THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

Several readers have asked about the new product called “Dognition” that promises (quoting from the website), “You’ll learn your dog’s cognitive style by playing fun, science-based games — an experience that gives you the insight you need to make the most of your relationship with your best friend.” I was curious myself, given that the force behind the product is the work of scientist Brian Hare, whose relevant claim to fame is his research on the ability of dogs to inherently understand a person’s pointing gesture. I’ve argued that this claim needs more research, as does his suggestion that the long-standing relationship between dogs and people has resulted in the evolution of special communicatory skills in dogs (especially as regards to pointing). However, I love that his work has helped to energize research on canine cognition. (If you want to read more about whether dogs can inherently understand the pointing gesture of a person, see Do Dogs Inherently Understand Pointing Gestures? and  An Update on Pointing Gestures and Dogs.)

Dr. Hare has since come out with a new book, The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs are Smarter Than You Think, and a product called the Dognition Assessment Toolkit. I haven’t read the book yet, but was intrigued by a set of games he has developed that are supposed to increase one’s understanding of their dog’s personality and cognition style. The perfect cabin-fever reliever perhaps? Even better, the website explains that all the results will be aggregated and used as an example of “citizen science.” It says: “By gathering this data we can begin to understand more about all dogs, much more quickly and on a broader scale than if scientists had to conduct this research themselves.”

I signed up Willie, Tootsie and Katie’s dog Leo at $59 each, passing up the $129 offer of the toolkit + one year’s annual membership. Katie and I began the games last week, and finally finished with Tootsie yesterday. I say “finally” with intention: I want to tell you that the games were incredibly fun and that I learned oodles that I didn’t know about Tootsie. Alas, here’s the bottom line: Sometimes the “games” were fun, sometimes they were tedious, sometimes they were mildly aversive (more on that later) and I’m afraid I didn’t learn much about Tootsie that I didn’t know. I had planned to finish the games with Willie today, but realized that rather than looking forward to it I was… what’s the right word? “Dreading it” is too strong, but it felt like a great burden that I would have to slog through. Then I realized that I didn’t need to finish the games with Willie at all; I already had learned what I needed to know to make my own evaluation of the project for this post, and didn’t have any expectation that I would learn anything especially useful about Willie that I didn’t know before. Before I continue, let me be absolutely clear: Others might find the exercises great fun and the eventual evaluation extremely useful in improving their relationship with their dog. But all I can give you is my honest assessment of my own experience, for whatever it is worth.

Here is a bit about how the program works: There are five categories of games, labeled Empathy, Communication, Cunning, Memory and Reasoning.  Before playing the games one fills out an extensive questionnaire. I’d give it kudos for being thorough, but many of the questions should be answered with “I don’t know” (which, good for them, is always an option). For example, you are asked if your dog “understands” the cue to sit. Without testing Tootsie a la Ian Dunbar’s game, and asking her to sit while she is already sitting or while lying down, I can’t answer that question. I can answer if she does sit when asked, but that is an entirely different question (which was also asked, I should note). However, many of the questions were easy to answer, like “Is Tootsie friendly to other dogs?” One could answer “All the time, Some of the time,” etc. I choose “Some of the time” for Willie often, given that his behavior is so context dependent.  After the questionnaire, you begin the games. With a few important exceptions noted below, they are explained very clearly. If you decide to play, be aware that you’ll need someone to help with all of them, a fact not made clear before you begin and that threw me off when I first tried to get started by myself one afternoon.

Many of the games involve putting a treat on the ground on one side of you or the other. The treats might be on the ground, inside a cup or under a piece of paper. Your dog has a variety of ways, over the course of the tests, to choose the “correct” side, based on your pointing toward it, showing your dog that it is in the cup before turning the cup over, etc. Each of the games that require a dog to “choose sides” do a good job of establishing first whether your dog has a side preference. (Both Willie and Tootsie more often went to my right side (their left), which fits with the knowledge that most dogs are “left pawed.”) Katie and I did quite a few of the games together, either with her as the helper for me and Tootsie, or vice versa for her and Leo. The biggest snag that we ran into was a discrepancy between what the dog did and how we were asked to record it.

Here’s an example: You define “left and right” with 3 sticky notes, one directly in front of you, one each to the right and left of you on the floor. With a helper holding your dog, you might point to a cup with a treat hidden underneath it on your right side. The instructions tell you to score your dog as “retrieving the treat” if you pointed to the treat on your right, and your dog went between the sticky notes in front and to the right of you. Thus, passing between 2 sticky notes on the ground on the same side as the treat meant your dog had “retrieved the treat.” (The word ‘retrieve’ was confusing to us…’chosen’ or ‘focused on’ would be more helpful.) But here is what sometimes happened: Imagine I placed 2 cups on the floor on either side of me, one with a treat, and pointed to the one with the treat while Tootsie watched me from about 6 feet away. Let’s say that the cup with the treat was on my right. Tootsie was released and wandered through the sticky notes to my right, but paid no attention at all to the cup with the treat underneath, and passed behind me to vigorously sniff at the (empty) cup on the left. Based on the instructions we were told to score that as “retrieved the treat,” but her behavior indicated she was focused on the cup without anything in it.

Other games require you to say something to your dog and then stay stock still and silent for up to two and a half minutes. This was the part that Katie and I found a bit tedious. Standing silent and motionless while looking directly at your dog is so unnatural I found it unnerving. (In one test you stand still and silent for 1 minute, then 1.5 minutes, then 2 minutes and then 2.5 minutes. Katie and I were both ridiculously relieved when it was over.) One could argue that science is not about having fun, but is about designing and conducting good experiments. However, anyone who has taken Experimental Psychology 101 knows that the behavior of the experimenter must be carefully controlled in any study. For the results to be lumped together and analyzed, either only one carefully trained “handler” would have to be the one cuing the dogs in exactly the same circumstances, or a few well-trained handlers would have to undergo extensive training and testing to ensure that their behavior was consistent. Thus, it is hard to know what the results of an aggregate of hundreds or thousands of dog owners doing these tests in their own homes would actually mean.

The mildly aversive section occurred when I was to put a treat on the ground, say “No” or “Leave It,” and then wait for an entire (endless) 90 seconds without moving or speaking. This was not a problem with Tootsie, who doesn’t know a Leave it cue, and who trotted toward the treat and gobbled it up. However, Willie does know Leave It, and I wish I had a video of his face staring at mine for 90 seconds after being told Leave It when I placed a dried turkey heart on the ground. That 90 seconds lasted at least an hour… he looked so confused and unsure after about 10 seconds that I could barely maintain my stance. Next you are instructed to put the treat down, say Leave It and turn around so that your back if facing your dog. Willie waited 1 minute and 17 seconds and then padded over and ate the treat. Next you are to hold your hands over your eyes, and this time he waited less than 20 seconds. I have never been so thankful to have a dog disobey a Leave It in my life. Both Katie and I (she acting as recorder and dog holder if needed) darn near cheered when Willie took the treat, so that we didn’t have to wait another endless 90 seconds. I suspect that reading this one could argue: “Really Trisha. Ninety seconds? Seriouslyy, how long is that really?” Answer: When you have to stand still and stare at your dog for that period of time, it feels much longer than one might think.) (Cautionary note: After those games I worked on Leave It with Willie, reinforcing him for avoiding a treat on the ground for 2, 4 and 6 seconds; the games being the perfect way to ruin a well-trained cue if you don’t do some clean up work afterward.)

