Layla is absolutely spoiled silly, and I’m completely unrepentant. Frankly, I adore spoiling her. I love how opinionated she is, and find it funny when her opinions don’t match up with mine. Why have a pet dog if you can’t spoil her?

That said, I think there’s a fine line that we as pet owners have to walk when we’re spoiling our dogs. I make no secret of how much I adore Layla. She pretty much gets what she wants, but there are limits, and that’s where we need to be careful with our dogs. I’ll let you in on a secret: most of the really spoiled dogs I see are not happy.

Recently, I went on a private training consult to the home of a giant working breed. The dog had been through somewhere between 5-7 homes, and a lovely, well-meaning couple saved her life. The dog had food out whenever she wanted to eat. She had toys everywhere and was given bones and treats whenever she wanted. Her owners heaped love and attention on her. She had some fear aggression issues, and when she reacted to me coming into the house by lunging and barking, her “dad” hugged her and told her it was okay. Her “mom” then allowed her to pull over to me, telling me, “It’s okay, she’ll be fine once she sniffs you.” The dog came right into my space, tense, with very stressed body language. Yikes. (I referred these clients to a veterinary behaviorist due to compliance issues and hope for the best for their dog.)

Tank the foster puppy learned right away that his crate is a great place to chill out and chew on a toy.

Dogs like this are quite common, and I see a lot of them for anxiety issues. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Frankly, I think most dogs really like clear boundaries. Dogs who are given everything they want, when they want it, are not dogs who feel secure. It’s a lot of responsibility to give a dog.

So, how do I balance this with my own dogs? I love to give my dogs food, treats, toys, and affection. I love playing with them, exercising them, and training them. I melt when a dog falls asleep snuggled up against me. I prefer to have them in bed with me, and Layla even sleeps under the covers. But things don’t start off that way.

When a dog first comes into my home, that dog doesn’t have any privileges. He sleeps in his crate and there are no toys available other than nylon chew bones in the crate. When he’s not in his crate, he’s on a leash or tethered to me. His meals are fed to him by hand, earned through training sessions, or given in puzzle toys in his crate. Praise and petting are doled out for good behavior, and snuggling sessions are kept short. He’s not allowed on the furniture, and play sessions with my dogs are limited to a few short times a day.

Isn’t this hard to do? Of course! I often foster dogs from very bad situations, and my first inclination with these dogs is to show them just how great life with a person can be. Just like my clients with the giant breed dog, I want to spoil them rotten. I want to stuff them with treats, help them discover the joy of dog toys, and let them run and play with my dogs. I also know that doing all of these things would be incredibly selfish. It would make me feel great, but what would I be teaching that dog? Would I be best preparing the dog for life with his adoptive home?

Life as a foster starts in the crate!

By starting off with nothing, I am teaching the new dog some very important life lessons. First of all, I’m teaching him to look to me for guidance. Many dogs from bad situations don’t know how to do this. They need to learn that I will protect, provide for, and guide them. I’m also preventing them from making mistakes. Which is more fair: preventing the dog from chewing up my sofa by keeping him on a leash, or getting mad and yelling at him when I left him unattended with the couch and he chewed the arm off? Which do most pet owners do?

As the dog learns to look to me for guidance and learns all of the silly rules we humans expect (don’t pee in the house, don’t chew up the leather shoes that smell so delicious, the dog bed is okay to lie on but the couch is not, the food on the counter is off-limits, humping is verboten), I start to give him privileges. I usually start by providing the dog with more toys, if he likes to play with dog toys (not every dog knows how, especially if he hasn’t ever had toys before or has been punished for chewing on things in the past). I’ll start to allow the dog to mix with my own dogs more, and will allow more play time. Maybe he’ll start to be allowed off-leash in one room of the house at a time (when I’m in the room with him). Some of his food might come from a dog bowl, although I will still hand feed and use some food in training. He’ll be in his crate less, and will get petted and snuggled with more.

