So, last year Jim built me some beautiful raised beds so that I could grow veggies without fighting the jungle of weeds that encroach all my gardens like an advancing army. The beds are so high that I don’t have to bend over to tend them—Jim actually had to make one shorter when I realized I wouldn’t be able to reach the top of the peas without a ladder. We filled the bottoms with logs, and the top 2/3 with expensive soil that the dirt dude, who was highly recommended, guaranteed me would be perfect for growing vegetables.
And then I made a foolish mistake and didn’t have the soil tested, it looking rich and black and wonderful. And thus, the results are a testament to the inevitable duo of gardening: triumph and failure. The chard is luxuriously healthy, and the peas have a necklace of delicate white flowers about to turn into tasty, crunchy pods. The onions, however, squeezed up a single stalk, as thin as a human hair, and then sat in misery for a month. The carrots sprouted their two tiny cotyledons, and then froze as if they weren’t alive, only a photograph.
I walked down there this morning, measuring the beds to figure out how much phosphorus to add (the gardeners among you have already figured out that the soil is, at the very least, deficient in phosphorus), feeling very philosophical about it all. I’d been kicking myself for not getting the soil tested, but have evolved into remembering that gardening is like that: Full of failures and successes. You learn that pretty fast when you get into gardening: Some things work, some don’t. You just keep plugging away, stop making one kind of mistake and swap it for another. Other times, no mistake necessary, stuff just happens. Perhaps the tree you bought wasn’t aware that where you put it was PERFECT for what the tree was supposed to need, and died on you the week the guarantee from the nursery was over. (I’m talking to you, Serviceberry.) Or the Zinnia seeds that never sprouted, for no reason whatsoever, except that they decided that you didn’t deserve them.
Experienced gardeners get used to it: Some things work. Some things don’t.
You might wonder why I’m writing this in a blog about animal training and our relationship to dogs and other companion animals. A reasonable question. I starting with gardening, because while walking back to the house, it struck me that animal training is no different than tending to other living things, like dog training. We all have moments of something we’ve been working on turning out well, our own personal thrill of victory—the bird dog who, after a year of training, ignored the chickens! The dog who lost it when even seeing another dog down the street sent her into hysteria, who now has a bevy of play partners!
But we all have the other side, the “failures,” the mistakes, the behaviors that never changed, no matter how hard we tried; the lessons we thought we’d learned, but hadn’t. This is just life, right? Who can be perfect, or right, or successful all the time? And yet, we can be soooo hard on ourselves when things don’t work out as we wanted, or expected, or dreamed. And don’t many of us pay more attention to our failures than our successes?
Most of us do. It’s a thing. It’s called the Negativity Bias,and has been studied by psychologists for decades. It makes sense that our brains and limbic system remember negatives over positives from an evolutionary perspective: Good things are rarely dangerous, but bad things might be. It’s easy to oversimplify it–remembering where the water hole is could indeed save your life, but it’s more likely that forgetting that’s where the predators lurk will get you killed.
Examples are everywhere. Just look at the news, which, if you analyze it thoughtfully, is overwhelming focused on negative things. Why is a car crash more newsworthy than a scientific breakthrough? And why does The book Anna Karenina famously begin with “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” It’s been taken as gospel ever since. Except it’s not true. Why would all happy families be alike? They aren’t, but unhappy families are more interesting to read about, because we are hard wired to pay attention to conflict. Conflict is drama, and that is what gets the clicks, the TV show renewed, and the pages of the book turning.
Like me, I suspect you see this Negativity Bias all around you, in dog sports and family dog training. I’ve had wonderful clients who can’t stop beating themselves up for one small mistake they made, when otherwise they’ve moved heaven on earth for their dog. And, like me, I suspect you can fall into it yourself. I just did it myself recently, when I yelled No!, harshly, to Skip when, 1) he was actually doing the right thing, and 2) who cares what he was doing? Herding dog handlers have to raise their voices when their dogs are a long way away, but yelling harshly, in anger, is not something I ever, ever want in my repertoire. Especially if the dog was right to begin with. I knew it happened because I was exhausted and stressed, but it’s occurrence took up a ridiculously disproportionate amount of my mental energy. I ruminated about it for days, when 99.99999% of the time Skip and I had worked seamlessly together. Based on his behavior, I’d guess that Skip shook it off within seconds.