The results? We finished all the games with Tootsie (3 of 5 game categories are done with Willie) and immediately got her results. Tootsie was classified as a “Stargazer,” whose “unique genius lies in the mix of strategies that she uses to approach daily life… She certainly has a wild, wolf-like side that is especially useful in the environment of the rugged individual.” Labeling Tootsie, the 7-years-in-a-puppy-mill Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who wants nothing more than to eat (anything) and lie in one’s lap, as “wolf-like,” leaves me close to speechless. Her “empathy” scores were “off the charts,” even though it was Willie who yawned after I did and not Tootsie, yawning after seeing another yawn being indicative of empathy). Tootsie’s results also indicated that she is “highly collaborative;” I’m guessing that is because she did indeed focus on the food I pointed to in some of the tests. But categorizing her as such is a stretch, I’d argue. Tootsie is pretty much all about food, while Willie is often called “Trisha’s mood ring.” Willie appears to care deeply about how I am feeling, while Tootsie appears to care deeply about how quickly she can get the food out of my pocket. Of course, I could be wrong about my assessment and the tests could be more accurate, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.

The one result that I found surprising, and thus interesting, was that Tootsie did indeed focus more on the treats on the ground if I pointed to them (but not when the treat wasn’t visible ). Willie, who has learned exactly what an outstretched and pointing arm means, appeared to pay no attention. I suspect that pointing to something in the distance, with one’s arm almost horizontal to the ground, is a very different signal than pointing almost straight down toward the ground, with one’s arm just a few inches away from the torso. That got me thinking that perhaps what we call “pointing” could actually involve several different visual signals that should be considered independently. (And one more pointing note, skip if all this pointing stuff is tiresome to you!: Dognition actually has you both point AND turn your head toward and look at the object in question. Thus, pointing, and gaze are confounded here. That’s a technical point, but an important one to those who study animal communication.)

At one point the evaluation interprets Tootsie’s inconsistent responses in a series of tests as “switching back and forth” between strategies, a behavior labeled as “impressive flexibility.” Another way to label this is “having no strategy at all.” I’m just saying. Reading their evaluation of Tootsie reminded me of schools in which all the students get A’s and blue ribbons because, well, they are there. On the plus side, it appears that the designers of Dognition are working hard to clarify that there are no ‘right or wrong’ answers, and that every dog is using a different kind of cognition strategy to make their way in the world. That’s important, and I credit them for it. This is not about whether your dog is a Good Dog or a Not So Good Dog, but about finding what’s going on between those furry ears of hers. Learning more about your dog is a wonderful thing; however my guess is that most people who are motivated to spend the money to play these games with their dog, and get through all 2.5 to 3 hours required, already know more about their dog than a product like this can teach them.

A few notes if you decide you want to play: 1) Don’t even think about doing this all at once. You and your dog will be toast if you do. The website is well designed to allow you to pause, and wisely encourages you to do so. We did Tootsie’s tests over 4 different sessions. 2) Round up an assistant before you start, you absolutely have to have one for almost all of the games. 3) You need to be right beside your computer to play. Laptops and iPads work great. 4) Take your own notes about your dog’s responses. You don’t get a summary of what they did (“followed point 2 out of 6 times, for example) and I’d love to see the actual data. 5) Careful of the treats: Your dog could end up getting a lot of them. Tootsie basically ate the equivalent of two dinners during the last session, even when she didn’t “get” the treat much of the time.

Have you played it yet? I’d love to hear if you have and what you thought of it. I truly wanted to write a positive review myself;  the Advisory Board on this project reads like a Who’s Who in canine cognition, including Dr. Juliane Kaminski, Dr Richard Wrangham, Dr. Adam Miklosi, Dr. Laurie  Santos and Dr. Josep Call as well as Dr. Brian Hare. I know some of these scientists and not only admire their work, I like them personally. But good science is about evaluating the facts, and it would be disingenuous of me not to be honest in my assessment. Let me know what you think.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm. We’re melting! Finally finally finally the spring thaw has begun. It may be under freezing at night, and there is still plenty of snow and ice on the ground, but there are also patches of bare, spongy ground, and the air is rich with the songs of Redwing Blackbirds and the guttural calls of Sandhill Cranes.

The lambs are due to start dropping any day now, so Jim and I are busy in the barn. We had a lovely, long weekend at a friend’s cabin up north last weekend, and came home refreshed and ready for spring. I’m finishing up my Contemplative Photography course, which I’ve absolutely adored. Here are two of my photos for the the class, a Beech leaf and a scene from up the hill, just yesterday. Enjoy.

A long, long time ago I had an intact male Border Collie (my first BC ever, Drift), who appeared to be failing his job as a stud dog. Although his escort, the lovely Tib, could not have been more clear that she was ready to be bred, Drift couldn’t seem to get the job done. Tib would prance around Drift all shiny-eyed, literally throw her rump in his face and flag her tail so far over to the side that I wondered if it might break off. Drift behaved as though he got the message loud and clear, and would enthusiastically mount Tib from behind. But then he would make one or two thrusts, and his entire body would appear to deflate (not to mention his equipment) while he slumped off to the side. Tib would respond by again throwing her rump at his head and flagging (the clarity of a female dog’s intent when performing this action is impressive, if not almost embarrassing), Drift would mount her anew and again slide off as if someone put a pin in a balloon.

With time running out, female dogs don’t ovulate for all that long after all, I drove both dogs to the UW Vet School to see if something was wrong with Drift or Tib. Nope, they both checked out fine. One of the specialists there suggested I try artificial insemination, and proceeded to school me on how to do just that. If you want to know what it was like to have a 6’6″ man ask me if I knew how to “collect a sample,” and then use my thumb and his hand to demonstrate stimulating Drift to ejaculate, you will have to buy me a martini and ask after I’ve drunk the entire thing. Fast.

I never did have to collect a sample. I figured out the problem by putting on my ethologist’s hat and watching the two dogs carefully as they courted. Once I did, I noticed that right before Drift slumped off, his head turned one or two inches toward me. Humm. I moved to the other side, and sure enough, this time Drift’s head turned the other direction, but again toward me. I then put the two dogs in the garage and left them alone. When I came back in five minutes they were tied (and the breeding was indeed successful.) Here’s what I think was happening: Drift was a two-year old intact male when I got him, and just a few days after bringing him home he enthusiastically began to mount and thrust against the leg of a female friend of mine. I said “NO!” in surprise, and said the same a few weeks later when he tried it on another friend. I suspect that Drift remembered that I had corrected him for mounting, and did not distinguish between mounting my friend’s leg from mounting a female dog in heat.