The more cooperative and easy-going the dog is, the faster he earns privileges. If he becomes pushy or stops looking to me for guidance, I’ll revoke some of his newfound privileges. This is not a punishment, but is simply fairness. He’s shown me that he’s not yet ready for that level of responsibility, and it’s not fair of me to expect him to follow the rules if he’s just not mature or knowledgeable enough to do so. It would be incredibly unfair of me to get annoyed with him for breaking the rules – if he’s breaking rules, it’s because I’m not explaining things to him or managing him well enough. When a dog breaks our human rules (which must seem incredibly silly to them), it’s a human failing. It is not the dog’s fault.

Layla and Dobby sleep together in my bed.

So where does that leave Layla? Well, Layla’s earned her privileges. She, too, started off with nothing. Is she naughty? Absolutely! However, she’s naughty in a way that I find endearing and don’t mind. She may drive someone else crazy, but the behaviors I don’t like have been eliminated through training and management. What are left are “naughty” behaviors that I find funny or endearing. I love that she’s “trained” me to give her treats for misbehaving – how clever is that?! I don’t care that she steals dryer sheets – it’s adorable when she rolls on them as if they’re the best smell she’s ever sniffed. I don’t care that she demands to come up on my lap while I’m working – I figure I need the break, and enjoy snuggling with her for 15 minutes. I don’t care that she jumps on guests – if the guest is someone who doesn’t like dogs, I put her away before the guest arrives or keep her on a leash. I think it’s funny when she “shows off” for visitors by destroying a cardboard box, whipping her toys around, or playing crazily with Dobby or a foster dog. I like to see her happy, and I like her pushy, clever, manipulative naughtiness. It’s who she is, and she’s perfect. Spoiled rotten brat and all.

“He’s so stubborn. He knows how to sit; he just won’t do it unless I show him a treat.” My client glares at his bulldog puppy. The puppy gazes back at him softly, waiting for him to produce a treat. The second the owner pulls out a cookie, the puppy plops into a sit, grinning and wiggling.

Keeping my amusement to myself (what a clever pup!), I demonstrate to his owner how to reverse expectations. Showing the puppy a piece of chicken, I ask him to sit.He immediately plops down and I praise him exuberantly, but withhold the treat. Very ostentatiously, I set the chicken chunk on a nearby counter, then ask the puppy once again to sit. He stares at me, at the chicken, back at me. He remains standing. “Told you so!” the owner crows. “Bulldogs just aren’t very smart.” Ten long seconds later, the puppy’s rear end starts to lower. Before he’s fully in a sit, I click his downward movement and hand him the chicken, telling him what an intelligent pup he is. After a couple of minutes the puppy is slamming his rear enthusiastically on the ground on either a hand signal or verbal cue with no food lure. Stubborn? No, just confused about the rules.

I can understand my client’s need to label his puppy as stubborn and stupid. Last winter, I adopted a broken dog. I had been looking for a dog for a while. However, I hadn’t been looking for this particular dog.

Shortly after adoption, Dobby was a study in stress signals.
Dobby started off as one of a long line of foster dogs. A neophobic bull breed mix from the local pound, he was adorable but was most certainly not the future competition prospect I had in mind. He was hand shy, terrified of doorways, and so overwhelmed with his change in circumstances that he skipped every other meal. Trying to use a food lure or hand target resulted in him hitting the ground and trying to become one with the floor. Guests to my home caused him to growl and back up quickly, eyes wide and tail glued to his belly button.

Layla had different ideas about him. She fell in love, sleeping curled up around this dog and spontaneously inviting him to play on a daily basis. For a highly dog-selective bitch who typically barely tolerates fosters, this was so out of character that I sat up and took notice. After two months of
her embarrassing love affair, I gave in. The adoption paperwork was signed, and I found myself the proud owner of a dog who flattened to the floor and peed all over himself if I so much as looked at him cross-eyed.

I joked with my friends that I was just attracted to “broken” dogs. My other dogs have also been less-than-perfect when they came to live with me. I tried not to feel resentful that my plans for a competitive sports dog were being pushed back several years. It was worth it to see Layla so blissfully happy.