This last weekend, Skip and I ran in a small trial and were both at our best. His runs weren’t perfect, but he listened beautifully, our mistakes were small glitches, and it all felt like floating downstream. We got our best score ever on Sunday, and I would bet the farm that he was as pleased as I was after we were done. And, I could also guarantee you that normally I would give that success far less psychological energy than the time I spent in angst about the mistake I made a few weeks ago.
But not this time. We can all counter this negativity bias, but we have to do it consciously. There are a lot of ways to counter this bias, including starting by being aware of it. That’s my suggestion for our village right now–why don’t you join me and comment about two things? First, a mistake you made with your dog. It doesn’t have to be earth shattering, just something you’ve done that you wish you’d done differently. Get it out there so it doesn’t fester in the dark. Remind yourself that mistakes are made all the time, and they are rarely as big a deal as we think they are. (Defeats do not have to be agony!!) Counter with a success that deserves attention. Again, it might be something small, but something that is worthy of attention, maybe more than it’s gotten before. Because, our successes DO deserve attention right, even if they are small? They don’t need a score or a prize, they just need our attention and our acknowledgement that they matter.
I’ve already given you mine, your turn now. (Note: My list of mistakes could go on for days, but I’ll spare you.) I can’t wait to celebrate with you!
MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Jim got some photos of our run on Sunday; this first photo is of him early in his outrun. I just love the power conveyed. (The other dog in the photo is actually holding Skip’s sheep out of the frame on the right. It might look like Skip is running the wrong way, but his outrun was actually lovely; the dogs need to go around in a wide circle to avoid moving the sheep before they are in position.)
We made all of our panels both runs, here’s Skip sending them through the 2nd set of panels on the cross drive. The cross drive has been the hardest section of the trial for us, and both times it was smooth, very close to on line, and sort of gorgeous. I’ll savor that for awhile.
Pretty sweet shade, thanks to Jim putting up our Pop Up. (Yes, Skip and Maggie are watching a run!)
I’ll leave you with something I posted on Facebook lately:
Michelle says
At our first two agility trials, we ‘blew the Q’ in the first run of both, and Poppy went visiting the volunteers in the third run of both (but also Q’d). In those first runs, both of us made mistakes, and in those third runs it would be easy to get a little embarrassed by her losing focus, but we’re having fun!
LisaW says
In thinking about this terrific prompt, I realize that I credit Olive with all the successes, and of course, I own the defeats. I still have a hint of regret when I think of my overall skills and capacities for working with a dog-with-issues.
Well, this dog in particular who I credit with carrying so much and throwing so much of it away as we learned together over the years. It’s a stretch for me to acknowledge I played a part (even though I am the one with opposable thumbs).
One defeat I have is pushing her too far in the beginning. I was trying to go at her pace, but I would get impatient, and my rationale was, if we moved past whatever it was that was scary or worrying, we could get to the next step which was much less worrisome. Not listening to her but going by a timeclock in my own mind. I think it set us back, and we didn’t pick up from where we left off, but from a place that was further back and even more troublesome to her.
Our first success was many years ago. Olive would eat grass on occasion and it didn’t all come out when she pooped. Well, on this day, Olive came over to me and presented her butt and the protruding blade of grass and waited patiently while I extracted said blade of grass. This was a dog who had her tail cut off and would not let anyone near her hindquarters. It was a victorious moment that will live in my memory for as long as I have one.
Our biggest success is that now she often makes really good decisions. For example, she will remove herself from a situation if it’s too much. She will go to our bedroom or her bed in another room and settle in. She no longer feels like she must react or respond; she trusts we’ve got it.