I tell you this story because 1) it still amuses me even many years later, and 2) it illustrates that what we call “mounting” can occur in a variety of contexts and most probably has a variety of motivations. I am writing about this topic because it is one of the ones requested by readers, and I think it is a great one. One comment mentioned that “mounting” is often labeled as a sign of “dominance,” and yet the dog she has that does it most often is extremely submissive in all other contexts. The reader correctly questions whether mounting is really just about the D word…

Which brings up the question: Why do dogs mount others, anyway? Clearly Drift was mounting Tib to copulate with her, but why did he mount the legs of my girlfriends? Dominance? Mis-placed sexual stimulation? Doubtful on all counts. No one really knows why dogs mount others outside of reproductive activity, but here are the best guesses of a variety of experts:

1. Excitement or arousal: I love the way Peter Borchelt, a fellow CAAB, puts it: “There are only so many behaviors a dog has access to, and dogs do what is part of their species-typical behavior.” In other words, arousal causes individuals to want to do something, and since dogs can’t take photographs of each other or check email, one of the actions they can perform when they are excited is to mount each other. Arousal can be positive (yippee!) or negative (I’m so nervous), but it usually, like anger, asks for some kind of action.

2. Attention-getting or play solicitation: Notice me! Notice me! Surely it is hard to ignore a dog who is clasping your hindquarters…..

3. Status related: Certainly this could be true in some circumstances, especially if the mounter in question is also exhibiting postures usually associated with priority access to preferred resources (direct stares, high head and tail postures, etc.) However, Mark Bekoff, in his blog about mounting, mentioned that he found no correlation between mounting, clasping or humping & dominance in young dogs, coyotes and wolves. On the other hand, Camille Ward, in her PhD research, found that mounting was one of the few play behaviors she studied that was”asymmetric,” in that while two playing dogs alternated who chased whom, they did not alternate who mounted whom. Dog A may mount Dog B, but not vice versa.

4. Control: I consider this a very different category than the one above (although I notice that they are often mentioned together.) Here’s an example of what I think of as control-motivated mounting: Dog A observes two others playing enthusiastically, perhaps barking and growling while they do. Dog A is a sound-sensitive dog, or a dog who becomes anxious around increasing energy levels, and so moves in, mounts one dog as a way of stopping the action. We often call these dogs the “play police,” right?

There’s more to this story. How do you define mounting? Does mounting always include clasping and thrusting? What about what is called “Standing Over,” in which one dog stands at right angles to another and puts its forelegs over the shoulders of another dog. Is that a version of mounting, or something different altogether?

If you are interested in reading more about this topic, I refer you to the excellent article written by Julie Hecht (the author of the great blog Dogspies) in Bark magazine and a post by Mark Bekoff also about the topic. If you like watching and evaluating videos, here is one that includes both “standing over” and full scale “mounting” during plays sessions between Willie, and 2 young dogs. I’d love to hear what you think about what you are observing. I’ll check back early next week and chime in myself.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: If I was reading this blog I’d be getting tired of hearing complaints about the weather, and how it was 3 degrees Farenheit yesterday morning and we are all somewhat stunned at the relentless, and untimely grip of winter. So, no more complaints (although you noticed I already managed to do so?), but a few words of concern for the Redwing Blackbird and Starling males who have arrived back from the south in order to claim the best territory before the younger males arrive. They may get the best territory, but then, they may starve to death too, because there is pretty much nothing but snow and ice out there to eat right now. Normally it would be in the mid-40′s and things would be starting to thaw out and even grow.

Here IS some good news: Willie and I pushed the sheep up the snow-covered hill in a desperate attempt to try to work sheep again, weather be damned. The flock, understandably, would have preferred staying in the barn yard, thank you very much, and my lead ewe Barbie turned and faced off Willie, her head down and her message clear. “Come any closer and I’ll smash you.” Willie and Barbie have had a long history together, with Barbie getting the upper hand since his surgery, at least if she felt strongly about not going where Willie told her to. But this time Willie stood firm and met her challenge, and darn if she didn’t soon turn her head and stomp through the snow. Willie will never win points for his inherent bravery (me neither) but he beat her fair and square a few days ago and we both walked down the hill a bit taller than we had walked up it.

More good news, for me anyway, is that I’m going off the grid until Monday. It’s spring break at the university and I’ve decided to attempt to wean myself off my iPad and laptop and desk computer and all other devices that keep me connected to a wonderful world but make it harder sometimes to savor the world immediately around me. Katie will post blog and FB comments, I will absolutely adore reading them all when I return to cyberspace.

My photo for this week is one I took for my photo class, of Nellie looking out the garage window. I love how the “stair step” lines of her head and back follow the lines of the cardboard boxes.

We all know that different breeds of dogs elicit different perceptions about their personalities from the general public: Border Collies are all “smart,” and Golden Retrievers are all “friendly.” These perceptions are sometimes based on facts that are generally true. Border Collies are indeed often clever, and many Golden Retrievers are extremely friendly. However, we all also know that, although, breed stereotypes often have some basis of truth in them, they are just as often incorrect. For a number of years, I saw more Golden Retrievers for biting than any other breed, even though other breeds were as well represented in the local pet population.

We all know that different breeds of dogs elicit different perceptions about their personalities from the general public: Border Collies are all “smart,” and Golden Retrievers are all “friendly.” These perceptions are sometimes based on facts that are generally true. Border Collies are indeed often clever, and many Golden Retrievers are extremely friendly. However, we all also know that although breed stereotypes often have some basis of truth in them, they are often incorrect. For a number of years, I saw more Golden Retrievers for biting than any other breed, even though other breeds were as well represented in the local pet population. I’ve met a couple of Border Collies who appeared to be as intelligent as earthworms.

These stereotypes don’t just apply to positive traits like intelligence and friendliness: the general public attributes negative traits to some breeds, perceiving Miniature poodles, for example, to be foolish and mindless little dogs. At least that is the impression I get when I hear people talk about small poodles, when in my experience, they are smart as whips. Perhaps no breed elicits more stereotypical responses from the public than one of the bully breeds. Recent research by Lisa Gunter, CBCC-KA, CPDT-KA, presented at IFAAB in San Diego, (and soon to be presented at ISAZ) confirmed that people rated photos of a Labradors and a Border Collie as significantly “friendlier, approachable and adoptable” than a pit-bull type dog. All the dogs in the photos, by the way, had relaxed, “friendly” expressions on their face. The subjects (228 people) also rated the pit-bull type dog as higher on “aggressiveness” than the other two breeds. None of this is particularly surprising, given the public’s perception of bully breeds in general. Another study by Protopopova et al also found a negative perception of pit-type breeds (2012 on line): they found that teaching dogs to gaze into potential adopter’s eyes had no effect on rates of adoption, while breed, size, surrender versus stray, and location in the kennel did. “Fighting and Sporting breed” dogs stayed at the shelter longest, while “ratters and lap breeds” stayed the least  amount of time.  (Side note: Research related to adoptability of breeds and public perceptions about them brings up some interesting and  important questions about breed-related predispositions of a number of breeds–not just pit-type dogs. Are any breed stereotypes valid? Both positive and negative? What are the comfort levels in the field about discussing them? This discussion deserves its own post, so I’ll write about that in another article.)