That’s when it hit me. I may not be calling my new dog stubborn or stupid, but labeling him as a “broken” dog was just as damning.

Words have power. It’s easy to forget this. In fact, our culture refutes this truth on a daily basis. “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me” is a lie that we tell ourselves from the time we’re little. It feels good to think that we’re immune to the power of suggestion. We’re stronger than that. We know how to look at facts and think rationally. How well we fool ourselves.

The real truth is that labels are incredibly powerful. One need look no further than the “Pit Bull problem” to see how this plays out. Two similar bite incidents happen on the same day. Both involve damage to a young child’s face by the resident dog. One involves a Labrador Retriever, one an American Pit Bull Terrier. The incident with the Lab is reported in two local papers. The incident with the Pit Bull is picked up by the Associated Press and winds up sparking debate on multiple national news shows about the need for Breed Specific Legislation. Label the biting dog with a different breed, and the headlines become so much less sexy. Pit Bulls are not Labradors, and Labs are not Pits. However, the “Pit Bull” label has come to mean something entirely different to the general public and the media than it does to those of us who work with these dogs on a regular basis. Dogs are profiled based on the size of their head and the mass of their muscles rather than being approached as individuals.

By calling my dog broken, even jokingly, I was damaging our prospects before we even started. Any time we label something, we create mental associations. When I think of the word broken, I think of having to repair something, of possibly not being able to fix it. Word associations pop up in my mind: discarded, unusable, neglected, thrown out, useless. These mental images were being attached, however unconsciously, to my new dog. Realizing this, I decided to try an experiment. I had already begun a desensitization and counter-conditioning program with Dobby, taking him to quiet places and rewarding him lavishly for brave behavior. I was working within his comfort zone and patiently encouraging him to explore the world. I changed absolutely nothing about this training plan. The only detail I altered was how I described him. Instead of speaking about Dobby as broken, rescued, neophobic, or terrified, I invented new labels. Clicking and feeding him a food reward for walking through a doorway without crouching, I cooed to him about what a “big, brave boy” he was. When he finally started to offer sits, I praised him as “SUCH a clever boy!” Over and over, the little dog heard, “Dobby’s clever.” “Dobby’s brave.” “Dobby’s a good dog.”

I expected results. I’d been seeing progress already, and I figured this small change could only improve things. After four months, if my little dog was still so terrified that it impacted his quality of life, I would talk to my veterinarian about a referral to a board certified veterinary behaviorist to get him further help.

Layla and her dog curl up together.
This proved unnecessary. Suddenly, my “neophobic pound puppy” was playing tug like a Schutzhund dog and jumping up on strangers in friendly greeting. He would go into the backyard with a ball in his mouth to run and run, tail up and eyes sparkling. He bounced around me as I worked in the garden, and pranced past the bikes, joggers, and baseball players in the park as if they were only so much scenery. He passed the “appearance and grooming” test in the Canine Good Citizen exam, sitting calmly by my side as a complete stranger handled his ears and paws, then ran a brush down his back.

Each day he became braver, and suddenly I had my competition prospect. Here was a dog with a great work ethic, drive to spare, and the intense desire to work cooperatively with me. Here was a dog who, while still unsure about new things, was willing to trust that I would keep him safe and to try his very best each time I asked it. The only difference? A few small words. The power of suggestion.

This can be a powerful tool for our clients. I believe this small shift in thinking spells the difference between those teams who succeed with behavior modification and those who never get things figured out.

How often do trainers hear that a pushy, anxious dog is “dominant?” The dominance myth has such incredible power that one can see the change in a client in an instant. As my clients describe their “dominant” dog to me, I watch as their faces change. Their eyes harden, the muscles around their lips tighten up, and they become tense. They glare at their dog. Their bodies unconsciously prepare for battle. If the dog is on a leash, the owner tightens up on it. Other labels cause similar observable results: dogs are stubborn, stupid, manipulative, guilty, aggressive, reactive. Owners excuse poor behavior by saying that the dog was abused, neglected, or rescued, or that the breed is “always like this.”

