Two months ago I began exploring the incredible power of serenely doing nothing and allowing animals to figure things out for themselves. In Part I I discussed how the most successful animal adults spend the least amount of energy when training their young. In Part II I looked at ways to convert an energy-hogging, reactive (subordinate) owner mind-set into a sleek, energy-efficient leadership one. This month we’re going to consider the different factors that come into play when an animal behavioral meltdown occurs.
Consider this common scenario: one day Snuffy growls and maybe snaps when someone attempts to move him off the couch. We already know that, even though we may want to say that Snuffy was perfect until that fateful day and that he must have a brain tumor, chances are we either missed or ignored the early signs that his relationship with people was heading down the canine-leader toilet. For example, when Snuffy was 7 months old, he started “grumbling” when someone nudged him to move over on the couch. However, rather than seeing this as a problem, we thought of that part of the couch as his from then on. Over time, though, he hogged more and more of the couch until that fateful day when we found ourselves sitting on the floor and decided enough was enough.
Now things get complicated. Suppose your son took over your couch and swore at and tried to hit, kick, or bite anyone who asked him to get off it. Surely only the wimpiest parents would accept this behavior and we would soundly condemn them if they did. On the other hand, suppose someone we considered an expert said it was never appropriate to discipline a child under any circumstances. Or suppose we had so little confidence in the child’s love and need for us that we dare not challenge him in any way. Or suppose we were afraid of the child. What then can we do but back off and let the child run the show?
Unfortunately, there are those naive or inexperienced trainers who also maintain that all discipline is inappropriate. Those owners who believe this find themselves in a no-win situation. If they back off, they reinforce the dog’s leader position. If they try to bribe the dog off the couch with food or other “positive” lures, they reward the negative behavior. If they lose their tempers and haul the dog off in no uncertain terms, they risk censure by the trainer and others, as well as feeling guilty. Because they feel guilty, they then grovel and fawn all over the dog after-the-fact and undo any benefits the display might have gained them.
Let me pause here to note that any time we punish an animal in such a highly reactive “hot” manner, it may work to some extent for two reasons. Some animals may see this as a sufficiently dominant display by a competitor that it’s not worth the effort to repeat the negative behavior. Although I have no way of proving this, I also suspect that other animals find the specter of certain humans losing it so bizarre that they think we have brain tumors and opt not to antagonize us lest they set us off again. Regardless of the outcome, though, such impulsive losses of control do not signal human leadership in any way. When it doesn’t work, however, and the animal hurts the person, the damage to the relationship may cost the animal his/her life.
Anyone who knows me knows I don’t believe in the use of physical force, shocks or other pain- inducing approaches to training because they’re both unnatural and unnecessary. At the same time, however, I’ve come to the conclusion that many avoid discussing what to do when a pet crosses the line and endangers others or him/herself for two reasons: They don’t know what to do and/or they’re afraid the animal will hurt them. Interestingly, in my experience those in the latter group may project their fears for their own safety on the animal, saying they don’t discuss discipline because they’re afraid that someone will hurt the animal.
And, in a way, they’re quite right. When we lash out in fear (the fear-fight response), it’s very possible that someone will get hurt because this is an instinctive, non-thinking response. Regardless how we might try to rationalize yanking dogs off couches and slamming them down on the floor as “teaching” them to obey, in reality we’re just venting because we know we screwed up. We missed all the early signs. Not only that, in the instant that animal threatened or actually hurt us or someone else, we’re faced with the sudden realization that we might be afraid of our own animals. If we find that idea unacceptable, we’ll want to behave in a manner that proves we’re not afraid. Lacking knowledge of animal behavior, the only option that comes to mind is using force.
