When the Dog Trains

      Alas, the dog can be smarter. If you’re not aware, the dog can train you.

      When I was learning to train my dogs at home, I knew the reward should follow immediately after the dog’s right behavior. Praise when he does his bathroom call outdoors. Give a treat when he does a trick. Praise when he comes to you when called.

      But alas, the dog can be smarter. If you’re not aware, the dog can train YOU.

Spot Refines His Method

      Take that simple act of begging at table. At first, my dog would just sit there beside my chair during mealtimes and stare. Since I didn’t encourage begging at table (more for nutritional reasons) and my dog Spotty noticed that, he tried other tactics. He laid his chin on my lap and stared up at me. (The way Puss ‘n Boots does it in the movie, Shrek).

      That was persistence. And turning on the charm.

      That would melt my resolve. Oops….there goes a tidbit.

      To us humans, our reasons run the gamut from, “He’s so cute I couldn’t resist.” Or “This is so delicious I just want to share this with my doggy.”

      Our dogs don’t see it that way. To them, it’s -- “If I put my chin on the lap this way and look up that way, I get a reward. This works.”

      So he does it again. It brings results.

      That is, until I got smarter as I learned more about his kind.

Kirby Gets His Hug

      When we had that dog school at the park, we once had a friend whose Cocker Spaniel named Kirby was a war freak. The dog would enter the grounds with his mistress then suddenly growl and snap at the other dogs there.

      That chip-on-the-shoulder behavior would embarrass his mistress no end. Immediately, she would scoop up the dog and hug it, with the intention of controlling it from a possible dog fight.

      But that’s not how the dog reads it. Kirby thinks – “If I lunge at other dogs, my mommy hugs me. I like this.”

      So he keeps picking up a fight – and gets hugged right after.

Packy Trains the Maid

      When we had maids, training them to the right way of handling the dogs was a culture shock. They’ve grown up with dogs all their lives, they reasoned. Why must these dogs be treated that way? They couldn’t understand it.

      I had one maid named Ching fond of the dogs. Ching took it upon herself to take them out for a walk every afternoon. 

      These sessions were always a racket. Packy, our assertive little Dachshund, would scream and bark wildly in excitement when he sees Ching bring out their collars and leashes and prepare Spot first. Our dogs are walked out one at a time and he’s the 2^nd dog in the pack. His turn will follow when Spot returns. Regardless, our 3 dogs would start barking wildly when they see the preparations as the “excursion hour” arrives.

      Being used to dogs, their occasional racket was nothing new to my ears. But one afternoon, I noticed this uproar keeps repeating itself consistently. The noise is always way too wild. I stood up to watch the proceeding.

      I saw the 3 dogs compete for their turn to go out. Spot behaves since he is the more trained one and knows he is first. But when he returns and little Packy sees it, he screams wildly, challenges Spot and Toby, and the three engage in a ruckus so ear deafening the only way Ching could quiet them down would be to hurriedly leash Packy and get him out the gate – fast. When Packy is out his screaming dies down and the other dogs stop barking.

      I saw that and my brows went up. We know Ching’s thoughts -- “I have to get Packy out of here as fast as I can so this racket will die down.”

      But what were the dog’s thoughts? Packy was thinking, “I will scream and bark as loud as I can so I can go out at once!”

      Packy was getting his reward with that outrageous behavior every afternoon.

A future chip of the block: Packy as a pup.

      I took a hand in this instance. I told Ching what was going on in the dogs’ minds. Next time Packy engages in that wild noisy behavior, she should sit down and not take the dog out. Wait until the dog quiets down. Then get up and move towards the gate. The minute Packy shrieks again, sit back down. DO NOT OPEN THE GATE UNTIL THE DOG IS QUIET. When the dog is behaved, then walk him out. That is his reward.

      Of course, in real life, it’s a little – different. In real life, Packy tries to “train” us – or the new maid named Lourdes. Lourdes processes the instruction with a slight difference. Lourdes will harness and collar Packy (Packy has a thick neck and small head; he knows how to wiggle out of his collar. His Dachshund legs can slip out his body harness. Thus, Packy wears both collar and harness on a couplet leash) while the dog vents his excitement. When Lourdes leads him in front of the gate -- he stops.

      He knows that opens the gate.

      But it’s the pre-walk ritual that’s still a racket. I have to work on that next. I have to “retrain” our human trainer also.

Master Trainer Butch

      One of our earliest lessons on this canine way of thinking was with our Boxer named Butchie Boy. Butch had an exasperating habit of answering nature’s call before our front door – inside the house! When we’d catch him in the act we’d throw up our arms in horror, open the front door, and order him out.

      But one day, I noticed this has been going on too long. Butch has been growing older. He should’ve learned this a long time ago.

      I decided to watch the dog.

      One night, I saw Butchie Boy do it in full view of everybody. The usual reaction, the usual exclamations of horror, then one of the maids came, opened the front door and ordered the dog to go out.

      Eureka.

      That was his reward. Butchie Boy wanted to go out. How can he go out? He knew how: poo in front of everybody and they will open the door for him. That’s how to go out!

Toby Calculates His Moves

      The principle is simple: reward follows the good behavior. Yet there are many instances the owner is caught unaware because the dog is manipulative.

      Toby, during his housebreaking training (I adopted him when he was 1 year old), tried to outsmart me during those days. He’s learned to do his bathroom call outside but during the night when he does that and enters the house afterwards, he gets a nice crunchy biscuit. I watch him pee down the driveway from a window so when he enters the door the behavior is affirmed.

      One night, the dog tried to get more than one biscuit.

      The dog indicated he wanted to go out in the middle of the night and I let him out. From the bay window I watched him pee. I prepared his biscuit. When Toby returned to the house, I gave him the biscuit.

      Suddenly, the dog made a180-degree turn and went out the door again, the biscuit crunching noisily between his teeth. Oh, I thought. Nature’s call. He’s doing it in installment.

      Good thing I peeked out the bay window. Toby descended the front steps, swung around, and went up the house again.

      Huh?

      The dog wanted to see if he could get a second biscuit.

      I kept the biscuit jar closed.

The Price of Ignorance (Part I)

      It’s a costly mistake for not knowing anything about dogs once you have one. The price for that is regret. And guilt.

