We are taught that whether we did something unfavorable or inappropriate or bad, we shoould own up to it, that doing so is a sign of a responsible individual who recognizes his/her mistake and therefore can ensure not to repeat it in the future. Yet when it comes to the treatment, care, and training of our pets, why do we find ourselves more often than not blaming a 'lack of choice' for the bad decision, approach or outcome?

Suzanne Clothier, a world renowned animal trainer, behavior specialist, and author shares her experience and outlook on the subject in her article titled "I Had To..."

There are a few phrases that really push my buttons. When talking to trainers, the one that will always get a reaction from me is this explanation for why the trainer used a specific technique or piece of equipment: "I had to."
 
When pushed to explain further why they "had to" it very often turns out there were other options available, but the choice was made to use that technique or equipment for reasons such as "Well, the class was nearly over" or "the client was frustrated" or "I had tried everything else" (really?), and so much more that has nothing to do with a careful analysis of the dog, the behavior, the situation or training methodology. Worse still, the trainer often attempts to rationalize it as if the animal left the trainer no other options.
 
This has always bugged me, and reminded me of something else but couldn't quite put my finger on it till I was reading a novel recently. The wife abusing husband justifies his behavior by telling his wife that she had actually caused him to beat her because she hadn't been [fill in the blank - attentive enough? quick enough? pretty enough? etc].
 
There are situations in which the use of force to defend yourself or defend another being is justifiable. Our criminal law allows for this, and yet also places a burden on us to utilize any other options available to us before we use force. It would be good for dog trainers to also be held accountable for their use of aversion and force in this way. I wonder what would change if trainers had to build a case for their actions, including specifics of what other options had been considered, employed and discontinued or discarded before even trying them.
 
The most common example is the "positive" trainer who nonetheless shows up with a prong collar on their excitable dog. Watching the dog tow them into the seminar, I see that they are contributors to the process. After all, it takes two to tango, and two to pull. Dogs never ever pull off leash. But as the trainer stands with taut leash and a dog who is connected to them only by equipment, I consistently hear, "Well, I don't really like to use this collar, but he's so excitable, I just had to use it." What's left on the table as other solutions to the pulling dog doesn't get mentioned: positive reinforcement, consistency in expectation for on-leash behavior, actual training for on-leash manners, appropriate handling of the lead to eliminate the handler's pulling, teaching self control, etc.
 
Whenever I use force, I do three things:

• Be as aware as I can be that I have used force 

          I actually articulate to myself that I am using force (inner dialogue), and make a mental note to review this in depth. As soon as    
           it is appropriate to do so, I then---

• Ask myself why this use of force was necessary 

          Sometimes, it is purely defensive or the only solution in that specific moment where I was taken off guard or the animal did  
          something completely unexpected and potentially very dangerous to themselves. to me or to others nearby. Sometimes, I'm
          just a jerk with low levels of patience and have lost my sense of fairness. Either way, I have to hold myself accountable. I hold
          this proverb close to my heart: "Where knowledge ends, violence begins." 

• Ask myself how I got into this situation 

        Did I push the animal too far? ignore warning signs, violate the animal's need for safety, override a threshold? Did I put the
        animal in a situation where their understanding and/or skills were insufficient for them to handle that situation? Had I ignored
        prior behavior which clearly indicated this situation was likely to happen or repeat the past? Whatever the answer, the solution is
        to recognize where I went wrong. Not the animal. Animals who feel safe, who are under their thresholds, who are not sending
        warning signals, who know how to be cooperative and whose skills and knowledge allow them to cope with the situation -- well,
        strangely enough, these animals just don't seem to force anyone to use force. Odd...
 
I am the prosecutor, the defense attorney, the judge & the jury all in one in my role as a trainer, and I am also the defendant on trial for my decisions. Kind of a Paw & Order thing, because sometimes there are also detectives involved who round up all kinds of evidence that will be brought to bear.

If I've ignored past behavior, which would have predicted the animal's response, then the prosecuting attorney asks quite firmly, "Why did you choose to disregard prior knowledge?" My defense attorney doesn't have much to say.
If I've ignored warning signals, sometimes my defense attorney can make a good case for simple incompetence, that I just was not sufficiently familiar with this particular animal to correctly read that individual's signals. Having learned my lesson and apologized profusely, I am released (on probation!) as all involved are sure that I won't make that mistake again.
 