We’ve all heard the told saying, “Knowledge is power.” Within the realm of companion animal relationships, the increased emotional charge we place on animals has been accompanied by a corresponding decrease in knowledge about the animals themselves. The average owner knows more about the treatments for animal medical problems than they do about normal animal anatomy and physiology; many can discuss various training approaches in depth, but know little or nothing about normal canine or feline behavior. Although that selective knowledge may make us feel powerful in the company of other like-minded folk, the lack of concrete knowledge about the animal leads to feelings of impotence. We interact with them as if participating in a magic show. We’re awed and gush ecstatically when they do something we consider brilliant or unusual, even though it might be a perfectly logical animal response under those circumstances. When they misbehave, we react as if a flaming demon has just materialized in front of us, even though that animal response, too, is perfectly logical.
In spite of those Garden of Eden scenarios we all so love, youngsters of all species cross the lines and parents discipline them. However, how they discipline them is a function of knowledge of their offspring and the confidence that comes with it. The most energy-efficient parents do it all with The Look. If your folks ever gave you The Look when you were a child, you know it immediately stopped you in your tracks and put you back on the path to righteousness posthaste. Why? Because that look communicated that parent’s willingness to swiftly, unemotionally, and totally bring the full force of parental wrath down upon anyone foolish enough to disobey.
Those parents with less confidence must give a cold, hard, verbal warning (growl or snarl) with The Look. Those with still less, must demonstrate the nature of that swift, unemotional parental wrath once. Those parents with the least confidence expend the most energy, threatening and screaming, and then finally losing it and physically assaulting the youngster.
Practice makes perfect and that holds true for disciplining like a true leader/parent rather than a competitor. Practice The Look using a mirror. Mentally practice giving low, calm, and very cold commands while you’re stuck in traffic. (Don’t practice in your pet’s presence. Only use The Look or this tone when the animal has actually done something wrong.) Visualize those scenarios with your pet that cause you to lose it and rework them two ways. First, the desired ideal: envision yourself noticing the signs of an impending meltdown and successfully distracting the animal with something positive to do before it occurs. Second, the back-up: envision missing those early warning signs and now confidently aborting the behavior swiftly, smoothly, and unemotionally. Not only will such practice enable you to make the proper response at the proper time, the confidence you gain from all this practice will reduce the probability that such challenges to your position will arise in the first place.
Two months ago I began exploring the incredible power of serenely doing nothing and allowing animals to figure things out for themselves. In Part I I discussed how the most successful animal adults spend the least amount of energy when training their young. In Part II I looked at ways to convert an energy-hogging, reactive (subordinate) owner mind-set into a sleek, energy-efficient leadership one. This month we’re going to consider the different factors that come into play when an animal behavioral meltdown occurs.
Consider this common scenario: one day Snuffy growls and maybe snaps when someone attempts to move him off the couch. We already know that, even though we may want to say that Snuffy was perfect until that fateful day and that he must have a brain tumor, chances are we either missed or ignored the early signs that his relationship with people was heading down the canine-leader toilet. For example, when Snuffy was 7 months old, he started “grumbling” when someone nudged him to move over on the couch. However, rather than seeing this as a problem, we thought of that part of the couch as his from then on. Over time, though, he hogged more and more of the couch until that fateful day when we found ourselves sitting on the floor and decided enough was enough.
Now things get complicated. Suppose your son took over your couch and swore at and tried to hit, kick, or bite anyone who asked him to get off it. Surely only the wimpiest parents would accept this behavior and we would soundly condemn them if they did. On the other hand, suppose someone we considered an expert said it was never appropriate to discipline a child under any circumstances. Or suppose we had so little confidence in the child’s love and need for us that we dare not challenge him in any way. Or suppose we were afraid of the child. What then can we do but back off and let the child run the show?
Unfortunately, there are those naive or inexperienced trainers who also maintain that all discipline is inappropriate. Those owners who believe this find themselves in a no-win situation. If they back off, they reinforce the dog’s leader position. If they try to bribe the dog off the couch with food or other “positive” lures, they reward the negative behavior. If they lose their tempers and haul the dog off in no uncertain terms, they risk censure by the trainer and others, as well as feeling guilty. Because they feel guilty, they then grovel and fawn all over the dog after-the-fact and undo any benefits the display might have gained them.