Here is what is most important about Lisa Gunter’s work: After the initial results that rated the dogs of three breeds, subjects were asked to rate the same photo of the pit-bull type dog while sitting beside a variety of people. The subjects were asked to make the same ratings about the dog while sitting beside a young child, an elderly woman, a “rough” male, (the pits) and an “active male,” and a woman in a wheel chair (the BC and Lab). Sure enough, pairing a young child or an elderly woman beside the pit-type dogs changed people’s rating of them. Sitting beside a young child increased the perceptions of the dog’s intelligence, friendliness and adoptability, while decreasing the predictions of “training difficulties and aggressiveness”. Significant changes were found in increased friendliness and decreased aggressiveness. The “rough male” photograph actually decreased the subject’s perception of the dog as friendly, but increased their perception of the dog as intelligent, and the elderly woman had the strongest effect on adoptability. (The “rough male” finding is perhaps the least relevant to applying these results to increasing adoptability of dogs on websites, but I find it interesting. Especially since we joked at IFAAB that the male didn’t look at that “rough” to us. I thought he was sorta hot… just saying.)

Here is the photo of the pit-type dog used in the study:

Here is the same dog beside a child and an “elderly” woman (who looks to be in great shape to me!):

Ideally, some of the variables would have been controlled: same photo of dog, standing versus sitting, etc, but the work does a good job of showing definitively that a particular dog can look more attractive to viewers depending on the photo, and that placement beside a particular type of person appears to have a strong effect.

The practical implications for this are huge, and not just related to any one breed. What this research has shown (along with a similar study by Walsh et al on Labradors, German Shepherd Dogs and Airedales) is that the details of dog’s photograph, say in Petfinders or on a Humane Society website, could have a profound effect on how the dog is perceived, and potentially whether it is adopted or not. We’ve all known (or assumed) that a sharp, clear, color photo of a friendly-looking dog increases a dog’s chance of being adopted, but this research adds an entirely new wrinkle to the mix. Could one increase a dog’s chance of being adopted by showing a photo of it sitting beside a child? Of course, this study didn’t look at actual adoptions, and there is a chance that a perception of friendliness and adoptability won’t translate into more adoptions, but it surely would increase the odds. Kudos for Gunter and Walsh for doing the research they did; I hope it leads to even more studies that expand our understanding that most complex and compelling of topics: the relationship between people and dogs.

I’d love to hear your take on this: What drew you to the dog(s) you have now? Did you find the dog on a website and were drawn to a particular photograph? If so, do you know why?

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Busy times, beginning to get ready for lambing, even though the ground is still frozen solid and we still live in a sea of white. But tomorrow we’ll be mucking out the barn (with the help of some young, strong neighbors, bless them) and I’ll be ordering lambing supplies. The first due date is April 1st, and that is going to come up fast. Usually there is green grass by then, but the chances of that seem to be slight at this point, winter is just not letting go this year.

Willie and I said the heck with winter and worked the sheep up in the high pasture yesterday, it being light enough after I got back from teaching to do so because of the time change. The snow was a bit deep in places, but we moved the girls slowly and I don’t think it stressed them in the least. As a matter of fact, I suspect they need the exercise. Willie and I had a great time, and I’d bet the farm that when we trotted down the farm road to the barn, through the grey-brown and inky black tree trunks, his high tail and head signified something akin to pride.

Before mucking out the barn I’ll go to my Contemplative Photography class. This week’s assignment was on texture. Here is some of my ‘homework,’ taken at a friend’s chicken house when I went to pick up fresh eggs (Thank you Sandi!)

Oh boy, what fun. As many of you know, I’m not doing many more full day seminars anymore, but I couldn’t resist pairing up with the Steve White for a two-day seminar outside of Chicago, Illinois on August 10th and 11th of this year. Thanks to a Facebook reader who jumped in with dozens of others with ideas for a title, we are calling the seminar Sense(s) and Sensibility. Thank you Mairi and kisses to your lovely dog, Layla!

On Saturday, I’ll be doing an updated and expanded version of  “Lost in Translation,” or How Dogs use Sight, Sound, Smell and Touch to Communicate. As usual, I’ll take a comparative approach, looking at the way our sensory systems (notice the focus on vision?!) affect the behavior of the animals at both ends of the leash. The day will be full of slides, videos and demonstrations, including the role of smell in dog-dog interactions, the power of touch (both positive and negative), how to use your voicemost effectively when communicating with your dog, and how to improve your ability to “read” visual signals given by dogs.

On Sunday, the incomparable Steve White will present “What’s the Problem, Five Simple Steps to Fixing Any Behavior or Performance Problem.”  Steve’s presentation will build on Saturday’s material, and is sure to send you off inspired to go home and work with your dog. Steve will argue that most behavioral problems are actually skill deficits, and will present fun, and effective training paradigms that change “failure” into reliability.

Special Sunday Lunch: At lunch on  Sunday, Steve and I will talk about the many routes to becoming an animal behaviorist and/or professional dog trainer. We’ll keep it casual and will be happy to answer any questions of the participants as best we can.

The first 100 people to sign up will be entered into a drawing, two of whom will get $100 off their registration. In addition, signing up five or more people results in a 15% discount on the ticket price. And please, please, if you are a blog reader, come up and say hi!

We picked the location because it is easy to both drive or fly to. It is close to Chicago’s O’Hare airport and at the confluence of several highways in Itasca, Illinois. The hotel is dog friendly and has a shuttle service from the airport to the hotel. Hey… we’ve gone to a LOT of seminars, so we are doing all we can to make this one as accessible and enjoyable as possible.

I’m not foolish enough to guarantee that this will be my last full-day seminar in the US, (never say never, right?) but there won’t be many more, so I hope you can come to this one. I’m loving doing evening fund raisers for shelters now, and am focusing on doing more of those in the year(s) to come. But I simply couldn’t resist pairing up with Steve White. I always learn from him, I love his sense of humor and I can barely wait to get home and work my dog at the end of one of his seminars. Steve has a long career with working dogs; he’s the cop you hope shows up when you need one, and has dedicated his life to promoting positive reinforcement in police dog training and to helping people like us find fun and benevolent solutions to canine behavior problems. We are going to have a ball… be there, or be square!

MEANWHILE, back on the blog: Our IT prince has fixed the bugs, so you shouldn’t see any text cut off anymore. We also redesigned the right hand column and added (as requested) the number of comments for all the recent posts listed. Thanks for all your feedback, you’ve been great!) By the way, if you are having the same problems (text cut off, for example), clear your web cache in whatever server you are using (not the one for your entire computer!) and you’ll see the new version.

Last weekend Jim, Willie, Tootsie and I stayed in a lovely log cabin owned by friends in the woods in eastern Wisconsin. I mention that because for the first time in her nine years of life, Tootsie got to run off leash in an unfenced area off the farm. Wooo Hooo! Some people might not understand what a huge step that was for a little puppy mill dog, but I’m guessing that many of you get it completely. I was over the moon with happiness that I could unsnap the lead, and trust that she would stop when told, come when called, and as importantly, get to sniff and explore with more freedom than she’s ever had in her nine years of life.

The decision I made got me thinking about the issue in general: When IS it safe to let a dog off leash? What do you need to know to evaluate the risk and decide whether to take it? I thought it might be an interesting exercise to list some of my criteria and decision points in regards to Tootsie, and to hear your thoughts and experiences in addition.