It’s amazing what words can do. When an owner labels their dog, we need to focus first on changing their perceptions. Problems can crop up here. The first thing that springs from most trainers’ lips when trying to advise an owner who’s doing something wrong is a phrase beginning with a negative (“Don’t….”).

This negativity affects our clients. The majority of people will try very hard to take a trainer’s advice. They will remind themselves over and over, “don’t say no” or “don’t pop the leash.” And what’s happening each time they issue an internal reminder? They’re mentally practicing that forbidden behavior, getting better and better at it. The more they remind themselves to stop, the more they picture the prohibited behavior in their minds. That mental imagery becomes reality. They can’t stop themselves from popping the leash or telling their dog no because they’ve practiced that negative behavior so many times in their mind. It’s firmly entrenched in their behavioral repertoire. We need to reframe the situation for them if we want to help them succeed.

As positive trainers, most of us find it easy to be kind to the dog. Unfortunately, not every positive trainer is as patient and reinforcing to the
other end of the leash. Try this simple experiment. Next time a client tells you that their dog is stubborn; prove to that person that their dog is
willing. Say it just as many times as the person repeats their assertion. Each time the client tells me, “He’s just so stubborn!” I counter with “he’s so eager to learn” or “he’s trying so hard to figure out what you want.” Sincerity is important here. If the rate of reinforcement is too low and the dog could care less about the person holding onto his leash handle, fix that first. Telling your client that his dog is cooperative while Fido lunges and barks at the cute Poodle across the room is a great way to drive business away. Give a concrete suggestion: “I want you to click and treat eight times in the next minute.” Shape success in your student just as you do with the other end of the leash. The laws of learning apply to all organisms, and humans are no exception.

It’s true that dogs couldn’t care less about words. Words are as foreign a concept to your dog as scent is to you. However, dogs live in a human world. In our world, words have incredible power. Mental imagery allows us to practice dealing successfully (or not!) with a given situation repeatedly before that situation ever arises. Labels create subconscious associations that influence our behavior, which in turn shapes our dogs’ behavior.

Simple changes can produce big results. My new dog is brave, clever, and willing. He recently started foundation agility classes, where he’s excelling, and qualified twice at his very first APDT Rally Obedience show. My client’s Bulldog puppy is stubborn no more. On graduation night of Beginning Obedience class, he proudly showed off his dog’s new trick repertoire: shake, wave, high five, and yes, sit on cue with no cookie in sight. As his classmates applauded, a fellow student expressed doubt that her dog would ever become so well behaved. My client’s answer? “My dog made it easy: he’s really smart.”

Dogs are incredibly gifted at reading intent in our tone, posture, and movement. Just because they don’t know the literal meaning of each word doesn’t mean they aren’t influenced by language. Stop for a minute and consider this: what have you been saying to yourself… and
what has your dog heard?

* Don’t approach dogs in cars.

*Approach slowly and calmly when meeting a new dog.

*Ask for permission when greeting a dog.

*Avoid staring at unfamiliar dogs or approaching head on.

*Don’t loom over a dog you are just meeting.

*Avoid reaching into a dog’s personal space.

*Avoid interacting if a dog looks scared.

*Touch and pet a dog gently.

If you have even the slightest suspicionthat your dog is suffering from heat stoke, you must take immediate action.

1-First, move your dog out of the heat and away from the sun right away.

2-Begin cooling your dog by placing cool, wet rags or washcloths on the body especially the foot pads and around the head.

3-DO NOT use ice or very cold water! Extreme cold can cause the blood vessels to constrict, preventing the body’s core from cooling and actually causing the internal temperature to further rise. In addition, over-cooling can cause hypothermia, introducing a host of new problems. When the body temperature drops to 103°, stop cooling.

4-Offer your dog cool water, but do not force water into your dog’s mouth.

