shut against his head, I thought of finding a way to keep those ears closed.  The elastic bandage came to my mind.

      The dog made quite an amusing sight. Wearing a tight Superman t-shirt, his head bandaged by several layers to keep his ears covered, I led the dog into our sitting room where the firecrackers out in the street could be heard.

      Again, it didn’t work. Aside from the dog’s wide-eyed look of fear at the strange binding around his head, soon as a series of explosions wracked the stillness in the air, Spot, visibly distressed,  scrambled on the wicker seat where I was on and struggled to insert himself between my back and the wicker chair.  Ah, I thought, he wants that snugness. So I leaned back hard on the dog while he squeezed behind me, his bandaged head sticking out above my shoulders.

      But was the dog relaxed? He wasn’t. I could feel his heart palpitating, almost as if his whole body was vibrating with it, against my back. This wasn’t working.

      I undid the bandages and peeled off his t-shirt when the peace returned in our street.

      What now? Short of relaxant pills (the dogs each get an anti-stress pill on that night), elastic vests, and “distracting lessons” during firecracker explosions?

Your Silent Canine Observer

      Last year, I heard of a game played by owners with their dogs at a summer camp at Mt Makiling. Participants were asked to form two lines facing inwards and to leave a small pathway for a dog and owner to pass through. Taking turns, each owner, blindfolded, would walk down that pathway while leading his dog.

      In that game, it was observed that some dogs followed obediently beside their blindfolded owners while there were others who didn’t.

      Why did the other dogs not follow their masters in that situation? Their behavior was explained by the moderator. He explained that dogs reflect the attitude (and personality) of their owners. If the owner was fearful of walking blindly down that straight pathway, the dog would learn to be just as fearful and as a consequence, refuse to follow. But if the owner, regardless of the situation, showed a confident attitude, the dog, looking at his master as his leader, would follow.

      It's a further demonstration of how the canine, being a pack animal, is wired to look for a leader in his life. So where the hell did my dog get that fearful reaction of firecracker explosions?

      I didn’t have to look far. He got it from us. As a young dog, when he saw us squeak and cringe when we’d peep out the gate every New Year’s Eve, Spot concluded the explosions were to be feared.

      Now I have to show this dog that firecrackers (and pistol shots) aren’t scary.

How to Show That Fireworks are Exciting

      When Christmas finally came, the nearby mall put up its yearly 70 foot giant Christmas tree. At 7 o’clock every night, there would be a brief sky rocket display. The fireworks would light up the sky in brilliant lights and we would see it from our front garden.

      Again, I’d see the distressed reaction from Spot. He’d go to my room and I’d hear the desperate gouging and scratching on the floor as he’d try to dig a hole to hide in.  I remembered the game at that summer camp. Why not show to the dog that fireworks are exciting instead?

      The following night, I waited for the 7 o’clock fireworks. As the booming sounds started reverberating in the distance, I saw Spot beginning to collect his fears.  But he was in for a surprise this time. I went out into the garden and as usual, the dogs followed. At the first exploding sky rocket display, I clapped my hands in glee and began to shout, “Yehey! Wooh wooh! Wow! Look at that!”

      Bewildered, Spot looked at me and barked. I kept clapping at every sky explosion. Spot didn’t see that, of course, and faced me instead. But as Lourdes (I called her to join me) and I clapped our hands and shouted in excitement, Spot kept barking at our reaction. His fear response didn’t show one bit.

Training to Distract

      We kept this for several nights until I remembered Bobbit’s advice to distract the dog with a training session. This was how I was able to teach Spot to “Speak.”

      Soon as the nightly fireworks started to light up the sky and we’d teach the dogs to get excited at our clapping and shouting, I decided to throw in a training session to distract Spot. The dog was barking already. I have to get a hold of that behavior to make him bark upon command. One night, as the dog barked at our clapping, I turned to the dog and gave him the command,“Speak!” Bewildered, Spot looked at my hand signal and heard my command but, seeing us excited about the sky rockets, raised a bark. “Good boy!” I exclaimed, and gave the dog a biscuit.
       We'd practice this three times every night.

     

      Finally, New Year’s Eve 2011 finally arrived and the fireworks were intense. Two neighbors were showing off their stock and the explosions were so loud we decided not to peek out our gate that eve (worse, they were lighting it in front of our house because it faced the street light). 

      What was my dog doing?

      He was out with us in the living room (which opened into the garden) barking at the explosions. At least this time he wasn't hiding.  But we're not finished yet. This is still a work in progress. My dog behaviorist consultant, Fred Alimusa, said, "The dogs are barking to make it go away." There's still desensitization work to do. I'll get there one of these days. . . maybe before the next New Year.