      When Spotty came into my life, my education and study about dogs and how to care for one began the day he arrived. Many pet lovers start that way. Follow that love with study and keen observation and you’ll develop into a responsible pet owner.

       It’s a costly mistake for not knowing anything about dogs once you have one. The dog depends on its owner for its health and well-being. He suffers if his owner does not know how to give it to him. The price for that is regret. And guilt.

The Doggy Playground

       I used to ransack my mind reasoning and re-reasoning, analyzing the lessons learned – and the lessons (or the wisdom?) I would’ve missed if I didn't go through those mistakes – when it came to Spotty’s first training school. Because of sheer ignorance, I didn’t make an educated choice about his trainer.

      I was a newbie pet parent for the first time. I had a lot to learn.

      Consequently, when the dog tried to communicate to me his distresses about the dog school I chose for him, I missed all the non-verbal signs. I didn’t yet know how to read the dog's signals.

      I was working in a small magazine company then in Antipolo City. One night, we were having a reunion party and I was on my way there that evening. But I had to make a stop across a certain corner to wait for a co-employee because she was hitching. I parked along a low wall across that corner and waited.

      The property behind that wall was dark and unlit. But in front, the headlights of passing cars illuminated a standing sign ahead of me. I decided to read it out of curiosity and my blood leaped. It was a dog school.

      A dog school? How does a dog school look like? I couldn’t see anything beyond the grilled locked gate. I swore to myself I will look at what’s inside that unlit property when I pass by in the daytime.

      I did pass by a few days later and I glimpsed the most beautiful sight to a dog owner’s eyes: a doggy playground. I saw hurdles, a huge truck tire, and ramps. I told myself this is what I was looking for. Spotty was a Dalmatian and when he grows older I feared I may not be able to give him the kind of exercise he needed. But in a doggy playground – he will get his workout!

      One day, when Spot grew big enough to be walked, I took him to a dog show at the Riverbanks mall in Marikina City to expose him. I remember my first entrance to the covered court. Dog trainers met me as we walked in, forking over their calling cards, asking me if my dog was trained and if it wasn’t – they can do it. I asked the price – and my hair stood on ends. That expensive?

       My mind flashed back to that doggy playground I saw a few weeks earlier. I preferred those ramps and hurdles for my dog. I turned and decided right then and there I was going to go to that dog school a few miles down the road to compare prices.

A young Spot at the dog school

      Meet the Trainer

       It was thus a fateful afternoon when I arrived at that dog school, Spotty riding in the front seat beside me. I turned my car towards that grilled gate where, just in time, a young man arrived from outside to open it and motioned for me to drive in. I drove through a dry grassy field towards a simple hut which I presumed was the office, past the doggy playground. The jumps and ramps I saw up close were made of wood with peeling paint. I presumed the huge truck tire dominating the field was a jump too. A short distance away was a kennel where dogs barked upon my arrival. They were working dogs: Shepherds, a Doberman Pinscher, and a black Labrador.

      Then I met the trainer that would change all of our lives: a tall slim guy named Jonathan. He came out of the hut flashing his most appealing smile. Do I want to train my dog, I was asked.
      Yes, I said.

(next post below)

The Price of Ignorance (Part II)

      “He’s going to a dog school,” I said, amused at the diagnosis, comparing Spot’s emotional upset to a child’s “school stress.”

      “Your dog is too young to be trained,” Jonathan, the trainer of that dog school remarked after he evaluated the pup and interviewed me. Spot was only four months old. “Bring him back when he’s six months old.”

      We talked payment schemes and Jonathan was willing to take installments. “Pay as we move along,” he said.

      That suited me comfortably. I said I will return.

A Convincing Demonstration

      It was a cool morning that first week of January of 2003 when I arrived back to Jonathan’s dog school, with Spotty now a 6-month old dog. When I first brought him to the school two months earlier, he was a small fragile thing you could sit on your lap. Now as I opened the car door and he hopped out, he stood there tall, coltish, two times larger. He was now a teenager. You couldn’t make him sit on your lap anymore.

      Jonathan met me and examined my doggy equipment. I had everything wrong. Spot needed a “training collar” not that red flat collar he was using.  His corded leash can cause rope burns in the hand. He advised me to get a choke chain and a flat leash.

      I had seen choke chains before. Eleven years earlier when we started to have Boxers, I gifted my dad with dog training lessons for his first Boxer named Alpha. A trainer named Nathan came to the house every other day to pick up Alpha and he’d take her out into the neighborhood away from my dad’s sight. After several sessions, at the end of that obedience course, he “passed the authority” to my dad by teaching him how to give the basic commands to the dog. 

      My dad didn’t fully understand that last session of instruction with Nathan, of course. Just say “Heel,” walk forward, tug the collar and say “Slowly” when the dog walks too fast? What if the dog saw a cat? Wants to poo? Another dog wants to attack it? All the more when he taught it to us. If he didn't understand what he was doing, would we be better at it? We each processed his instruction differently. Our timing and signals differed from person to person. But we used a choke chain. To me, choke chains didn’t seem to effectively control a strong muscular Boxer like Alpha and I wished that Nathan could do “follow-up” lessons with us because we had unanswered questions. But he had gone and never got in touch with us anymore.

      After a short evaluation of the equipment I used on Spot, Jonathan did what Nathan also did: with the dog in a borrowed choke chain, he walked Spot away from my sight while his wife distracted me with talk. Minutes later he returned to show me something: Spot could obey him perfectly. A command and tug at the choke chain and Spot sat. Another command and tug and Spot walked beside Jonathan obediently as they walked together in a circle. 

      I was dazzled. It took him only minutes to get that dog to obey. Jonathan grinned proudly from ear to ear as I expressed my wonderment and surprise.  Impressed, I signed Spotty up for basic lessons on obedience.

Crying Signals

      My boss in that magazine company must’ve been pleased because I was suddenly appearing for work even when I didn’t have to go there that often. The reason was because Spotty was going to school! I’d wake up early in the morning, dress and ready the dog, then we’d go to Jonathan’s dog school a good distance away through rush hour traffic to the eastern part of town.  I’d drop the dog off and proceed further to Antipolo City some twenty minutes away.  In the afternoon, I’d come pick Spotty up then we’d go home together.