5-Call or visit your vet right away – even if your dog seems better.Internal damage might not be obvious to the naked eye, so an exam is necessary (and further testing may be recommended).

Do I Go Home Today?

By Sandi Thompson ~

My family brought me home
cradled in their arms.
They cuddled me and smiled at me,
and said I was full of charm.

They played with me and laughed with me,
they showered me with toys.
I sure do love my family
especially the girls and boys.

The children loved to feed me,
they gave me special treats.
They even let me sleep with them
all snuggled in the sheets.

I used to go for walks,
often several times a day.
They even fought to hold my leash,
I’m very proud to say.

These are things I’ll never forget
a cherished memory.
I now live in a shelter
without my family.

They used to laugh and praise me
when I played with that old shoe.
But I didn’t know the difference
between the old ones and the new.

The kids and I would grab a rag
for hours we would tug.
So I thought I did the right thing
when I chewed the bathroom rug.

They said that I was out of control,
and would have to live outside.
This I did not understand
although I tried and tried.

The walks stopped, one by one;
they said they hadn’t time.
I wish that I could change things,
I wish I knew my crime.

My life became so lonely,
in the back yard on a chain.
I barked and barked all day long
to keep from going insane.

So they brought me to the shelter
but were embarrassed to say why.
They said I caused an allergy,
and then, kissed me goodbye.

If I’d only had some classes,
as a little pup
I wouldn’t have been so hard to handle
when I was all grown up.

“You only have one day left,”
I heard the worker say.
Does this mean a second chance?
Do I go home today?

Are veterinarians over-vaccinating KNOWINGLY?
http://www.truthaboutpetfood.com/articles/dog-rabies-vaccine-fox-news-investigation.html

Dog-friendly beaches and resorts that cater to canines have grown in popularity in the past few years and can be found around the country. Websites like petfriendlytravel.com can provide details.

Remember to bring a leash, doggie pick-up bags, fresh drinking water and a bowl. And be aware that the biggest risk for a dog at the beach is salt poisoning from the water, said Dr. Tina Wismer, medical director for the Animal Poison Control Center run by the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in Urbana, Ill.

“Dogs who like to retrieve balls and other objects out of the water can ingest enough water to make them sick,” she said. In fresh water, the games are the same but the problem can be drinking too much water, or water intoxication.

“The most common treatment of salt poisoning or water intoxication is intravenous fluid therapy,” the veterinarian said.

Other things dog-owners should watch for: “Dogs can get sick from eating dead fish, crabs, or even bird feces,” Wismer said. “If a dog ingests dead animals, or feces found on the beach, they may need fluids and antibiotics, depending on what and how much was ingested.”

In some areas, jellyfish can show up in the water. Their stings can be very painful for both dogs and humans. “If a dog is stung by a jellyfish, pain medication could be necessary,” Wismer said.

Some sea stars are also poisonous and can cause severe vomiting and drooling in a dog, she added.

Summer is travel season, which means pet sitting season is in high gear.

My mother has a favorite saying: no good deed goes unpunished. This aphorism seems to hold especially true in the field of pet sitting. I work at an emergency veterinary hospital, and I regularly see unfortunate pet sitters who are forced to make important medical decisions on behalf of owners who are completely unreachable because they are on flights to Europe or cruises to Antarctica or halfway across the trans-Siberian Railroad. These poor pet sitters often have no prior instructions or advance directives for veterinary emergencies. They often have no means of paying for expensive veterinary procedures such as surgical correction of gastric dilatation with volvulus (known colloquially as bloat) in the owners’ absence.

I recently returned from a trip to Bolivia. I was unlucky: Denise couldn’t come with me. However, this was lucky for my pal Buster, since it meant he got to stay home with his mom. If something goes wrong with the dog while I’m out of town, Denise has a large network of my friends, colleagues, coworkers, and former vet school drinking buddies that she can call day or night.

Most people aren’t so fortunate when it comes to pet sitting and veterinary care. Sadly pets get sick, sometimes fatally, at a disproportionately high rate when in the care of pet sitters or boarding facilities.