Mistakes made from judgment calls gone awry are usually forgivable offenses, provided I'm not brought up again on the same error. All past offenses may be brought to bear; no protection from having a sealed record, no prayer of having the record expunged. I think it's a good thing for a trainer to remain honest about their mistakes past and present. Keeps me honest.
 
Replacing the phrase "I had to. . ." with "I CHOSE to. . ." puts the responsibility where it belongs: on the trainer who made the choice to use techniques or equipment. It helps us all remember that in making that choice, by definition we excluded other possibilities. When using force, we need to be very clear that in discarding other options, other possible solutions, we may also be choosing to limit what is possible when we push ourselves.
 
Many years ago, while attempting to demonstrate some no-pulling techniques in a seminar, I was utterly exasperated by a young Labrador. Clancy had leaped up and head punched me very hard not once but twice, making me see stars and really hurting my nose. Clancy was not malicious or intending harm, he was just an exuberant adolescent who had been taught that leaping around was acceptable. Not being physically sensitive himself, doubtful it dawned on the dog that a head butt was very painful to a human. I had been patient, kind, vaguely successful but by the second slam to my face, my patience began to shred. I began to think, "One good correction might get through this dog's thick skull." I surprised myself by thinking that, but then I further shocked myself (and some of the audience) when I asked the handler explicitly for permission to use a physical correction on her dog. She agreed, trusting me as a trainer to do right by her dog.
 
In that moment when she trustingly agreed to let me use force on her dog, I found something in myself that surprised me further: a little voice that challenged me to push myself further, to help this dog without force. It was like having a gauntlet thrown down at my feet. Do it without force, without ego, without justifying force.
 
Internal challenge simmering in my mind, I decided to see how far I could go before I chose to use force. I was very clear in my mind that using force was a choice I would make, not something I was forced to do. I persevered, patiently applying the techniques I've used with countless dogs, a positive approach that does not involve pain or aversion and seeks to engage the dog's mind, not control his body. I never did use force on Clancy; and I was successful in helping him find a new way of walking on leash. His response was nothing more than a lack of knowledge and skills. How on earth could I justify using force on a dog whose only crime was not knowing how to be right?
 
Very few in that audience would have blamed me if I had chosen to use force. They had all witnessed how hard I'd been hit in the face by the dog's head. They had all seen how much time I'd already devoted to trying to do things positively, and most would have given up long before I did, as if there is a certain amount of time to be spent trying and then all hope is lost and it's okay to use force.
 
This particularly makes me very sad because getting trainers to learn what real patience means is something I strive to do in my work -- so I nearly sent the wrong message by almost going down the "I had to. . ." road. In fact, more time, more patience and thin slices did the trick, as it almost always does. My inner voice held me accountable, helped me find more patience and fresh eyes for what this dog needed to succeed.
 
I think about that dog, Clancy, a great deal. I have carried him for years in my heart and will continue to do so. I will keep seeing his owner's trust in my judgment as a trainer, will keep seeing Clancy's bright, trusting eyes.

That inner voice that holds me accountable is one that challenges me to find new ways always to keep the light in those eyes, in all the eyes that turn towards me. It is my job to not betray the trust. I hold myself accountable for what I choose to do, and that is never explained away by the phrase, "I had to. . ."


Suzanne Clothier has been working with animals professionally since 1977. She is well respected for her holistic Relationship Centered Training™ approach to dogs and the people that love them. She has taught in the US, Canada, Belgium, Holland, Italy, Japan, Australia and New Zealand for groups as varied as Wolf Park, NADOI, Association of Pet Dog Trainers, FEMA (Northeast Region Disaster Dog Teams), Alaskan Dog Musher Association, Chicago Anti-Cruelty Society, AKC Obedience judges, many national specialties, and numerous obedience, agility, breed, rescue, shelter and SAR groups.
Her book, Bones Would Rain from the Sky: Deepening Our Relationships With Dogs has received wide spread praise from every corner of the dog world, including twice being included in the Wall Street Journal's list of Top 5 Dog Books. 
A German Shepherd breeder, her 8 generations of Hawks Hunt German Shepherds have been successful in obedience, agility, SAR, tracking, herding and therapy work; she is also the co-breeder of a National Specialty BOB Brittany. She lives on a working farm in upstate New York with husband John Rice, and their considerable animal family of dogs, cats, parrots, tortoises, Scottish Highland cattle, horses, donkeys, pigs and more.
 