I should probably mention here that it is my belief that one of the things dogs want more than anything in the world is a certain amount of autonomy. Some dogs have a ton of it, others almost none, but surely every dog wants to be able to do what she wants to do, when she wants to do it at least some of the time. Being off leash fulfills that to a great extent, but it also puts dogs at the potential of risk. So how does one decide when to unsnap the lead? Here are at least some of the things that need to be considered:

CONTROL: It is something of an irony that the more control we have over our dogs, the more freedom we can give them. Never is that more true when asking if a dog can be safe off leash, and it was the question I asked myself late Friday night when I decided it was 99.999% a sure thing that once off leash and out of the car, Tootsie would sniff around, relieve herself and then immediately come when I called. But how does one know if a dog will come when called in any context?  Ah, you don’t, not 100%, but here’s what I think you need to get to 99.9999%:

STOP ON A DIME: People often assume that all one needs to manage an off leash dog is a good recall, but I’m a big proponent of first teaching a dog to stop on cue. Asking a dog to stop on a dime might be critical for the dog’s safety, and if you think about it, that’s a very different exercise than asking a dog to come back to you. I can’t count the number of times I asked Willie to stop and stand still (I use “Stand,” a cue common in sheep herding that asks a dog to do exactly that: don’t lie down, but stop moving). Perhaps he was starting to sniff beside a partially frozen stream, or I wanted him to wait for me to catch up before he went around a corner on a trail we were walking.

Besides being a handy cue, I’ve learned it is much more effective to ask a dog to stop first before calling him to come back to you, especially if he is moving fast in another direction. Think about it: If a dog is running away from you, in order to back to you she has to 1) stop, 2) turn around and 3) come back to you. That’s three things, right? I’ve found it far more effective, especially with dogs who love to run, to teach them first to stop on cue before asking them to do a recall. It’s not all that hard to do: Just let your dog get a step or two ahead of you and say “Whoa!” or “Stand” and then reinforce with something ridiculously wonderful. Gradually use the cue when the dog is either 1) farther away from you and 2) moving faster. Try to keep those 2 components separate as much as you can, and gradually build up to asking the dog to stop while tearing off in another direction. Manage this carefully though and set your dog up to win: don’t yell “Whoa” when  your beagle is disappearing into the woods after a rabbit if you haven’t gotten full compliance at a much easier level. However, a good stop is not enough…. you also need:

A RIDICULOUSLY GOOD RECALL: Coming when called when there’s no environmental competition simply doesn’t count as a “good enough recall”. One of the reasons I decided to let Tootsie off leash in the woods last weekend is because we have spent several months working on her coming when called while running away from me at a dead run toward something she really, really wanted. I’ve worked on her recall ever since I got her a year and a half ago (if you missed those blogs, she had been a puppy mill brood bitch for 7 years). It took me months to let her off leash at the farm, and then only in specific contexts in which I felt her behavior was completely predictable. But it’s one thing to have a dog come when called in a predictable and consistent context. It’s an entirely different matter to be able to get a dog to come to you when it is already dashing away toward something it wants.

I was lucky here, because the farm provided the perfect set up. First, I have several fenced areas where I could safely let Tootsie off leash and work on her recall. The area around the house and barn is not fenced however, and has a road that runs by about 75 yards from the house, so I was much more cautious about letting her off leash there. In that context I first worked on teaching Tootsie to heel beside me as we walked from the house to the barn. She adores food, and so it didn’t take long to get a reliable response. Then I began asking her to stop or recall when I released her from the heel. I knew she would run straight to the barn, so I had no worries about her safety. I had her favorite food (chicken) in my pocket and asked her to stop the first time when she had just barely left my side. Gradually I began to give the cue when she was farther and farther away from me. Once I could get to her turn on a dime and run back to me even when twenty yards away I began to test it in other contexts. And sure enough, she flipped her little body in mid-air and came running.

CONTEXT: Location, Location, Location. Realtors aren’t the only ones who emphasize the importance of location. There are simply many places I would never let Tootsie off leash. Here’s an example: we went recently to visit a friend who lives in a suburb, with a small lawn between the house and the road. I asked her to potty before we went inside, and never would have considered letting her off leash in that context. Why? Because first, we were just too close to a road for comfort, she could have gotten into the road before I could blurt out a cue. Second, what would be the point? The cost/benefit balance was skewed far to the negative: the risk in no way was worth the pay off. At the cabin however, the closest road was a good 600 yards away,  and the payoff was huge. She got to be a dog off the farm for the first time in her little life, and although I’m sure some people would argue one should never take any risk at all, I’m not one of them. The only 100% guarantee of safety for Tootsie was to live in a cage, and she’d already done that for seven years. Enough is enough.

WHO’S YOUR DOG? If asked to name three things we all needed to consider before letting our dogs off leash, I’d say knowing each dog as a personality is the third. Tootsie spent 7 years in a cage, and didn’t know that the noises people made were meaningful for most of her life. She’s come incredibly far, but she’s still a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel that I got at age 7 who had never been trained to do anything for most of her life. Willie, on the other hand, came with recall software pre-installed. I could just about take him anywhere and let him off leash, although I still don’t take chances, because, really, what’s the point?

NEVER DONE: One last point: Don’t ever stop “training your dog to come.” I still often reinforce Willie for coming when called, sometimes with voice, sometimes with the toss of a toy or letting him chase me as I run away from him.  And I’ll never stop watching Tootsie like a hawk if she is off leash, and reminding her how very, very fun it is to come when called.

Here’s the little girl now, rounding the corner of the barn when I called her back to me from a dead sprint. She looks so serious, doesn’t she? But damn, she sure comes running!

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: A bit of a sad day. We’ve had a doe fawn living in the Orchard Pasture all spring and summer. Something was terribly wrong with her, she clearly wasn’t able to cope with living on her own. She would run smack into the fences at a dead run and was never able to jump them like all the other deer. She did well over the summer when there was a lot of food, but because she stayed in a very small area there was no way she was going to make it through the winter. There was also the concern about coyotes; eventually they would have found her and killed her. And so I contacted a DNR warden who came out, agreed that she was probably blind, and that she would slowly starve over the winter. Deer can’t be captured and re-located (they die of stress, it is horrifically cruel to try to capture and relocate them), and it was inevitable that the coyotes would find and kill her. The warden agreed that she should be put down, and did so humanely with one perfect shot. I know it was the right thing to do, and I know that deer are as common out here as beetles, but oh lordy they are lovely animals, and I’m feeling a big of sadness that such a beautiful thing didn’t make it.

Here she was yesterday:

We all know the signs of imminent danger between two dogs right? Immobile stiff bodies, direct eye contact, round eyes. Except when dogs are playing and then the exact same postures and expressions are nothing but pauses between frolics. That is a perfect example of what’s called meta-communication, or communication about communication.

Here’s a video of Willie and his new friend, Leo–the new pup of Katie Martz here at the office–illustrating meta-communication as well as any two dogs could. I look forward to your comments about it.