It is true that, in very rare instances, pet sitters allow their wards to run free in fields of foxtails located between 100 foot cliffs and busy highways. The inevitable problem that occurs as a result of this behavior is caused, proximately, but the pet sitter. But the ultimate cause of the problem in these cases lies with the pet’s owner, who should have chosen a better pet sitter. It is the pet owner’s job to do his due diligence.

The overwhelming majority of pet sitters are not irresponsible. In fact, I see a different scenario far more frequently than the one mentioned above. A concerned and responsible pet sitter brings in a pet. She states that the owner mentioned, prior to leaving for his ascent of Everest during which he will be unreachable for 21 days, that the dog had been vomiting and not eating for about a week. The dog is really sick now, and needs major treatment. But the dog was sick before the owner left him with the pet sitter, and the pet sitter must now deal with the crisis. I believe that teenagers these days refer to the owner’s actions in this scenario as a “douchebag move.” It’s an appropriate term.

However, by far the most frequent scenario of all is as follows. A seemingly healthy pet is left with a pet sitter. The pet was slowly developing an illness prior to the owner’s departure but was showing no outward symptoms of disease. The stress of the owner’s absence disrupts the pet’s equilibrium, and the pet gets sick while the owner is away. Neither the owner nor the pet sitter has done anything wrong whatsoever. But the situation is the same: the pet sitter must now make important medical decisions, and possibly pay for treatment on behalf of the owner.

These situations are unfair to pets, pet sitters, and pet owners. Fortunately, there are some tactics that help all parties involved in these sorts of crises.

Here is my advice for pet owners:
# Take your pet with you if you can. It’s usually fun for you and your pet.
# For god’s sake, don’t leave a sick pet with a pet sitter. That is super uncoool. If you have any doubts about your pet’s health, get a checkup before your trip.
# Leave clear instructions about your desires for care in the event of an unfortunate incident. Leave them in writing. Leave a credit card number as well.
# Take your cell phone with you. Keep it on. Check your e-mail regularly. Stay in touch.
# If you will be unreachable, choose a pet sitter you trust, provide written instructions stating your desires in the event of an emergency, state in writing that you absolve the pet sitter of any liability for medical decisions made in your absence, and state that you will pay for any treatments authorized by the pet sitter (using the credit card number provided in the bullet point item above).
# Let your vet know that you’ll be out of town, and that your pet sitter is authorized to make medical decisions on your behalf. Give your pet sitter your vet’s contact information, as well as the contact information for the nearest after hours emergency clinic.
# Provide other contact information as well. Give the pet sitter your brother’s phone number, or your best friend’s number, so that they can help participate in the decision. Warn your brother and your best friend that you will be doing this, and make sure they share your philosophy on veterinary treatments so that they can actually help with problem, rather than get in the way.
# Enjoy your trip. You have planned for the worst, now hope for the best. Most of the time nothing goes wrong. But keep your cell phone on and with you nonetheless.

Here is my advice for pet sitters:
# Make sure that the pet owners do all of the above.
# Develop a personal relationship with a veterinarian who may be able to provide guidance if all of the above tactics fail.
# Don’t let pets play in fields of foxtails that are situated between 100 foot cliffs and busy highways. (Just kidding, of course).

As an aid to both owners and pet sitters, I am happy to provide a copy of the written instructions that Denise and I leave with our pet sitter when we both go out of town and can’t take Buster with us. The instructions haven’t been reviewed by an attorney, so I can’t vouch for their legal validity. But I think you’ll still get the point.

[Date]

To Whom It May Concern:

[My pet sitter], [my sister-in-law-to-be] and any staff veterinarian at [my vet clinic or my local emergency clinic] have authorization to make medical decisions regarding the care of my dog, “Buster” in my absence from [date of departure] to [date of return].

Major procedures such as surgical correction of gastric dilatation with volvulus, enterotomy to remove gastrointestinal foreign body, bone plating for fractures, and others are authorized as long as a veterinarian at [one of my trusted facilities] believes there is a reasonable chance the procedure will result in a successful outcome.