      One morning, before that first week was over, I woke Spot up to prepare him for school. Spot emerged from under my dresser table (he had outgrown his puppy crate) where he had a cushion – and limped.

      Huh? I watched the dog display his limp as he crossed my bedroom towards the door. How can the dog go through his heeling lessons with his trainer if he had an injury?
      But I knew the dog didn't limp two days ago when he came home from the dog school. Neither did I notice him limp last night before he went to bed. How did he suddenly get that injury?

      I agonized for the right decision but as the morning wore on, the limp persisted. Finally I had to leave to beat the rush hour traffic. I decided not to bring him to school.

      I went out to the carport when I saw Spot and the other dogs in the driveway. We ordered them  to go inside the house. The gate was going  to be opened, my car was going to back out, and a dog might try to dash out into the street. To my surprise, Spot walked normally up the front steps. The limp had suddenly disappeared. I figured when he found out he wasn’t going to the school he suddenly got well.

      I laughed at that and compared it to a kid undergoing psychosomatic symptoms of school stress. I thought it was amusing.

      In the weeks to come, the dog exhibited other symptoms. By the second week of school, whenever the car arrived to the gate of the dog school Spot visibly trembled in his seat. But I was determined. I wanted him trained. Being in magazine production I was familiar with stress – and all the ways I’ve tried to cope with it. The next time we left for the school I popped an anti-stress vitamin capsule into the dog’s mouth. Spot slept peacefully in his seat all the way to the school and when we arrived at the gate an hour later, the dog sat up to peer out the window visibly relaxed. I thought I got that solved.

       A few weeks later again, I discovered bald patches on Spot’s coat at home. The beautiful dog was losing his hair. I blamed Jonathan for fungus. Maybe one of his dogs at the kennel was infecting my dog, I complained. I took Spot to the veterinarian and the vet diagnosed it as “stress.”

      Huh?

      “Did the dog go through any major changes the past weeks?” she asked.

      “He’s going to a dog school,” I said, amused at the diagnosis, comparing Spot’s emotional upset to a child’s “school stress.” I didn't know that time that dogs go through that too.

      The vet recommended a special shampoo, a high dose of vitamin A for a month,  plus a multivitamin capsule. I put the dog on “leave” from Jonathan’s school for a few weeks.

                                                   (next post below)

The Price of Ignorance (Part III)

      Obviously, though I loved my dog, I didn’t know enough about him and his kind.

      Some days, after dropping Spot at the dog school in the morning and before I’d proceed to my office, I would watch my dog go through his training exercises. I’d always see the same thing: a leashed Spot walking around the dry grassy field controlled by Jonathan close beside him, occasionally sitting, then walking again.

      Other days, when I’d come in the afternoon after work to pick him up, Jonathan would show me the “Long stay.” Spot would sit and stay a distance away in the field and watch us while we talked. Sometimes Jonathan would deliberately make Spot wait there while we picnicked on a rickety table having a late afternoon snack. As the darkness sets in I’d see his white face in the distance staring at us, like the face of a mime peering through the night. Once I observed the length of time. Jonathan would make Spot sit (well, he'd get into the sphinx position after awhile) and stay for an hour.

      But I was getting impatient. Two months had passed and I was still waiting for the dog to tackle those wooden jumps he had on the field. One day I complained loudly and Jonathan took on an amused air, like a teacher talking down to a lesser informed student.

      “How long did it take you to finish Grade 1?” he asked.

      “Ten months,” I replied.

      “Spot has been here only two months and you want him to graduate already?”

      I didn’t think I can ever train a dog, I thought to myself. Takes too damned long. What I didn't  know then was that I was interpreting the dog as a human being. If a human being took that long to learn, I reasoned to myself, he must be awfully stupid.

      Obviously, though I loved my dog, I didn’t know enough about him and his kind.

Home Training

      One day, Jonathan announced that he was going to make a “home visit” to see how Spot behaves at home. He arrived one late morning and met my dogs – our 2 Boxers and ten-month-old Spotty.

      Jonathan claims being appalled at what he saw. He observed that Spot behaved like a spoiled brat at home. At the school, the dog behaved like a soldier in full alert, instantly obedient. But at home, he was another dog altogether – bull-headed, overstepped his boundaries, affectionate but manipulative. The cause? We were spoiling him. We were letting him have his way and rewarding him for it.

      “Uh-uh-uh!” he exclaimed, as he saw me give a food tidbit to Spot during lunch. “Don’t feed him at table!”

      “How could I not feed him,” I protested, looking down at the soulful eyes staring at me as Spot laid his chin on my lap. “He’s asking!”

      “So you will reward his begging at table?” Jonathan demanded.

      That was the first time I was made to understand that even the dog owner needs to be trained too. Your dog may come home trained to be obedient but if his household doesn’t extend that training at home and teach him his manners, he will teach the household what he wants instead.

      Jonathan came often to the house to “train” us. All of us in the house were admonished to be firm to the dogs and not give in to their manipulative ways. We were advised to give a united front. If a dog throws a tantrum because he wants something badly – don’t give it. Give it when he’s behaved, not when he’s misbehaving.

      As Spot began to notice Jonathan’s training extending its long arm to the home, I started to see the signs of an oppressed dog. The dog trembles in the face of a raised voice, even if it is not addressed to him. When Spot hears a voice raised in admonition against another dog I see him cringe and skulk away, tail between his legs, looking for someplace to hide.

      The ultimate proof was whenever Jonathan arrives to the house. Wherever I am, as soon as Spot hears his trainer’s voice at the front door entering the living room, while the other dogs run to greet the visitor, Spot runs to me, sits facing the door and pushes backwards against my legs while listening intently to the travel of Jonathan’s voice in the house.

      Jonathan will look for him, of course, and the more he calls the harder I feel the dog’s body push against me.

      When I tell Jonathan where Spot is, only when he coaxes in a happy voice for Spot to come does the dog approach him.

( next post below)

The Biscuit Jar

       Working for a biscuit? Since their meal was not yet on schedule the wily dogs knew that if they howl they get something to eat. 

