The Most Good

If you’re new to my site, I already know what you’re thinking. “But wait. This doesn’t sound like any fun at all!”

And you would be right. If you’re reaching out to me for help you are probably just like me - you got a dog for a reason. You want a companion, an adventure buddy, and here I am telling you to more or less ignore your dog, stop petting him, and punish bad behavior. Say what?!

I’m well aware that some believe there’s a better, kinder way. A fun way. They promise a life where your dog never has to experience any discomfort whatsoever. “Learning should be fun” they say, as they try (and fail) to get your dog’s attention off a live, moving cat by waving a morsel of freeze dried corn and chicken meal in his face. Been there, done that. Above all else, they promise that using food is not only the best way, but the only way to train a dog. Using punishment is outdated, unnecessary, and abusive. Not Good. 

It's a nice theory (and awesome marketing), but you don’t have to be the sharpest tool in the shed to realize the limitations of the pure positive ideology played out in the real world. It's not difficult to extrapolate out to the eventual life of a dog whose owners insist on avoiding any and all discomfort. There is a kind of soft tyranny implicit in all this that makes me sick to my stomach. The lengths to which humans will go to remain the good cop. 

No off leash time. Few walks. Constant anxiety. Doggie Prozac. Support group for the owner after a "hard day." Teeth ripped out trying to escape the crate. Dear God, thunder shirts. Not Good. 

Sometimes You're the Hammer

You may have noticed by now that life isn’t always fun. There are periods of highs and lows. Productivity and procrastination. Stress and relaxation. Illness and wellness. If get still enough, and quiet enough, each of us knows this to be true on a deep level. Life itself  is a double-edged sword. Sometimes you’re the hammer, sometimes you’re the nail.

We are born - yay! We have our struggles, and if we’re lucky, some successes and joys and happiness along the way. And then, we die! Sometimes, before we’re ready. Boo. Hiss.The only thing that is guaranteed is death and suffering. How do we act morally and courageously on behalf of our dogs in spite of this fact?

We try to do the most good possible.

What might that look like, particularly for our dogs? There’s a hierarchy at play, of course. Good for humans comes first. Though it may be “good, from a dog’s perspective, to bite a child because it keeps the damn brat from pulling his tail, it’s certainly not perceived as “good” by the mother of the child. Or by the child. 

Similarly, running after a squirrel seems like a good idea to most dogs, but that’s only because they can’t conceptualize things like cars and interstate highways. Same with the inevitable chocolate left on the counter on Thanksgiving, when owners are more distracted than usual. Dogs aren’t equipped to take care of themselves for the same reasons two year old humans aren’t - the have no way to organize themselves across time.

In order for things to be good for our dogs, they have to be good for us, too. We negotiate. “If you give in to leash pressure, you don’t have to feel the pinch of the prongs and I don’t have to be pulled around.” That’s good. Now you have a dog who isn’t pulling you around, and who isn’t feeling tension on the leash.The dog is shown a better way. A safer way.

But what if it could be better? We raise the bar. We pop the leash when the dog starts to stare. “If you walk next to me and don’t bark at other dogs, I will take you on more walks.” Even better. Now you have a dog who walks nicely next to you, AND you two can go on more, longer walks.

What could be even better than this? “If you immediately come when you feel this low-level e-collar tap, you will get petted and you won’t have to feel the higher levels.” That’s pretty damn good. Now your dog can be released to go sniff at the park. Presumably he enjoys this activity, as most dogs strain at the leash to do exactly this, but I guess we may never know for sure what counts as enjoyment.

Even better still? We collectively train our dogs not to bark, lunge growl, or pull. Every dog comes back when called every time, even around other dogs. Dog parks quickly become obsolete. Dog owners on the whole are well-versed in proper handling techniques, and give other dogs exactly the right amount of space. Dogs are not allowed to run up to other dogs, and they know it. Reactive dog support groups dwindle, as reactivity is easily addressed in most instances with punishment.

Now dogs are freer than free. No leashes needed. Instead of shutting our dogs out into the back yard in order not to deal with them, we invite them inside, where they can behave themselves. Dog fights become rare, and dog bites rarer still.

Bonking your dog with a towel for rushing the door becomes as common as puppy shots. Canine Prozac prescriptions rapidly decline, and dogs experience a massive species-wide decline in obesity rates, thanks to increased exercise and reduction in treats. The shelters are more or less empty, finally, but stay open for the odd stray. (An older friend of mine tells me this is really how it used to be.)

Some tell me this is a pipe dream. That people are lazy, willfully blind, or too stupid to figure it out. And fair enough, God knows I have certainly been all of those things at various times in my life. But part of me likes to think that people are trying, that they care, and that given the right kind of permission, tools, and coaching,  they will act on behalf of their dog’s greater good.

Not greater comfort. Greater good.