I ask to be called on my cell phone at XXX-XXX-XXXX or XXX-XXX-XXXX in the event of any medical problem involving Buster. However, if I cannot be reached then the people listed above shall have decision making power. I agree not to hold any above party liable for competently performed treatments that do not succeed.

Medical bills can be charged to my MasterCard: XXXX XXXX XXXX XXXX

Signed, Eric Barchas

by  Karen Pryor ( Clickertraining )

When you deal with barking, it’s important to look at the whole situation. Barking is sometimes a symptom of another problem—for example, fear, boredom, or stress. If you fix the problem, the symptom will likely go away. However, if you simply treat the symptom, the problem will just manifest itself
Your barking dog

Dogs bark for a number of reasons, some acceptable, some not. Common types of barking include the following:

Alert barking. Dog barks to let you know he has seen or heard something out of the ordinary.
Defensive barking. Dog barks to make something he is afraid of or doesn’t like go away.
Attention barking. Dog wants attention.
Frustration barking. Dog is confused, frustrated, or stressed.
Boredom barking. Dog barks to amuse himself.
Evaluate the situation
When you deal with barking, it’s important to look at the whole situation. Barking is sometimes a symptom of another problem—for example, fear, boredom, or stress. If you fix the problem, the symptom will likely go away. However, if you simply treat the symptom, the problem will just manifest itself in a different way—one which may be worse! Treat the problem not the symptom.

Define and train an alternative behavior
Not all barking is symptomatic of an underlying problem. Often it’s simple communication: “There’s someone outside!” “I want to come in!” “I’m hungry!”

First, listen to your dog. Address the issue. Then determine whether barking was an appropriate response. Perhaps limited barking is all right under certain circumstances. Or perhaps you’d prefer to teach your dog an alternative way to communicate his needs. It’s your responsibility to define an appropriate response in each situation.

If the dog continues to bark after being cued to do something else, or if the dog is barking for attention, one of the most effective responses is to remove what he wants.
For example, your dog alert barks when a car pulls into the driveway. First, listen to the dog and address the issue. Check to see what he’s barking at, thank him for bringing the situation to your attention, and reassure him you’ve got it under control. Then decide how you want him to react in the future when strangers drive in. Perhaps he may bark to alert you, but once he’s done that you want him to be quiet. If that’s the case, interrupt any further barking and cue another, reinforceable behavior.

Train your dog to be silent
By teaching your dog to bark on cue, you can also teach him to be silent on cue. Read Karen’s method for teaching bark/be quiet.

Remove the reinforcement for unwanted barking
Barking is, unfortunately, a self-reinforcing behavior, so waiting for the behavior to extinguish—even when another behavior is reinforced—is often futile. Therefore I recommend a combination of positive reinforcement and negative punishment.

If the dog continues to bark after being cued to do something else, or if the dog is barking for attention, one of the most effective responses is to remove what he wants. For example, if he wants to get out of the crate, stop moving or back away when he barks, then walk forward when he quiets down.

Manage the environment
When you’re not training, manage the environment so that barking isn’t triggered and inadvertently reinforced. For example, if your dog barks when he’s alone in the backyard, keep him inside except when you’re able to go out with him. If your dog barks at passersby through the front window, either draw the blinds or keep the dog out of the front room except when you’re there to address the problem.

When you’re training, make sure inappropriate barking isn’t rewarded—and that the preferred response is. Be proactive. Cue your preferred response before the barking is triggered.

By Heather Lende Posted January 28, 2011 from Woman’s Day; March 1, 2011

My mother’s last words were “Take good care of the garden and the dogs,” and so, of course, I am doing my best. I have three dogs, and my husband says our house has become an “old dogs’ home.”