 
      My dogs, having been exposed to my dog agility sports, don't know anything else but how to jump and run. Even Packy, our assertive little Dachshund, though banned from this kind of sport because of the breed’s long spine, can do the contact equipment like the seesaw, tunnels, and dog ramp.
      They don’t know any tricks, not even the simple “Shake hands” which any layman expects a dog to know.

      But I wanted my dogs to do more than shake hands. I wanted them to sing -- to howl.
     When we were children and the church behind our house would toll their bells at dusk, our dogs would raise their necks and howl in a chorus. They would create such a racket but we would be so amused. Good thing the neighbors never complained! But this went on for several doggy “generations,” as the new batch was taught by the previous batch until the howling passed on from group to group.
     One day the bells stopped tolling and that stopped the howling. Many decades passed and the church stopped the Angelus (and Christmas eve/Easter) ritual.. So did the dogs. The newcomers ceased to “inherit” any lessons/rituals from their elders.

      Now here I am, an adult, now understanding of the canine ways. I wanted to train the dogs to howl on command.

      I used to see Jonathan slap Spot’s snout to make him yelp, then get praised for making that noise. He would explain that was how it starts. But I was learning better.

      When I was at Ocean Adventure at Subic Bay covering it as a writer for a magazine, I interviewed one of the young trainers there. When asked how they train the seals and dolphins they  said, “We watch them play then when they do something right we blow the whistle and coax them to come for their reward.”

    Huh? Easier said than done, of course. I’m sure there were many steps in-between not mentioned anymore.

      In other words, the action has to come from the dog first. You can’t make a dog howl just like that. Even with all the face slapping exercises in the world.

      One day I noticed that Packy would howl whenever the ice cream cart passed by. The cart had a tooting melody that would play every time it came down the road and Packy would howl at that.

      That was the opportunity I was waiting for. Grabbing a treat, I immediately praised the dog for his action and gave him a biscuit. Thus the concept of the biscuit jar was born.

                                                 Abuse of the Biscuit Jar

     The biscuit jar has to be immediately accessible and always filled. It cannot be in one of  the rooms upstairs in the house when Packy howls. The reward should follow immediately after the howl, not several minutes later or the meaning to the dog will be lost.

       Good thing the ice cream cart passed twice a day, so with the consistent results he was getting whenever he howled, Packy quickly learned he gets a biscuit every time he howls. Ice cream cart melody + howl = biscuit reward. 

      Soon, I tried to shift that action to my command by telling the dog to “Sing” while the cart was passing by, biscuit in hand. Packy’s eyes would look to the side where the cart was passing outside, to the biscuit, my hand signal to “sing,” then he would let loose his vocal talent.

      One day, as my hand dipped in the biscuit jar, Packy ran to the sound of the shuffling treats and looked up at me. I was anticipating this. I commanded the dog to “Sing.” Packy gathered himself together and started to howl – and no ice cream cart was passing!

      Naturally, a reward from his happy owner.

     But I was not anticipating the consequences of my action. Toby, our other Dalmatian, had been watching from the sidelines all the time noticing all this and the formula: Packy howls and Packy gets a reward.

     One day, as the ice cream cart passed and Packy ran outside to howl at the melody,  he suddenly had a backup singer: Toby. Toby ran downstairs also, then before the gate stretched his neck to the high heavens and let loose a long sky-dropping howl until you could almost see his arteries come out. After Packy finished, he ran upstairs to get his biscuit, Toby in tow. Both dogs got their reward.

    But Toby’s cue was different. His cue was Packy’s voice, not the “Sing” command. Once I tried to command Toby to sing but he kept his mouth shut, eyes at Packy. He follows only Packy.

     Soon the dogs were overdoing it. They would howl at anything with a sound that passes by: from the familiar ice cream cart to the various food vendors with their musical horns. Sometimes when the maid is out to the market and they’re sitting by the gate waiting for her, Packy would start a howl to call for her and Toby would back-up.

Packy and his back-up singer.

     We were overdoing it too. We were so amused at their antics that they’d be rewarded every time they howled – at anything. So that was our fault now.We were allowing the dogs to train us. And like doting, spoiling parents (again?) -- we were allowing it.

     One day, they just howled from out of the blue. There was no singing food cart, the maid was home, nothing was passing by. It seems their minds were following the formula -- backwards. They were hungry. Their meal was still an hour away.  But the wily dogs knew that if they howl -- they get something to eat. So they howled. 

      After their chorus, they ran inside the house towards the kitchen counter where the biscuit jar was. They got their biscuit. How manipulative!

      One day though, I saw my ultimate goal. The church, now a cathedral, revived its old bells and began to ring again. “Rapper singer” Packy lifted his voice to howl long and high, did some rapping in between, then raised his voice to higher levels. On cue, Toby followed, neck stretched to the limit, snout pointed to the heavens and howled too, his only exercise probably for that day.

      Finally when the bells slowed their earth-shaking sound, the dogs slowed down just as well, then when they stopped ran upstairs for their biscuit reward.

      They got it.

The Price of Ignorance (Part IV)

      I’d see Jonathan lose his temper, yell at the dog, and pull Spot forcibly through the poles by the neck, the dog giving a frightened squeak.

      When Spot finished his basic obedience lessons and his trainer Jonathan declared him “graduated,” I was frustrated. The past 3 months I’ve had my eye on the hurdles at the doggy playground and never once did Spot take a leap over any of them. The playground, it turned out, was for the training of protection and guard dogs.

      But I wasn’t finished with things. I had paid for something I wasn’t getting. One day, I brought a book with a photo of a mini schnauzer clearing a bar jump and showed it to Jonathan.

      “What is that dog doing? “ I demanded, pointing to the photo.

      “That’s dog agility, “Jonathan replied, recognizing it as once. “The dog goes through an obstacle course.”

      “That’s what I wanted Spotty trained for!” I almost yelled at him.

First Signs of Trouble

      So that was dog agility. It was a sport. I wanted Spot to get into that. But as I looked around the metro, the activity was non-existent. The trend of the urban dogs was conformation. I had invested time and money for my dog’s training but I knew conformation would be barred from him. Spot had no papers. He was not a purebred. His father was a pure blue-eyed Dalmatian with a magnetic presence but his mother had a mix. What can I use my dog’s training for if I can’t show him? Dog agility was the answer.