Wow, those pictures of Skip are so full of motion and energy. Incredible muscle tension. And didn’t you already know Jim was a keeper 😊 And, a question about your garden: What type of logs did you put in the bottom, and what type of wood are the frames made from? My first thought was leaching and not the soil.
Frances says
I trained puppy Freddy to use pads – much more convenient for me at the time and, I thought, a useful skill to keep for use in emergencies. Trouble is his idea of an emergency and mine don’t always coincide now that he is two and has decided that various (fortunately easily cleaned) spots around the house are suitable poo spots if I fail to take him out at exactly the right moment. On the other hand not having to drag myself upright out of bed; find a dressing gown; crawl downstairs; sort out leash, torch, poo bags, and shoes; wander around in the dark and (usually) rain until he finds the right spot; and then crawl back up the stairs to bed has been a major bonus, especially since I hurt my back earlier in the year. Perhaps it is part of him being the youngest – I am far less demanding of him in many ways, and much more prepared to just let him be a dog.
And part of that is accepting that Freddy is simply not as well behaved as my neighbour’s young Lagotto – his first dog for many years, trained constantly to focus on him, walk happily at his side, ignore other dogs, come instantly, and generally be a model of good behaviour. Freddy finds him intensely irritating and seems to go out of his way to be snarky and annoying whenever he sees him, much to my embarrassment – I am meant to be the experienced, knowledgeable dog owner and I have a brat! But then we go down by the river and Freddy runs off to explore, digs for stones in the water, runs races with elderly Sophy and at regular intervals dashes back to me to check in and I decide that perhaps I am doing something right – he has far more autonomy than the Lagotto, and mostly uses it well.
lak says
My dog passed positive obedience training after many treats and praises, followed by the vet saying she must lose weight, all those treats went to her hips! Yep, your Jim is certainly a keeper. Love the dialogue between you two, and the photos of the dogs are beautiful!
Beth says
Loved how you made the connection with gardening and dog training!
I’ve found that while it takes work at first, focusing on the positive makes humans and dogs happier.
My example:
When competing with a new dog for the first time: I loved how I got my whistle tones right and Rocky responded to them, but I need to work on keeping him on his feet and walking into the sheep.
Lisa says
Years ago running in one of my first sheepdog trials I lost the sheep to the repen when I didn’t make certain my dog covered that side.
I vowed to not make the same mistake the next day!
The next day I was the first dog to run. This time I lost the sheep to the setout pens.
Since I was the first dog there were no sheep in the repen area, hence NO draw there at all!!
After the first day my dog understood where the sheep were held on both ends of the field, if I’d left her alone she’d have figured it out…..
MJ Marijane Moss says
There have been many mistakes since, but one that echoes still is my first obedience trial with one of my Westies…about 1955. I was nervous, it was a large indoor venue in the days of benched shows and very loud. The judge was a kind man who could see my angst. Jodie did very well through on-and off-lead heeling, the stand was fine. I left her for recall. She held the sit, looked ‘ ready’, but when I called, did not budge. The judge said,” call again”, I raised my kid voice and bellowed ” COME”, she tore across the ring to me, sat straight and flipped to heel like a pro. Judge said quietly, ” you have to think about where you are for your dog.” We aced the stays, did not qualify, of course. But next 3 trials finished her CD with ribbon scores. Good judge probably saved my lifelong involvement with training.
Of course, Carolyn Wilki added layers of improvement along w/ you and others in the PR move.
Elaine Wallace says
This post is exactly what I need today. Thank you. My life is such a crazy up and down ride that it resembles a length of rickrack!!!
My mistake is when I took my “bomb proof Golden Retriever Dazzelle to do a little demo in front of a new class I was teaching. We stood in the middle of that circle of students and their dogs. Feeling very cocky, I ask Dazzelle for a sit. She looked up at me for a heartbeat and walked away!!!! I deserved that. I did not even think about the context of being in the middle of a circle of strangers with their dogs. Humbled me!!!