Forte is the most challenging. A big black Flat-Coated Retriever, he is almost 12 and we suspect he has bone cancer. A visiting vet gave us some painkillers, suggested he lose a few pounds, and noted that even if he does have cancer there’s not much anyone can do for him. Besides, the nearest veterinary hospital is a plane or ferry ride away from our tiny Alaska town and from his beloved partner of 8 years, Merry, a smaller husky-Lab mix. At 15, she is no puppy herself, but she has weathered the assaults of age more gracefully, thanks in large part to her healthier habits.

In his youth, Forte could steal a stick of butter off a table set for a holiday dinner without spilling a water glass. That’s a neat trick when you weigh about 100 pounds soaking wet (which he often is, thanks to the beach in our backyard). He also was very fond of my neighbor’s garbage and survived such known canine toxins as chicken bones (raw and cooked) and chocolate (in birthday cakes, Halloween bags and Easter baskets), although the gas he expelled afterward nearly killed us.

He does eat the occasional vegetable or fruit. When the greenhouse door is open on warm summer days, he thinks I don’t notice when he yanks up a whole tomato plant and drags it into the yard to snack on, or that he sucks raspberries off the canes and swallows strawberries whole. But he has never chased one of my chickens, even just for fun. I had an old hen that napped snuggled up against him on the porch. That may have been as close as I will come to witnessing the peaceable kingdom. I have seen Forte growl only once, when a stray dog attacked Merry and he charged in to protect her.

Forte came to live with us when he was 4. He belonged to a friend who said he paid a fortune for him in the lower 48, as a gift for his wife. Then they had a baby, and decided the dog would do better with a more active family. I took one look at Forte and said if he didn’t chase chickens and got along with the other dogs, he could stay with us. Turns out even our snappy terrier, Phoebe, liked him, and she doesn’t like anyone. (My daughter J.J. picked Phoebe out of a box of puppies at the grocery store 11 years ago. J.J.’s in college; Phoebe is still here.) Forte had the bouncy energy of Pooh Bear’s pal Tigger, and I tired him out on lots of runs and walks. My husband said he didn’t understand how a dog so good-looking could be so badly behaved.

What my husband didn’t know then is that Forte would spare him from hearing all my drafts and revises. That dog has helped me write two books. He sleeps under my desk, and whenever I have a sentence I’m struggling with, I read it out loud to him. Forte never tires of the sound of my voice and, like the best editors, he lets me hear from myself what’s wrong.

Our youngest daughter, Stoli, spent the first eight years of her life in a Bulgarian orphanage and was terribly afraid of dogs when she joined our household. She later told us she had been taught that dogs would bite her if she misbehaved. Stoli fell hard for Forte, and he for her. Soon he was sleeping on her bed. She taught him manners, and how to roll over, lie down, and sit still while she combed and blow-dried his fur after a bath.

After a recent break from college, Stoli made me promise that Forte will still be here when she comes home from school. I’m doing my best, but I’m afraid Forte’s big heartbeats are running out. The last time I took him hiking was over a year ago. We were halfway up our regular trek to an overlook above town when he sat down—he couldn’t go any farther. That day, I thought about all the miles he’d traveled with me, and all the times he’d waited while I struggled, especially after I was recovering from a broken pelvis. Then, I didn’t want to hike with sturdier friends or even my husband. I didn’t want them to see me fail. But Forte never minded those short, slow walks. When I slowed down, he’d lope back to check on me. When I turned around before reaching the end of the trail, he’d stroll cheerfully by my side. Which is why as much as I wanted my exercise the day he couldn’t walk another step, I said “Let’s go home.” His soft brown eyes said thank you.

I used to mind that my mother didn’t share more wisdom with me before she died than “Take good care of the garden and the dogs.” I was hoping she’d tell me more about how to live the second half of my life without her. Now, I realize she did. A woman could do worse on a cold gray afternoon than share the couch with a friend who likes it when she reads out loud to him. I’ve long since forgiven Forte about the butter and the tomatoes. I wouldn’t trade any of that for the way he looks at me these days. I think I’ve glimpsed a preview of heaven, and it’s in an old dog’s eyes.