A young Spot rises over a broad jump while training at the dog school.

      Getting started was extremely difficult because we had no source to refer to except the books. I got on the internet and connected with a number of dog trainers abroad. I even ordered a video of a world championship competition of the sport held in France in 2003.

      But over all of this Jonathan lorded it over my plans because he was the trainer. I didn’t know how to train at that time.

      I’d leave Spotty at Jonathan’s school sometimes for days on end because Jonathan advised it. Some times it would be for a "refresher course." As expected, since treating dogs as a member of the family was new to us, we'd mess things along the way, confuse the dog and end up bringing Spot back to his untrained ways. A few days at the school and Spot is back obedient and manageable again. (I didn't know then the dog has always been trained -- it was the owners who were not!) 

      We bought materials for our first bar jumps, I downloaded endless drawings and photos of agility equipment, re-designed some of them to fit in the trunk of my car. . . and Spotty continued with his next batch of training this time directed towards agility.

      By that time, I was getting used to seeing the dog yanked by the neck with the choke chain. I didn’t like to see it in the beginning because it seemed to distress Spot. His neck was longer and slimmer compared to the strong muscular necks of our Boxers (who didn’t react to the tug). But I knew of no other option. Jonathan wasn’t producing any either.

      The first crossroad about this training controversy came when the dog was being taught the weave poles. It was a battle. Spotty resisted the unusual weaving motion demanded of him and would skip poles every time he was commanded to clear it. Jonathan always won, of course, because he had the choke chain – and Spotty’s neck at one end of it. It seemed the dog would never master it. Finally I’d see Jonathan lose his temper, yell at the dog, and pull Spot forcibly through the poles by the neck, the dog giving a frightened squeak.

      I didn’t like what I was seeing but I didn’t know of any other way.

      The next time Fred Alimusa, my canine behaviorist consultant was in town, I called on him. Fred  though based in Thailand at that time, was a Filipino and was the country's first in the field of canine psychology. I asked him to evaluate Spot’s performance on the weave poles – and if he can help hasten the training. Something was talking inside of me already. Something was wrong.

      I told Jonathan I had made an appointment with Fred and that we were going to assemble the weave poles on an empty field at Fort Bonifacio. Jonathan didn’t say anything. That was early in 2004.

Compulsion Training

      We met Fred that windy afternoon at a grassy field at Fort Bonifacio and after the set-up I told Jonathan to make Spot do the weave poles for Fred to see.

      Spot refused to do the poles. The dog played with the leash, laid down and rolled about, coaxed Jonathan to play with him, while Fred and I stood there waiting for the dog to do the poles. Fred stared. I was embarrassed because the dog refused to cooperate. Spot ran around in circles, inviting any of us to a game of chase.

      Finally Fred spoke up. “Your dog is doing a diversionary tactic,” he said. “He’s trying to delay you. He doesn’t want to do the weave poles.”

      It was my turn to stare. Huh?

      “What does your dog like to do?” he asked me. “You have to make the dog like what he’s doing. Does he like to chase balls? Does he like food?”

      “Food,” I said. But nobody brought food with them.

      Fred then disappeared to get something from his car – a long string of tug toys. He showed it to Spot and pulled it in a jerky manner away from him. The dog did not react.

      “Food is stronger,” I reiterated. “He used to run after balls but not anymore. He gets tired of toys fast.”

      Fred finally uttered the words that ruffled Jonathan’s proud feathers.. “Spotty was compulsion trained,” he said. “He was trained to obey because he was forced to. You must find something that the dog likes to do then integrate the agility training into it.”

      He suggested we play ball with the dog then lead the dog to a bar jump while in the middle of play. Play ball again, then another bar jump. That will make the dog associate agility with play.

      Regardless, back home Jonathan still persisted with his method. Fred’s advice involved our searching for the dog’s motivation and because Spot’s inspiration was food, Jonathan didn’t believe in food treats (they poo in the ring, he explained). Besides, from his experience, Jonathan believed compulsion training achieves faster results.

      But a new trend to dog training was slowly entering the metro. It was called Positive Reinforcement Training.

(next post below)

The Price of Ignorance (Part V)

      Hurt that dog, you hurt me.     

       In 2006, ASOco (Asong  Sanay sa Obstacle Course) emerged into the public. The acronym was my brainchild. I had it registered earlier but had nowhere to post the name so only Jonathan and I knew about it. But in 2006 the name debuted in Davao during their national trials on Sept 1. At that time, only Spotty was doing agility in the metro. The organizers had fielded the invitation to all known Manila trainers for a dog from the nation’s capital. None had a dog to send.  “Conformation is the trend in Manila” was always their reply.

      But the grapevine had far-reaching tendrils. Word of mouth somehow reached them that there was a Dalmatian doing agility in Manila. 

      That year, Spotty, the lone representative from Manila carrying the ASOco name, competed in two trials in Mindanao – Sept 1 in Davao and Sept 3 in General Santos City. Jonathan flew with the dog to Davao so I missed the Sept 1 trials because my elderly father was in the hospital. But I sneaked out of Manila on Sept 2 and flew down to General Santos City where my dog was going to compete the next day.
      But alas, I saw Spotty get disqualified. The large majority of competitors were small dogs (competitors numbered 28 in Gen San, 33 in Davao) and by the time it was the large dogs’ turn, it was early evening. Lighting in that golf driving range was poor, illuminated only from the sides by fluorescent bulbs. By the time Spot’s turn was up, I couldn’t even take pictures from a distance. The field was not lit brightly enough and the center of the field had shadows.

      From the second floor ledge of the driving range where I watched, I saw my flashy Dalmatian enter the ring and the previously bored audience suddenly sat up to watch eagerly. They had seen him earlier when Spot emerged from his kennel box to stretch his legs and his appearance caused a ripple of sensation among them. He was instantly a crowd favorite by his looks alone.

      At the signal, Jonathan and Spot started into a run and the dog performed well accompanied by the admiring squeals of fans who found his appearance incredibly attractive. He slowed at the weave poles and you could hear the murmur of remarks. They rounded the corner of the ring then Spot broke into a run and (maybe Jonathan's command being late) clambered up the yellow A-frame, totally missing the spindly bar jump beside the A-frame. It was in the dark. The dog didn’t see it, seeing the bigger A-frame first. Spot’s crowd of admirers gave out a loud sigh. Any fault disqualifies the dog because a perfect score is rated first, speed second.