First, some background: Yesterday they met for the first time, and it went beautifully. Katie stood 40 feet from the door with Leo as I let Willie out and asked him “Where’s the Dog?” We played tug when he looked at Leo and then back at me. After 2 subsequent “autowatches” in which Willie looked at Leo and looked back at me without prompting (and was reinforced with a tug game for it), I released Willie to go meet Leo. He immediately ran over to Leo, who pilo-erected the fur on a dorsal line from neck to tail a little bit, but stood his ground and allowed Willie to sniff him. After a few short seconds Leo relaxed as Willie sniffed him, and both Katie and I felt sure (we discovered later as we talked about it) that he was about to put his forepaws onto Willie’s back. I wasn’t sure how that would go over with Willie so I said “Go to the barn!” to keep their first greeting positive. It all happened so fast I was acting on gut feeling as much as anything else, having learned with Willie and hundreds of client’s dog to avoid extended greetings between dogs. So Willie dashed off toward the barn and their first encounter went well.

Quickly we moved into a fenced 3 acre pasture, and both dogs got to run together off leash. They played beautifully together, although Leo is too young and small to keep up with grown-up, long-legged Willie. There’s a lot going on in this short video, but first watch how Leo’s long play bows correlate with both dogs standing stock still and staring directly at each other. Those signals, normally signs of trouble are not a problem however, because as meta-communication, play bows signal the other dog that stiff bodies and direct stares are just in fun. Just as a football jersey means a tackle isn’t true aggression (okay, maybe American football is a bad example?!), play bows signal other dogs that any behavior to follow is meant as play. That’s why you see them most often between unfamiliar dogs as they begin to play together.

Watch as Leo does beautiful, clear play bows at second 8, 20 (behind my legs), 118, 126, 148 while he and Willie stand stock-still. I love how both dogs stay still until one does what’s called “start-stop,” that quick little lunge that elicits a reaction. (I do it myself to see what will happen at second 40.) (By the way, YouTube changed its settings–surprise, sigh–so you may see another video after the end of this one. Just ignore until we figure out how to change things around!)

Watch too how Leo runs to me and sits beside my legs at second 30. My interpretation of this behavior is that it’s done by dogs who are a bit intimidated by another. There is a great interaction between the dogs right after that, with Leo doing what looks like an abbreviated muzzle punch at second 33 and then licking Willie’s muzzle.

If you watch the video to the end you’ll see Leo squat and pee, and then turn and look back toward Katie. He’s learned if he pees outside he gets a treat, and boy did he learn that lesson well!

There’s lots going on in this video, I’d love to hear any of your comments about what else you might have observed. If you’d like to read more about play, you might want to go the section in the Reading Room on Play, or check out the Dog Play DVD or Play Together,  Stay Together about play between people and dogs. I’ll look forward to reading your comments, and not to mention welcoming Leo back to play with Willie.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: What a treat for it to be winter! If it’s going to be dark at night darn it, at least it can be crisp and pretty. And it is. I am loving the snow on the ground, although it is not much and melting fast. But it’s sunny and lovely and fresh and your boots crunch on the snow while the Chickadees call CHICKA-DEE-DEE-DEE from the woods. Time to take Willie boy and Tootsie girl on a walk. I hope you have some weather you can enjoy too.

Wow. You all are amazing. So far there have been 165 answers to the question posed two weeks ago, “What’s Your Favorite Non-Traditional Cue?” I’ve read through every one of them with great interest (and often amusement). My plan was to go through all the comments, list every cue mentioned with it definition (some people included as many as 7 or 8), and see if I could  find some patterns.

Several hours later, and less than a fifth through all the cues mentioned, I suspected that a smart person might want to modify the plan. So that’s what I’ve done, whether either out of laziness or wisdom, I couldn’t tell you. I’m using the list I’ve generated so far as a sample, and have re-read all the rest of the comments that have been so thoughtfully provided.

Here’s what I’m seeing so far: First, the most common “non-traditional” cue appears to be “Wait.” It has several variants as to its exact intention, but in all cases the dog is being asked to pause or not move forward. Much more casual and less directive than a stay, I find this an invaluable cue that I myself use every day–at the door, at the car, while walking down a trail, etc. etc. It’s part of the curriculum in Family Friendly Dog Training, so I guess it’s clear that I think it would be good if it moved from “non-traditional” to “traditional.” It’s just so darn handy.

Another category of commonly used cues not often seen in standard dog training is the set of cues telling a dog either that an event is over (“Enough, All Done, All Gone”– ie, no more ball play, no more treats) or to go entertain him or herself (“Settle, Go Settle, Go to Your Place, Chill, Go Pass Out!”) These also seem to me to be incredibly useful cues that all dog owners (and dogs) would profit from knowing.  I use “Enough” several times a day, usually meaning that object play is over, but I as I’m writing this I realized I use a variant, “That’s Enough,” to mean “No more petting.” At first I assumed that Willie didn’t know the distinction, (since I only noticed it while writing this), but perhaps he knew it long before I did?

Notice that, in the variants of Settle, the dog can either decide him or herself to find a place to settle down, or go to a specific area taught in the past. I use Settle myself, meaning go anywhere you want, but for the love of all things good and true, please lie down and chill out for awhile.

The other most common group of cues relate to moving in space: “Turn Around, This Way, Up, Move Over, Back Out, Beep (my favorite!), Go Around,” etc. etc. These strike me as extremely useful as well, although more specific to individual owners and dogs.

One cue, mentioned by a few and one that I have discussed before is “Ready.” I truly wish more people would use this as a way of helping a dog understand what is about to happen. It can be used to prime a dog for action, as it often is in Agility, but also as I use it more often, to let a dog know that something is about to happen, especially if it involves being touched or handled. I use it for Willie when I am about to do something to him, like pick up a paw to dry it off. This gets into another conversation we could have about the balance between keeping cues short and sweet (very valuable at times) and not overwhelming a dog with meaningless chatter AND, at other times, using words to have interchanges with dogs that are more like conversations than a set of “commands.” I’m a fan of both…. Hummm, I’ll have to think about when and why I use different approaches.

While we ponder that, here are some of my favorite cues from the comments about non-traditional cues:

Whoopsie What you just did wasn’t what I wanted, try again.

Who’s a Goof? Roll in the Grass.

Be Bad (Okay, that’s mine, for jump up and put your paws on my chest.)

Who’s a Brave Girl? Go stand between my legs.

Use Your Words or Tell Me Your Story Bark

Sweetheart, can you put your Stagbar on the rug please? Self explanatory!

And What Should You Be Doing? Go lie on your rug

Watch Out for the Panty Hose! 4 on the floor

Chip! Really? As in, did you really just go into the garbage? Dog now puts his paws over his head.

There are a gazillion more, I encourage you to read through them if you haven’t, but it seems appropriate to end on the most unique one I could find:

Gheresh Bede or Farsi for “shake your booty”

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Two inches of rain last weekend! Amazing! Some people got even more (and northern Wisconsin got snow, lots of it. Oh my.) Everything is so green now it’s hard to imagine it was ever brown. My pasture is still in rough shape, but the front lawn looks like it sprung to life except in a few places. All I can say is that the sheep are very, very happy.