For one thing, Unless you can read a dog's mind, you have no knowledge or control over the associations they form during the application of aversives.

Secondly, the association you are forming is one of unpleasantness. This works great if you're talking about punishing for raiding the trash (trash can = bad) but when the object the association is being paired with is a human or animal, what kind of an association do you think your dog is forming?

As with the trash can example, it would be: Human & Dog = Bad. Sure he may stop barking or growling or lunging but those are mere "expressions" of the dog's internal state. Take away the expression, has the internal state changed? 
If a dog who has previously reacted aggressively suddenly stops barking & lunging, does that mean he is no longer aggressive?
Would you then trust that dog to go out into public among people & other dogs?  

My answer to that is:  You can hate someone without lashing out at them; that is, you can hate someone without openly "expressing" your emotions about or toward him.

For example, growing up, most kids my age were told to act "nice" around their parents' friends' kids, regardless of whether we like one another or not. So when the parents were around, we'd all act like angels toward each other, but when they weren't...

When NOT under the control of the parents - just like when a dog is not wearing the e-collar - the kids' negative feelings would come out, because, being forced to hold back or suppress one's "expressions" of dislike toward another - which manifests itself in the form of bark &/or growl in dogs - it does not change the fact that that individual still dislikes the person (or dog) in question, same as before.

In my friend's case, she went from disliking to hating the other kid because she was continuously forced to go with her parents to their house & be in that girl's company. The continued exposure  made her more & more unhappy & stressed, and she became very angry & hostile when she so much as heard the other girl's name being mentioned. Not to mention her resentment toward her parents who let her down by not taking her objections & unhappiness into account because "they" wanted to be there. So much for trusting them to provide a solution.

So let's go back to our dogs. You have a dog that is socially unskilled & therefore nervous. You, would good intentions, want him to go places with you thinking it'll be fun. But all he does is hide under the table & growl &/or snap any time a person tries to come near or pet him (remember my friend being forced to go to the kid's house she didn't like?). Instead of acknowledging that your dog is not happy being in that setting, in fact he's actually disturbed by it, you choose to get mad & jerk on his prong collar for growling & snapping. After all, you did him a favor by taking him out to a dog-friendly place.

BUT did you ask your dog if he wanted to be there? No. So, how is that fair to him? How do you justify your aggressive reaction to his unhappiness & inability to tolerate the pressure?

We humans are verbal creatures; so no wonder we rely on verbal commands to communicate with our dogs. Dogs however, are visual learners. While this distinction could put humans and dogs at odds with one another, fortunately science has found that the average dog has the language understanding of about a 2-year-old child. To put it in a human perspective, the average dog can learn 165 words. An intelligent dog can learn 250 words, and the very smartest dogs may be capable of much more. Such an example is Chaser, the border collie whose owner, John W. Pilley, Professor Emeritus Wofford College, taught him to identify more than 1,000 words. It is that outstanding ability of canines that enables our species to communicate so well with one another.
 
So what do researchers mean by “intelligence”? According to neuropsychologist Stanley Coren, Ph.D., author of Born to Bark, there are three major types of dog smarts: instinctive intelligence (what a dog is bred for), adaptive intelligence (what a dog can learn by itself), and working and obedience intelligence (what people can teach a dog to do).  Other factors to consider is the level to which your dog is trainable, social, and able to understand human gestures and words. 
 
Often we expect our dogs to either perform or stop performing behaviors that go against their instinctive intelligence. As a result, we have trouble teaching the behaviors ‘we’ want them to perform (i.e. teaching a terrier to fetch) and preventing the ones we don’t want them to perform (i.e. stopping a terrier from digging). Often this leads us to label our dogs as defiant or dumb. If, on the other hand, we were trying to teach a terrier to find a hidden toy in a sand pit, the rate of acquisition by the dog, the ease of teaching the task on hand, and the precision with which the dog performed the behavior would be so seamless that it would make the dog appear to be a genius and the handler a phenomenal trainer.
 