My success is my ongoing time with a Beauceron puppy named Valor. I am listening to him instead of him listening to me. He is a complete delight!!
Margaret Tucker says
My years old clematis leafed out as usual, then two weeks ago, just died. I probably should soil test before I replace it. Which reminds me of my choice of a “replacement” dog who is now 14. I wanted a dog who could do agility, so I had an instructor look at her. Well physically she could do agility, but temperamentally she couldn’t. It was too frantic. It took me too long to realize that and try rally instead, where she was much happier. Sorry, Sashi!
Trisha says
Elaine: “Life as a length of rickrack.” Brilliant!!!! Congratulations of your successes!
Trisha says
Love this Lisa! On Sunday I gave Skip a flank as we approached the cross drive panels. He didn’t take it, and he’d taken everything I’d asked for both days. Shockingly, I had the sense to stop and think before saying anything. Yeah, he was right, I had been wrong. Knowing when to leave them alone. . . should be considered the most advanced skill in herding!
Trisha says
Beth, yes yes, you are so right that focusing on the positive makes dogs happier to. Good luck at Rush Creek!
Trisha says
lak: Ah, the treats. I try to decrease their dinners when I’m doing a lot of training (success), but Maggie is still a little, uh, pudgy (failure).
Trisha says
Frances: Oh, I love love this story! And it cracks me up that Freddy finds the teacher’s pet to be irritating. What a wonderful life Freddy has to explore the riverside and be free. Seems to me that matters more than anything.
Trisha says
LisaW: Love love the story of Olive’s butt presentation. The ultimate in trust (and something only us dog lovers would cherish!). Creating a world in which Olive has learned to remove herself from trouble is a testament to your hard and thoughtful work. A triumph, truly, no exaggeration now. And, re the garden, I too thought of the wood surrounding the soil as being a factor. Could be too, cuz the soil test showed slightly low Nitrogen (which could be effected by the wood), very low Phosphorus (just added), and okay Postassium. Cross your paws. The good news is the Chard is still going crazy and the peas are a-popping!
Trisha says
Michelle: Fun is the name of the game! Good good good for you for remembering that this IS a game!
Terrie says
I give into my dog’s fussing for food. It’s terrible, I know. He’s overweight and on diet food, and gets carrots for treats to the point where he poos orange (makes for easy yard clean up), but he totally has me trained.
Kamila says
There are unfortunately many many mistakes I have made with my Monty. When we first adopted this shy, sensitive, under socialized, smart as a whip, fearful 8 months old, my aim was to train him to be a “perfect” human companion. You know, the ones you see on tv programs, “nice and rehabilitated”. Second mistake was choosing wrong trainer, who used aversive training methods. Third mistake I listened to my friend, who pushed my dog’s ear when he had a raging ear infection and was telling me that he tried to bite her face and only thanks to her quick reflex she was able to defend herself and prevent a bite. Her constant insistence that I’ve a dangerous dog, who tried to bite her face or neck on top of a bad trainer and other people’s opinions made me scared of my own dog. So mentally I resigned myself to having a dangerous dog (who has NOT bitten anyone) and spent minimal time with him. Until I’ve decided to pick up training books from yourself, Jean Donaldson, Pat Miller etc. the most important thing I’ve learned was to work WITH Monty, let him be as much of a dog as I can and enjoy myself. Who cares if Monty isn’t perfect. Who is? All I care about now is that we both have fun and enjoy spending time together. On top of his reactive training I make sure we do tricks, scent work and I also teach him how to help me around the house (picking things up, stripping bedding etc). I think thanks to my mistakes I’ve learned how to understand and appreciate dogs. And I’m very lucky that Monty has forgiven me despite our rough start. We may have a long way to go, but we are having fun along the way and accept our human and dog traits.