Last Friday Willie was in his last sheepdog trial of the year. I’d say the results were mixed. I purposefully only ran a partial course with him in order to protect his shoulder. I leave tomorrow for a sheepdog training clinic with Patrick Shannahan, and I wanted to be extra sure that Willie was sound enough to work in the clinic. I also wanted him to leave the course wanting more, since the last two trials he was in were exceptionally difficult and stressful for all the dogs. This time his first run didn’t start well: Although he’d appeared to focus on the sheep in previous runs, when we walked to the post he kept looking in the direction of another group of sheep. (Your first job at a trial is ensuring that your dog can find the sheep where they are set out. This is harder than you might think. There are two other groups of sheep, and novice dogs often focus on those rather than the tiny little specks out in the distance.) Willie looked at everything but at the sheep he needed to work, and we messed around for what seemed like forever at the post until I finally just gave up and sent him in the belief that he’d go to the wrong group of sheep.

Nope, he did a perfect outrun to the right group, but by then the sheep had broken away from the dog and handler trying to hold them in place (who must have been cursing me, justifiably, believe me).  Willie didn’t get them back on line until he was pretty close to me, but he did, I stopped him, settled the sheep and said “That’ll Do.” He left the field happy and grinning and his shoulder looked good, so we did our second run a few hours later.

This time I sent him right away, and he did a perfect outrun again. Again the sheep broke from the handler  before he got to them, this time not our fault, but probably not the set out handler’s either: they were extremely flighty sheep. Again, Willie didn’t “cover” them, or flank around them far enough to get them back on line. He had no excuse for that, except his nerves: That’s what you see in dogs without enough confidence to directly confront a flock of sheep dead set on thundering back to the barn. He did get them to me however, pacing nicely as he got closer. We did a little drive which went relatively well, and then on the cross-drive Willie stopped, like a 1960′s civil disobedience protester, and stood still while looking at me and ignoring every signal I sent his way. Honestly, it was almost funny, except I’m quite sure Willie stopped because he was too anxious to continue. The sheep had to be moved directly toward the barn, exactly the direction in which Willie knew the sheep wanted to take off and run to. It’s very scary for dogs to feel in control of sheep if the sheep are moving AWAY from them and from their handler, and it takes guts and courage for dogs to learn to drive unfamiliar sheep on unfamiliar courses at a good distance from their handlers.

Ah, you know how much I love my Willie Boy, but I’m afraid “guts and courage” are not words one would use to describe him. The “Woody Allen of Sheepdogs” would be more like it: brilliant but ridden with angst. We’ll see how the clinic goes this weekend. I don’t want to run Willie in trials if they just distress him, but I would like learn to help him be as good as he could be. Even though his work at the trial had some serious flaws, we did well enough that we didn’t leave feeling badly. He seemed upbeat and happy all day, I had a good time and got some good experience under my belt. I can’t wait for the clinic, it should be lots of fun and very interesting. And to those of you who were there, I still can’t stop singing “Keep rolling, rolling, rolling, keep them doggies rolling, RawHIIIIIIIDE.” Sigh.

Things at the farm are good. It’s still gorgeous even though many of the leaves have fallen. We got another half inch of rain yesterday… will wonders never cease? Tootsie is a happy girl, except for this morning, during which she spent part of the time in the kitchen sink because she had diarrhea all over herself. And me. You all know how that goes. I think it was just a glitch, that she’ll be fine in the future, and am oh so grateful that I can wash her off in the sink. Very handy at 6 am in your bathrobe.

Nellie and Polly are good. Too good. Polly took one look at her momma being put into a carrier crate in order to go to the vet clinic for vaccinations, and darted up a tree. Here she is: Wanna play Find the Kitty? (And don’t worry, she was down the minute we came home and I let her mum out of the crate.)

As if any of us REALLY knows “what it all means,” right? But thank you for your interesting and thoughtful comments about the previous post’s video of Willie and the “Get Back” signal. They were great.

I’ll cut to the chase about my own interpretation. Here’s the data: Willie tongue flicks when I ask him to back away from somewhere or something he wants to go toward: the outside of the house, into the car, or toward the toy. All of these have been taught using lots and lots of reinforcement with food and play and “life rewards,” like going outside after I say “Get Back” or getting the toy as soon as he backs up (But  I don’t reinforce every single response every single time once he has a cue down pat. That would be unnecessary in my opinion, not to mention completely impractical.) But back to the tongue flicks:

The only time in the video when Willie doesn’t tongue flick after “Get Back” is he is directly facing the sheep, who are backed into a corner. Two highly relevant facts that can help us interpret his behavior are:

One, I’ve never used food to teach it in that context (sheep), I have in all the others. Is it possible that he has a classically conditioned response to the cue because it so often resulted in food? I thought that was an interesting comment from a reader. I think this bears considering, but, see # Two….

Two, (and I think in this case MUCH more relevant) Willie dislikes what is called “contact” with the sheep (not physical, think metaphysical) and is stressed by face-to-face confrontations with them. Did you see how quickly he backed away (see second 120) when I said “Get Back” in that context?  That’s because he is relieved. In this case he’d be likely to tongue flick when I said “Walk Up,” not “Get Back.”

Thus, I am inclined to agree with those who argued that Willie’s tongue flicking is displacement behavior. In all the cases in which he tongue flicked, he wanted to go forward, but couldn’t, so he did something else. What he did could be interpreted as a sign of low-level anxiety, stress or frustration, or as appeasement behavior. I experimented (have you with your own dogs yet?) and looked for tongue flicks in a variety of contexts and after a variety of cues. Lie Down and Sit all got tongue flicks. Come forward and touch my hand, pick up the toy, come to me, find the toy, and high five did not.

Willie appears to tongue flick when he wants to move forward but is asked to do the opposite. Is he stressed? I could well be wrong, but I don’t think so, at least not in the way the term is usually used. “Stressed” on Willie’s face is easy to read, and involves pinched facial muscles, ears flat and a look in his eyes somewhere between Tippi Hedren in Hitchcock’s The Birds and Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs. Is he thrilled about being asked to back up? Nope.

Notice how immediately before and after the tongue flicks, Willie’s body stays loose, his mouth open and he generally has on what I call his happy face. Would he rather go forward at the door, into the car, toward his toy? Yes. Would I rather eat ALL the chocolate in the cupboard right now? Yes. Am I stressed because I am not allowing myself to do so, with some inner voice firmly saying “Trisha, Get Back?” No. That’s my interpretation. Now that we all know more, what do you think?

A few more points in relation to your comments, and a reminder of what a great exercise these videos can be for us all. Several people commented about Willie, at second 24, sliding under my legs toward Tootsie as I am about to lift her into the car. There were some interesting guesses about what is going on here, but I can tell you with confidence that Willie is taking the opportunity to sniff her butt “under the radar.” He still primarily pretends that she doesn’t exist (and vice versa). They can eat off of the same plate if offered to lick our dinner plates, and she can dance on his head when greeting us and he has no visible reaction. He is remarkably tolerant of her (and her him). But they still do not acknowledge each other, and sneak in sniffs in rare moments, only when the other’s head is busy.

Some of you also commented about Willie’s dash away from the car door after I put Tootsie inside (second 40) and interpreted it as fear. Not a chance in this case, he was running in joy to the barn. Willie has learned that unless other cues have occurred (Tootsie’s car harness on, his travel collar on), Tootsie going into the car crate means we are going to the barn to work sheep.  Even though I think he often finds it stressful, he appears to love working the woolies as much as life itself.