Researchers at the London School of Economics and Political Science and the University of Edinburgh devised an I.Q. test that they tested on sixty-eight working border collies. The dogs were tested on navigation (timing them on how long it took the dogs to get food that was behind different types of barriers); their ability to follow a human pointing gesture to an object; and whether they could tell the difference between quantities of food.
 
The results, as published in the journal Intelligence, stated that the dogs that did well on one test, performed better on the other tests as well, and those dogs that accomplished the tasks faster also showed more accuracy. Like with humans, dog intelligence comes in many forms, so it's hard to say whether one breed is really "smarter" than another, but border collies are considered one of the smartest breeds when it comes to training and obedience.
 
Is it true that dogs will weigh the value of doing something - Is it worth it?  Sure! But more often than not the rate of performance, or lack thereof, is not due to the dog’s defiance or stupidity but rather his uncertainty about what’s being asked (either the dog hasn’t learned the command word or the behavior itself well enough to perform on command); how it’s being asked (handler is not using clear, known hand or verbal signals); where it’s being asked (the location or circumstance doesn’t match the environment in which the behavior was learned), and/or when it’s being asked (the dog has not been trained to perform in a state of high arousal or under pressure).
 
Hesitation on the behalf of the dog is an indication of uncertainty, just like when we humans hesitate to cut into traffic - we are unsure about the speed of the approaching car, the amount of time we have to jump into the gap, and whether the acceleration speed of our car will be appropriate to get us in and moving at the speed of traffic. And yet we drive on a daily basis and get plenty of real-life practice. Even so, the change in the pace of traffic on a given day, the difference in location and your current state of mind (anxious about the presentation you’re going to give at work) all affect our ability to process and perform what is a known task.
 
So the next time your dog takes a while to perform a behavior, don’t automatically assume he’s being defiant or question his intelligence, but rather consider the individual and environmental factors that may be involved. Keep in mind that with consistent, goal-oriented and appropriate training, your dog can learn to make decisions quicker and put forth a better performance displaying their true level of intelligence.
 
 
 
 

The bond between a dog owner and his canine can be a very strong one. Forming such a bond requires a genuine sense of care, affection, responsibility, and, above all, the demonstration of trust and respect.
 
This mutual trust and respect is also crucial to effective dog training. That is why “positive reinforcement” training is the preferred methodology of trainers and veterinary behaviorists of today. Positive reinforcement offers longer-lasting results compared to positive punishment, and it does so by maintaining the owner-dog bond. There is not an owner in this world that would not benefit from learning how to train his/her dog with the consistency and nurturing discipline of a positive approach.
 
Discipline is most effective when the dog owner maintains the bond and trust in instilling long-term habits. Just like us humans, dogs learn more effectively when they feel secure and comfortable. Consistent, positive bonding helps our dogs thrive and learn with maximum results, leading to a happy canine and a happy human.
 
The animal-human bond can be seen in artworks throughout history. More recently, up for viewing are commissioned artworks in oil and pencil by artist Roger Henry, on exhibit at Dog and Horse Fine Art and Portraiture at 102 Church Street in downtown Charleston. The exhibit runs through November 1. 
 
Henry is an international portrait artist living in Los Angeles, specializing in canines, equines, and humans. I found Henry’s work to be compelling, not just because of his subject matter, but also because of his attention to detail and the realism with which he portrays the emotions of his subjects at that instance.  Details in Henry’s work reveal the personality traits of both the animal and owner and illustrate the mutual care and affection shared in the relationship. Henry says that he prefers to paint dogs the most, not surprisingly, because as the artist, he cannot help but form an affectionate bond with his canine subjects.
 
The art gallery features paintings and drawings of canines, felines, and equines by other notable artists, such as Beth Carlson, Lese Corrigan, and David McEwen, as well as spectacular bronze works. Visit Dog and Horse Fine Art and Portraiture and share in the joy of the artists bonding with their subjects.