Gwen says
My best girl “Saydee” was a really reactive youngster…people, dogs, trucks, buses, motorbikes, roller blades, bicycles etc, etc, which made it really difficult and unpleasant to go walking or exploring. She is still a barker. I tried ignoring, diverting her attention and even trained her to bark on cue but still at 13 she barks at people on the street, mail and delivery people. Now the great part, she loves to go exploring and out for walks. I spent her first 3 years walking around with a fanny pack of the best treats and did hours upon hours of counter conditioning. Our favourite time together is out walking because for the past 10 years now when she spies a noisy garbage truck, someone on a bike or roller blades etc., she immediately turns to focus on me instead and as the objects pass by and she quietly redirects to me I slip her a favoured liver treat. She has overcome so much….we put up with barking when the mail gets delivered.
Barb Stanek says
The fresh mistake that comes to mind was letting my one and a half year old Portuguese Water Dog enjoy a romp at the pond before working on our water work training. He romped and romped and romped, and I loved watching his joy and enthusiasm! Problem: he did not want to work. No way, no how. Dah. The joy that day did not end for him.
Next water training day, he started the day at the pond by walking to the pond on leash with me. Then he did some beginner exercises in the water. Then he walked back to the vehicle on a leash with me. I was so pleased with his almost-perfect attention and his try!
Then he got to romp with his Griffon friend. And they romped and romped and romped. I have been savoring the good work he put in and the joyful romp in that order!
Donna says
Oh Tricia, perfectly timed for me lately, as my 2.5 year old banshee of a golden retriever Linus and I continue to struggle on loose leash walking. My failure was for his first more than 1 year I prioritized his play time with our neighbor dog friend Phoebe over walking- their rough & tumble play sessions totally took the energy edge from him, which allowed me to have a calmer rest of the day/evening. This was also after losing my 2 sweet, old goldens 5 months apart from each other -I had little emotional reserve to give Linus what he really needed, didn’t have an adult dog to help teach him/lead him either & so I kept us in a almost daily loop of play & practicing other obedience skills besides walking. I didn’t have in me to walk with him as I kept seeing the neighborhood through the walks I had with Shasta and Spencer. I realize now that not practicing on his walking had led us to the struggle we face now. The success is the absolute joy & contentment he experiences when he has time to play with Phoebe ( and her joy too!), along with the genuine friendship they have created.
Donna says
My failure would be not practicing loose leash walking with my now 2.5 year old banshee of a golden retriever Linus. Instead, for almost all of his life, I prioritized having almost daily play & rumpus sessions with our dog neighbor Phoebe to help work off some of Linus’ abundant energy; after those play sessions would have been the perfect time to practice walking but I didn’t. After losing my 2 sweet, old goldens 5 months apart of each other, I didn’t have it in me to walk the same neighborhood streets that I shared with Shasta & Spencer for over a decade. The victory is the sweet friendship that Linus has created with his friend Phoebe.
Gayla says
I had been 3 weeks without a dog. I didn’t know how to be in my own skin. I felt like I couldn’t breathe!
The breeder tried to warn me. “Echo was leery of people and had fought with her littermates constantly,- always as the aggressor.” But I was desperate and wouldn’t listen. I worked diligently to CC her to humans, but convinced myself that her dog reactivity was beyond my ability to change. I gained success with the former, but naturally failed with the latter. (If you think you can’t do something, you’ll be right.)
I hardly think twice about her being safe around people now, but still feel like an epic failure as a dog trainer when she explodes at the sight of another dog too close to her. Sigh.
Thank you so much for the links and downloadable PDF’s about Negativity Bias and ways to train our brains to more helpful thinking.
Trisha says
Great story Barb, and an easy mistake to make! Premack principle in action!
Trisha says
Gwen: A triumph with Saydee! No failure there, just the reality of what we can do!
Trisha says
Kamila: Monty is a lucky, lucky dog. Wrong initial trainers and advice yes, but that’s on you, not them. I’m sooo glad that you found resources that are both effective and kind. I’m still amazed sometimes at our species’ propensity to use aversives as the only option.