      We flew home, experienced finally.  But in Manila, I worried. Spot was getting older. Manila still hadn’t caught up with the sport.

ASOco in the Industry

      That following summer, in 2007, ASOco finally appeared to be recognized in Manila as a dog school at a 27-acre park in Quezon City. All these years we’ve been like a “Batman and Robin” tandem – Jonathan and me. Jonathan was the trainer, I was the one with the ideas and the direction. We were pioneering in the metro and Spot being the city’s first dog for agility, Jonathan was receiving his share of recognition for being his trainer. 

      We were finally deep in the industry and getting known. Television news teams, feature show hosts, and magazine writers visited us. But as we started operating, I started seeing too much as I did my self study.

      Positive Reinforcement Training was the new way to handle dogs.  Many informed dog owners were becoming aware of it. But as I looked at our methods (or Jonathan’s methods) – we used compulsion training. To cover up this unpleasant manner of handling dogs in training, I insisted to Jonathan that the school's policy would be to train dog owners to handle their own dogs in the sport. Besides, since agility was teamwork, I much preferred the team be composed of the dog and his owner, not his trainer. Thus, those who wanted to learn agility but were perceptive enough not to let Jonathan handle their dog were able to protect their pet from the trauma of rough handling.

Dog on the right looks with frightened eyes as a fellow dog mate is yanked at the neck for misbehavior, part of the method of compulsion training.

      But Spot was not protected by me. During fun matches which we were a part of throughout that year, when I’d study the photos afterward I’d see a fearful dog. I’d see a dog follow his handler tail between his legs. When he runs in the ring he sulks. The dog clearly was not happy. He was just obeying. His heart was not in it. True to Jonathan’s means of achieving the end results the shortest time possible, Spot's performance was always excellent. But his face was not stoic; it told a thousand unhappy stories. 

Spot stands beside his trainer at a fun match, tail between his legs.

       Finally, one afternoon I had a visitor at the school. We were engaged in animated conversation when I saw Jonathan take Spot for a run around the agility playground. He had just finished an argument with his wife who had come to visit him. Jonathan looked livid. As he ran with Spot around the course to let off steam, he yanked the dog’s neck angrily every time the dog missed a step. All the more the dog kept making mistakes. Finally when they reached the weave poles Spot blundered. Jonathan pulled the choke chain so tight the dog’s hind legs folded under him in fear and trembling. He whimpered as if begging for his life. Jonathan stared down at him, eyes blazing and brows burning in the center, one fist clenched on the choke chain as if ready to kill.

      Again and again, I saw it happen. Whenever the dog made a mistake Jonathan dragged Spot to where he wanted him to go, the dog on trembling legs, giving tiny squeaks of terror, his neck yanked high

      I was in a spot. I was with a guest whose back was turned at what was going on but I couldn’t let him see the downside of Jonathan’s method of training. It will reflect on the entire school. We were at the topic about he and his Golden Retriever enrolling for lessons. But as I saw the scene over his shoulder and struggled to keep my composure,  something inside burned fiercely. This will be the last time I will let Jonathan train Spot. Jonathan is BANNED from handling Spot.

      In the end, my friend didn’t enroll. He was wise.

      We had a group picture afterwards and Spot sat there beside his trainer on the pause table his body sitting obediently but his eyes were distressed and away from Jonathan. That face finally hit home. I had seen what he had gone through earlier. That dog was the closet thing to my heart. Hurt that dog, you hurt me.      

The Forked Road

      Jonathan and I (finally ) parted ways 2008 after a sports summit that December of 2007. That December match was a landmark event. It was Manila's first. Excited participants from Bacolod, Zamboanga and Davao flew in with their dogs to join. This was held at the park.

      I saw a glaring difference there, between Spotty and the veteran dogs from the south. As I analyzed the photos afterwards, the dogs from the south had excitement written all over their faces as they ran the course, climbed the A-frame, scampered up the ramps, jumped the hurdles, and hopped around the weave poles. They were having the time of their lives, agility was the ultimate fun. Since I’ve never run with Spot in this sport, I had to let Jonathan handle him in this event. But Spotty, though he didn’t snag any bar or miss any obstacle, was a sulking face throughout the run. 

Spot climbs the seesaw with a long face.

      In one video, I saw Jonathan yell at Spot before he was about to enter the weave poles. The dog paused, whites of his eyes showing fear from the tone of his voice, then entered carefully. He cleared it perfectly regardless.

      I sat down to a meeting with Jonathan a few days after that sports summit to evaluate with him the results. Jonathan refused to accept the differences I pointed out. When I suggested he go to Davao to “re-train” to understand the proper methods of training for agility, Jonathan said the crucial words which made me decide instantly. He said, “There is nothing those young trainers can teach me that I do not already know.”

      My mind suddenly saw a door swing wide open. This was the time I had been waiting for. Seize it!
      I said simply, “Okay. You go your way I go mine. I’m packing up ASOco from here.”

(Conclusion below)

The Price of Ignorance (Part VI)

      Like any parent (pet or human) we must learn to read the signs those we put under our care try to tell us.

      ASOco hibernated for 3 years after I packed up the school. Outwardly, my reason was because a day-to-day operation wasn’t productive. Business was dead on weekdays and became alive only on weekends. I expressed wanting to look for a more dynamic place. Meanwhile, our area at that park would be vacant and Jonathan didn’t want to let go of it. I knew he faced a crossroad too but I knew what I wanted: to get out of there. So I left Jonathan to start his own at the same place which ASOco would vacate.

      Those 3 years was a time for evaluation and redefinition. I finally got rid of Spotty’s Trainer from Hell. But the dog kept his scars up to this very day.

      I used to play back that afternoon I saw Jonathan terrorize Spotty on the agility playground and asked myself a hundred times why I had been so blind. If he could do that, then what had he done to my dog when he was a puppy and I would leave him at his dog school many years ago?

      The thought made me cringe.

      Spot had tried to tell me. But I couldn’t read his signals. I prolonged his terror for 6 long years.

