An easy, effective and fun game to play that can turn a dog's "oh no" into "Oh Good!". One of my favorite games for dogs who are fearful of sounds and objects.
by Sarah Wilson
Recently, I encountered four situations when I picked up the small dog I had with me. I thought sharing my reasons might be helpful, so here are the events and my thoughts:
1) Narrow Trail with Steep Drop Offs + Young Puppy + Family of Five on their Bikes
Human beings want to see our loved ones feeling loved; and, according to Relational Theory, this is especially true for women. For us, it is great to love but it is not a complete act until we see the other feeling the love we are sharing.
With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.
HoHoHo can turn into NoNoNO! when you have a puppy in your holiday home. Here are the top five tips to help you end the holidays feeling loving toward your puppy (and yourself):
1. Get the Lead Out
Bilbo watched me expectantly, his stub tail wagging, as I put the kettle on, took a mug out of the cupboard, and rustled in the tea cabinet. He knew what that meant: time for afternoon tea.
Seemingly ever popular, these tools are by far the most dangerous dog tool I know. After more than 25 years as a dog-care professional, I know multiple dogs who have died and multiple people who have ended up in the ER while using this sort of leash.
“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” ― Albert Einstein
"He is so neurotic!" the frustrated Border Collie pet person exclaims.
"What do you mean?" I inquire.
The holiday season is fast approaching, and many of us will soon be enjoying (or not) family, friends, and multiple activities. Along with this will come vacation time, new toys for young and old, as well as both visiting and visitors.
When dogs come to me for a stay, people often ask with concern, “Do you think she’ll remember me?”
The answer is unequivocally YES! Even young pups, as long as they have been in your home for a few weeks, will remember you for the rest of their lives.
For many years, as a pro dog trainer, I have observed that people seemed to, rather miraculously, get dogs who offer opportunity for growth in some key way. Certainly has been true in my life. I chalked this recurring pattern up to "fate," "karma," or "the universe" being at work.
One of the things the Parelli's talk about is making sure you put your principles before your purpose.
It made no sense.
This high-wire, intense dog was doing great in his training. He worked crisply and immediately, he worked eagerly and with an open mouth and yet... he was falling apart. Seemed when the stay got better, the crate behavior got worse; when the crate behavior got better, the door behavior fell apart.
Economic times are hard. Your local shelter may be fighting just to stay afloat. A recent annual fund raiser for a terrific local facility raised half the amount raised last year, while dealing with a flood of animals homeless as a result of economic realities.
Being a dog pro is an extraordinary profession. We get a chance to change people's lives in ways both obvious and, sometimes, less than obvious ways.
As I quietly set up my computer last weekend for the closing presentation at the Canadian Association of Professional Pet Dog Trainers' conference, a woman walked up to me with a smile on her face.
I scanned the numbers on the buildings along East 86th Street in Manhattan looking for 325. There was 315 but I could not see 325. Odd, the directions were clear. I glanced at the slip of paper again. Yup, 325. Weird. So I went into 315 and asked.
325? There is no 325.
More fun and games with Pip (she's such a blast). Here is a clip showing what mental compliance is as well as showing that intense focus on something does not mean your dog can't listen - quickly and with style.
This all starts with Mine and Look At Me. Please note: No collars, no leashes, no treats, no edits, no retakes - just a bit of a pretty standard walk.
This week, Pip and I indulged in some serious backyard blackberry picking. I plucked huge ripe ones at my height and she delicately deberried at hers. Every so often I would rest a hand on her sun-warmed back and she would pause, glancing up with an open-mouthed canine grin, saying in every way I could understand, “Yeah, this is great, isn’t it.” Then, with a quick wag from her and smile from me, we’d both go back to our happy task in quiet communion.