And one last quick comment, just by way of explanation: Willie’s Stay signal means “Stay in place (not posture) until I give you a release.” Willie’s Wait signal means “Pause momentarily and then do what you want.” If he is still not moving once I’m ready for him to move on, I’ll say “Okay” just to get the ball rolling again. But it’s his choice, Wait just means pause. If I want him to not move until I give him a release I say Stay. I find that useful, myself. You?

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: We began last weekend with a rough day on Friday. Willie was entered into our second “big” sheepdog trial on Friday, and did the worst he’s ever done. It was, granted another really tough trial, with a tough course, tough sheep and with wind and rain blowing into my face. Willie improved tremendously on our second run, but I did the worst I’ve ever done and made two ridiculous mistakes. Ah well. But then we gloried in a perfect fall weekend: blue sky, dry air, ideal temperature &light breeze. I’m talking calendar cover weather, here, and boy did we deserve it after such a brutal summer. I planted asters and dug weeds and cooked, Jim cut down tree-sized Ragweed to help my allergies, finished a new wagon to transport the sheep and we generally puttered and watched sports on TV and relaxed. Heaven for us all.

Here’s an interesting video for you to analyze. Katie and I were taping one of my favorite signals, “Get Back.” I use it in a variety of contexts, and can’t imagine life without it. You can see some of the ways I use the cue on the video below, and I’ll talk more later, if you’d like, about why I love the cue so very much.

After we taped, Katie and I were watching the video and I said “Oh wow, did you see how he [---] right after [---] happens? (Fill in the blanks!)

And so, that’s your assignment (should you decide to accept it Agent 99): Watch this video and tell us what we might have found interesting in it. I’m giving no more instructions than that… Who knows then what you might find that we didn’t! I’ll jump in early next week (and will answer comments sooner) about what we found so interesting, and as importantly, what we think it might mean. I’m guessing that this could lead to a very interesting discussion!

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Willie clearly lost some confidence after working the almost immovable sheep at the trial last weekend, so I’ve been working on building it up. I’ve been encouraging him to come up, come on, keep them doggies moving… (This is where you burst into song, singing “Raw-hiiiiiiide” at the top of your lungs.) I’ll let you know how it’s going. Poor Mr. Willie boy, you know how much I love him; and that includes knowing who he really is: A slightly crazy, people-loving, hyper-reactive, sound-sensitive, fun-loving creature who lacks confidence in a variety of settings. I’ve always known he’ll never be a national level sheepdog trial competitor, but I love him more than I can say, and love him even more than that for trying so hard.

Here’s a photo of me and Willie a friend took (thanks Rich!) several years ago when we were at a sheepdog clinic (the first time I was able to let Willie greet unfamiliar dogs.. what a huge step that was for him!) It’s hard to imagine that he was out of the game for over a year and a half since then!

I originally called this post “Barbie’s Not Always a Nice Girl,” but then I thought about what the title would look like on Google and the kind of people who’d click on it. Hmm, not really my “brand,” as they say.

I thought though, that you’d be interested in yet another interaction between Barbie, my cantankerous, lead ewe and Willie. Barbie, as you may recall, is the only sheep who has ever seriously challenged Willie. She won a few times when she had three-week old lambs this spring, literally chasing Willie away, her anvil-like head down and ready to bash Willie into the ground. He ran away like a frightened chipmunk, because Barbie was serious, and because we all know she can be a witch, and because well, he’s just not the bravest dog in the world. That’s partly why I love him so much, because he’s not perfect and neither am I, and he still tries his best, and when I’m being who I want to be, so do I.

Here are photos I took just a few minutes ago (Willie is still panting rapid fire at my feet.) First we found the sheep lolling in the shade of the woods on a steep hill between the barn and the main pasture. Barbie was lying by herself under a dead tree.

Soon after I took this photo she grudgingly got up (who could blame her? — it’s mid day and hot outside) and trotted down the hill with the others toward the barn. Willie picked them up (eventually, more on that later) and we moved them into the Orchard pasture and practiced driving a little bit.

In this next photo you can see, as is often the case, Barbie being the last to move away from Willie and turning  her head toward him. I imagine her saying something like “Your mother eats kitty litter.”

Willie stood his ground, good boy, and here’s the result: Barbie turned away and began walking forward.

You might ask yourself at this point: “I get the Barbie and Willie title, but what’s with the mad dogs and Englishmen in the title? Simple: Remember “mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun?” (Words in an old song for those of you not familiar.) We were working in the noonday sun, and I’m wondering if I had a mad dog. Not “mad” as in with rabies, but “mad” as if angry.

We all know how often people wrongly assume their dog is being disobedient because they were “mad” at them. Usually it’s confusion or mis-understandings or pain or fear or anything beside the fact that some dog is ticked off at its owner. But, here’s my question to you: Can it EVER be true, even if rarely? Are dogs ever truly irritated by their owners, especially while doing difficult work? I wondered this while I was working/photographing Willie for this post. He behaved atypically: he didn’t listen as well, he seemed slow and disconnected. But more than that, he gave me a look a few times that was hard to interpret as anything but some canine equivalent of a finger. There are several reasons he could have been off his game: We’ve been working on driving for an upcoming trial, and it’s difficult, tiresome work. I think it’s stressful to dogs (constant whistle signals given out 2-3 to a second), and especially to dogs like Willie who don’t like being in constant contact with the sheep.

In addition, during the “photo shoot” the sheep got all the way back to the barn before Willie could round them up again, in part because I was busy taking that first photo of  Barbie. It’s hard work running down the steep forest floor, going into the small, enclosed area of the barn and forcing the sheep back up the hill. He wouldn’t have had to do it if I’d been paying more attention. Hummm.

It’s far more likely that Willie was tired from our work of the past few days, or maybe his shoulder was hurting. But that look he gave me started me thinking: Although most attributions of anger as a motivation for disobedience are undoubtedly incorrect, are they always? Have you had an experience in which you had good reason to believe that your dog was irritated by your behavior? I’m curious.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Today is all about wrapping up work and leaving for the WWSDA herding dog trial up in northern Wisconsin this weekend. Willie and I run in our first big Pro-Novice course  against some of the best dogs and handlers in the country. The outrun will be 250 to 300 yards, the drives through 2 drive panels ridiculously far away and over my skill set, and the sheep have never been worked by dogs until the day before. If we get numbers (ie, a score) versus letters (ie DQ for Disqualified or RT for Retired) I’ll be satisfied. If we get in the top half (there are about 42 entries) I’ll be thrilled. If we do any better than that I’ll be over the moon. Tonight I’m going to work Willie when it’s cooled down, and just ask him to do some simple, easy outruns. Then tomorrow he won’t work all day, so he should get a good rest. He deserves it.

I know several of you compete in a variety of dog-related sports, from Agility to Sheepdog Trials. You’ll understand then when I say that all I really want is to not let my dog down.  I have worked with dangerous dogs for decades, but standing at the post about to run my dog is a million times more nerve wracking to me. I am basically a lousy competitor because I get so nervous, but yet some strange compulsion is getting me back into the sport. So cross your paws that I don’t throw up at the post in front of all the other handlers, and am able to keep my senses about me enough to handle my good dog Willie as well as he deserves.