Carole says
I adopted Jax when he was around three months old. He had been born feral (found with his mom and four littermates in the woods of Oklahoma). Obviously, he’d had zero interaction with humans and he was terrified of everyone. My mistake was in assuming I could easily ‘fix’ him. After all, I’d been working with problem dogs for years with a good success rate. At the puppy class we attended, Jax spent his time trying to become one with the wall. Though he has always been comfortable with all dogs, he was so scared of their owners that he was shaking. Attempting to force him into interaction only made things worse. Our trainer pointed out that ‘flooding’ the dog with what he fears does not work. In fact it makes things worse. Imagine you are absolutely terrified of spiders and someone locks you in a dark closet filled with them. You wouldn’t ‘get over’ your fear… you’d probably just go insane. I had to let go of all the forceful training methods I had learned years ago. Only time and patience would work. Jax will be seven years old next month. He has come a long way, but is still leery of strangers. He puts himself in his crate when there are people here he doesn’t know well, and checks the house carefully after they have gone. (He seems to think that furnace repair guy might be hiding in one of the rooms, laying in wait to kill him.) He will never be an outgoing dog, but that’s okay. He has his skills. Family and friends bring their dogs to play with him. He greets every new dog as a long lost friend, and is ecstatic to play with each one of them. He is happiest chasing squirrels with his pack mates, and when it’s just us here (me and my three other dogs), he is a silly, happy, affectionate dog. Once I stopped trying to make him into something he could never be, we both relaxed. I resolved to let him go at his own pace. It took years before he felt comfortable enough with my grown sons to accept a brief pat. He even ‘sings’ to those he knows are friends. I celebrate every small victory and love him just the way he is.
Trisha says
Carole: That’s a triumph with Jax! Congratulations. And I hear you about the early mistakes. What’s that famous line about animal training: “We learn by regret.”
Melanie Hawkes says
Some days I’ve felt that keeping Upton was a mistake. He was supposed to make my life easier as my assistance dog, but his reactivity made it impossible to take him out. Even now when he barks at a pet dog while out walking (and the pet doesn’t bark back), it’s easy to get annoyed at Upton. But I taught him to pick up rubbish on walks, and now wonder “well, the pet dog didn’t bark, but how much rubbish did it pick up?” Always better to focus on the good Upton does than the few barks he might do.
And yes the garden analogy really works. I do bonsai. Every now and then one tree will die, or look worse than the others – for no apparent reason. Just have to keep trying.
Chris from Boise says
Our years with our beloved, highly reactive, dear departed Habi taught us about celebrating the most miniscule of successes and letting go of even the worst failures. That was the foundation of our relationship, once a behaviorist sent us off on the right track (I still apologize to Habi’s memory for all the mistakes I made before we were sent to the behaviorist). It was life-changing for all of us. So I love this post and all the comments.
Failure: A few days ago, our timid Rowan climbed into a large flowerpot I was planting with cosmos and marigolds. I angrily bellowed “NO!” – we don’t use that word much, so when we do, it carries power – and saw her shrink into her shadow, tail clamped to her belly. Then I noticed the darkening skies presaging a storm, and realized she had only been asking to go inside to her safe spot. Had I paid attention to her nudges she wouldn’t have had to demand my attention.
Success: Because we’ve worked hard to build Rowan’s resilience, our relationship was only slightly dinged by the above failure.
Double success: When someone knocks at the door, I can use my happy voice – even through a chorus of barking – to remind both border collies to run to their dens. And because I can muster that happy voice, it cuts through their frenzy and reminds them “opportunity for Really Good Treats” and they do run to their dens. A miracle!
Trisha says
Yay Chris from Boise! And for reminding us all that relationships built on trust and resilience ameliorate our inevitable, if uncommon, mistakes.
Sandy says
At a recent BarnHunt trial, newly working at Master’s Level, I forgot rules and forgot time and DQ both runs. My dog, however, did fabulously. She found all her rats and did a stellar job. Took a beautiful photo of her at the venue, celebrated her on social media because she did her job right. Could have beat myself up but had the clarity to realize that she succeeded. Maybe her teammate lost points but points are of no interest to my dog. She found her rats and she was happy!