      Like any parent (pet or human) we must learn to read the signs those we put under our care try to tell us. Or else we will have regret – and guilt – to live down when our blind eyes open.

      Jonathan eventually moved away from the park, got a job as a dog trainer in the army and continued giving private lessons on the side. But if I know him, he has probably adopted the new methods for training now. It is what everybody talks about in the industry nowadays. But you cannot tell Jonathan what to do. He will do it at his own time, in his own way. Since Jonathan is a lazy reader, he will never be learned enough. He will always miss a lot of facts. He’s keenly perceptive and boasts of having a wealth of experience since his childhood when that fondness for dogs emerged but there’s something still superior to educated learning even if only self-study.

ASOco Returns

      ASOco returned to that same park in 2010 upon the invitation of a Mondio Ring Club also based there. But we set up only on weekends like the Mondio group – the vision I had for ASOco since the very beginning. I had envisioned ASOco only as a weekend club. That day-to-day operation we did in 2007 was very tedious and not worth the effort.

      With Jonathan not around anymore, I saw myself return to the vow I made when I acquired Spot in 2002 – that I will take care of him my way (see "No More Fright Nights"). I “re-program” Spotty every weekend at the park now by re-introducing him to dog agility but this time by making him see that when it’s with me, it’s fun, treats, and good bonding memories.

      Every weekend when we meet with other dog owners at the training area, everybody comes armed with treats – from dried liver, jerkies, denta bites, hotdogs, cheese to sliced barbecue. During Jonathan’s time, he disapproved of food treats. “It makes the dog poo,” he complained, when we were once at a mall watching a dog show. I saw bored pet owners at the sidelines hand treats to their dogs for want of nothing else to do. As a result I saw mall janitors busy constantly sweeping and mopping dog poop and urine. Jonathan was right in that regard.

      But treats have a place in training, especially with the new trend now of Positive Reinforcement and Behavior Modification of animals.

Better the Second Time Around

      The pet owners who come to the training area at the park are all educated and responsible. It is refreshing to share tips and information with each other. We share and compare. We help, teach, and encourage one another.

      After several weeks of Spot’s exposure to Positive Reinforcement training, I made him do a Sit Stay before the beginning bar jump before we did a run. In the past, the dog always sat sideways, a nonverbal indication that he never enjoyed this activity. But this time, I saw Spot face the bar jump (expectant of his cheese or jerky, of course). At last! I give him one jerky before he runs and another jerky when he finishes. You should see him when he’s nearing the end. The dog bolts into a run and clears the last bar jump excitedly because he knows his favorite jerky awaits him there.

      You’ll feel like you’re training a seal at Sea World when you’re working with treats but that’s how you reinforce the good behavior. We start beginners to give their dog a treat after every jump at the lowest bar level. When the dog gets used to it, in succeeding visits the treat follows after every two jumps. In time it’s less and less rewards until the dog will run the full course and get his reward in the end because he knows it’s there.

      Regrets have a driving force. It has taught me to read up, study, and learn as much as I can about how to deal with the canine specie because now they live with us and we interact with them everyday. But with knowledge comes the ability to change things and for Spot, his terrors are over.

Spot "de-programmed." (Photo from shakydoo)

      “To err is human. To forgive, canine.”

                                                           - A Dog’s Life by Peter Mayle, Vintage Books, 199

How to Keep the Dog -- and the House

    Don’t children make as much mess too? You don’t throw them out do you?    

    When you have a dog (or dogs) in the house, it’s like having children living with you. Your house has to make adjustments for the presence of these little ones. Can you maintain a house with minimal maintenance even with the presence of your canine pack members?

Canine Interior Decoration

     One of the first things we folded away soon as these furkids started to live with us was the carpet. Another was the fabric upholstered sofa.

     Years ago, when we used to have Boxers, I remember walking to the kitchen in the middle of the night only to halt midway in my tracks when I saw the cutest – yet most horrifying – sight I will never forget.  I saw four comfy Boxers in the dark lined up side by side on our sofa, heads in a row, taking a snooze. The hairs, the doggy smells! I drove them to their feet.

     You need not complain that your house will be “bare” once you let your pets in. We haven’t sacrificed aesthetics because of these doggy members of the house. Our furniture is wooden and antique. Seats are cane rush but piled with colorful throw pillows (when one of the dogs was still young we stored the pillows up on a shelf at night) . Instead of small elegant antiques or other accessories scattered around the house, expensive but breakable and inviting to canine teeth, we work with plants, decor given by friends, and distracting color in big ways  The living room walls are avocado green with white trim. The dining room is mango yellow. Great background for the drabby antique furniture. The kitchen is strawberry red with light beige countertops.

     We don’t have a sofa. Nobody misses it anyway.

     Style accessories are large and definitely un-breakable (or unreachable): antique carved wooden boxes, a 1950s army chest, antique lamps set far from doggy reach, hardbound books, a huge Amorsolo style painting, two eight-bulb cut glass chandeliers, and tall palms in big pots. We play with lighting when there are guests. Most furniture surfaces are bare to show sheen, sometimes there are small lace doilies to protect the finish; we don’t use long cloths that hang over the edge. We don't use a tablecloth either (hairs collect under the fabric that hangs over the table).  Floors are varnished and easily kept shiny. I used to get upset with those canine scratches but hey, isn’t the distressed look in?

     Floor scratches, the chewed foot of a wooden shell divider or the deep gouges on the front door from constant scratching – these are what give the house character and its lived-in look.

     Unique to our doggy household is the “biscuit jar.” If they were kids it would be the cookie jar but since they’re dogs – it’s the biscuit jar. The contents of this is a permanent fixture of our monthly grocery list. We buy cheap crunchy biscuits and store them there – as reward for any good behavior the dogs may exhibit. (The reward treats have to be immediately accessible, thus the jar is part of the interior decor).

     And oh yes, when we had our kitchen remodeled, I designed a doggy gate. It’s a low swing door to keep the pooches from lounging in the kitchen. 

Spot waits for meal call before the kitchen.

The House? Or the Dog?

     Of course you can keep both. You just have to make way for their existence. Don’t children make as much mess too? You don’t throw them out do you?  

     We used to battle doggy odors in the house because of these pooches.  During the rainy season when they want to go out for bathroom call, they end up doing it inside the house instead. Then we had a carport constructed near the front door so when it’s raining and one of the dogs feel the bathroom call, he can go to the carport (he has no other choice) and do it there and not get wet in the rain.

     Bleaches may smell clean and antiseptic but it’s not strong enough to mask a dog’s urine smell. He can still detect where he last sprinkled. The enzymatic cleaners work best if you can find one and for awhile I bought mine from a private individual who made her formulas in her kitchen. One squirt and like a miracle, the doggy residual smell vaporizes. Some doggy companies have cleansers that work just as well. We use a particular one that leaves behind a minty smell. Once I even tried mouthwash!
      A friend of mine introduced me to peroxide. She keeps two terriers inside the house, one housebroken the other not quite. The latter wears pet diapers. In case the former pees around the house, it's a quick swipe of the rag and a follow-up of hydrogen peroxide with its bubbling hissing sound which removes all traces including the smell.

     Dog hairs are your next challenge so we have a rule in the house never to allow dogs to sleep on the beds. Our dogs have their own beds – those plastic canine baskets which we line with polyester fiber filled pillows so the whole thing is washable. You can’t avoid dog hairs – just limit their appearance from more surfaces than you can afford.

A doggy basket.

     We live in a fenced-in property and our dogs being Dalmatians, we never cage or chain them up. During the day we keep the front door open so the dogs can freely run in and out. Twice a day, they have their exercise out in the neighborhood, our househelp armed with plastic bags or paper sheets to scoop up their droppings.  At night, it’s a bathroom trip for everybody before the front door is finally closed. But they’ve learned to wake any of us in case they still feel the urge.

     Other times, we read the signals. A dog sitting or standing by the closed front door for a long time and staring at you is signaling a desire to step out.  

     Finally, one of the biggest reasons why a dog is thrown out the house are the fleas. Invest in a superior brand of anti-flea treatment because it is worth your money. When I was new to caring for dogs, spending big bucks for an anti-flea product was preposterous -- until we started scratching inside the house, getting red marks on our skin, and finding fleas crawling on the walls. Would you let guests in your house experience that too? I forked out the money.
       If you will find the occasional stray flea in your dog's ear or between his toes, we have another strange item we keep around the house: a small bottle (actually 2) of alcohol where we drop the unfortunate mite into. They are usually found in some convenient place like among the bookshelves or in some centrally located spot like the telephone. Do not crush fleas with your nails -- no matter how tempted you are to do it! Fleas carry toxins and diseases. You're better off just letting it die in one piece than crushing it to death and its blood spread everywhere from your fingernails to the doorknobs and the ballpens your children put in their mouths.  Tweezers do a cleaner job of picking up the entire flea or tick rather than your fingers which can harbor germs underneath the nail.  
      Finally the flea infestation was solved --  we finally had a clean house and nobody was scratching especially the dogs. Fleas, odors, hairs finally under control.
       From then on, we’ve kept both – the house and the dogs.

The decor in this book shelf were gifts -- except for the books, part of a collection on dogs.

   

Spot in his doggy basket.

A former fountain now a dish garden.

Our Dachshund during the house repainting.

Our "Green Room" after the repainting.

Settling in The New Pack Member

     Housebreaking is tedious work in the beginning. You’re always watching the dog, your eye on the clock.

      I think the hardest part of dog training is housebreaking. What makes it worse – the overwhelming suggestions from the books on what to do! The suggestions range from newspapers (and there are numerous methods) to flat trays with sand or woodshavings – and everything else in between. I realize now the suggestions depend upon your situation. Are you living in a high rise? A townhouse? A house with a garden?  Pick the one that applies to you.

      When we had Boxers, we used newspapers but it stank the house to the high heavens when we woke up in the morning.  But since we lived in a house with a big yard, when Spot came around my decision in the end was simply to put the dog out.

      The books say that a pup takes a leak every 4 hours. I’d put Spot outdoors every 4 hours. In the beginning, the bewildered pup would stand there wondering about his sudden displacement from inside the house. I’d stand there and wait too. But it doesn’t take long. It’s been 4 hours. His body clock is going to do it. Soon the pup will take a leak or finally squat. Enthusiastic praise afterwards.

     In the evening before Spot beds down in his crate at  8pm there’s a bathroom trip outdoors first. By 12 midnight, I’d wake him up for another bathroom visit. In the early morning at  4am, I’d get up to put him out again. During the day, I’d take him to his bathroom spot outdoors after meals, after a nap, and after play. After every nature call, he’d receive an enthusiastic praise.

     In time the dog got it. Trip outside + nature call = happy praise. It’s a thrill to see the dog squat within minutes of your having put him in the spot where he’s supposed to answer nature’s call. That's a training success.
      But housebreaking is tedious work in the beginning. You’re always watching the dog, your eye on the clock. It is a game of “pre-empting” what he’s going to do – before he does it. 

      Meanwhile, Spotty was having problems with our 3-year-old Boxer named Butchie Boy. Butch would not accept him and would avoid Spot like the plague. Whenever Spot would playfully pounce on the Boxer for a game of chase, Butch would bolt upright as if electrocuted and evade him, his hind legs kicking away as if the Dalmatian newcomer had an infectious disease. There was no aggression. But the Boxer obviously seemed to find the pup repulsive.

      I searched the internet for hours looking for advice on this particular situation but I couldn’t find the answer. It took time until I met a canine behaviorist named Fred Alimusa in person. “Walk the two dogs out together,” Fred advised. “Let the Boxer see that the Dalmatian is a friend; that they’re out together as a pack.”

      Our two dogs were being walked out one at a time daily by a male household help. The next day, as he prepared to walk the dogs out, I announced I will join him by walking Spot out too. We leashed the Boxer and the pup separately and we walked out into the street together.

      The little dog was clearly in heaven. As he walked along the road, Spot kept casting ecstatic glances up at me and his Boxer packmate. Butch, typical of Boxers, remained aloof to the happy antics of his little spotted companion.

      We kept this practice up until I could see if Fred's advice given me will work. It worked. After a week, I saw both dogs lying together. Butchie Boy had finally accepted Spotty. They were finally friends and playmates as the days went on.