Let me pause here to note that any time we punish an animal in such a highly reactive “hot” manner, it may work to some extent for two reasons. Some animals may see this as a sufficiently dominant display by a competitor that it’s not worth the effort to repeat the negative behavior. Although I have no way of proving this, I also suspect that other animals find the specter of certain humans losing it so bizarre that they think we have brain tumors and opt not to antagonize us lest they set us off again. Regardless of the outcome, though, such impulsive losses of control do not signal human leadership in any way. When it doesn’t work, however, and the animal hurts the person, the damage to the relationship may cost the animal his/her life.
Anyone who knows me knows I don’t believe in the use of physical force, shocks or other pain- inducing approaches to training because they’re both unnatural and unnecessary. At the same time, however, I’ve come to the conclusion that many avoid discussing what to do when a pet crosses the line and endangers others or him/herself for two reasons: They don’t know what to do and/or they’re afraid the animal will hurt them. Interestingly, in my experience those in the latter group may project their fears for their own safety on the animal, saying they don’t discuss discipline because they’re afraid that someone will hurt the animal.
And, in a way, they’re quite right. When we lash out in fear (the fear-fight response), it’s very possible that someone will get hurt because this is an instinctive, non-thinking response. Regardless how we might try to rationalize yanking dogs off couches and slamming them down on the floor as “teaching” them to obey, in reality we’re just venting because we know we screwed up. We missed all the early signs. Not only that, in the instant that animal threatened or actually hurt us or someone else, we’re faced with the sudden realization that we might be afraid of our own animals. If we find that idea unacceptable, we’ll want to behave in a manner that proves we’re not afraid. Lacking knowledge of animal behavior, the only option that comes to mind is using force.
We’ve all heard the told saying, “Knowledge is power.” Within the realm of companion animal relationships, the increased emotional charge we place on animals has been accompanied by a corresponding decrease in knowledge about the animals themselves. The average owner knows more about the treatments for animal medical problems than they do about normal animal anatomy and physiology; many can discuss various training approaches in depth, but know little or nothing about normal canine or feline behavior. Although that selective knowledge may make us feel powerful in the company of other like-minded folk, the lack of concrete knowledge about the animal leads to feelings of impotence. We interact with them as if participating in a magic show. We’re awed and gush ecstatically when they do something we consider brilliant or unusual, even though it might be a perfectly logical animal response under those circumstances. When they misbehave, we react as if a flaming demon has just materialized in front of us, even though that animal response, too, is perfectly logical.
In spite of those Garden of Eden scenarios we all so love, youngsters of all species cross the lines and parents discipline them. However, how they discipline them is a function of knowledge of their offspring and the confidence that comes with it. The most energy-efficient parents do it all with The Look. If your folks ever gave you The Look when you were a child, you know it immediately stopped you in your tracks and put you back on the path to righteousness posthaste. Why? Because that look communicated that parent’s willingness to swiftly, unemotionally, and totally bring the full force of parental wrath down upon anyone foolish enough to disobey.
Those parents with less confidence must give a cold, hard, verbal warning (growl or snarl) with The Look. Those with still less, must demonstrate the nature of that swift, unemotional parental wrath once. Those parents with the least confidence expend the most energy, threatening and screaming, and then finally losing it and physically assaulting the youngster.
Practice makes perfect and that holds true for disciplining like a true leader/parent rather than a competitor. Practice The Look using a mirror. Mentally practice giving low, calm, and very cold commands while you’re stuck in traffic. (Don’t practice in your pet’s presence. Only use The Look or this tone when the animal has actually done something wrong.) Visualize those scenarios with your pet that cause you to lose it and rework them two ways. First, the desired ideal: envision yourself noticing the signs of an impending meltdown and successfully distracting the animal with something positive to do before it occurs. Second, the back-up: envision missing those early warning signs and now confidently aborting the behavior swiftly, smoothly, and unemotionally. Not only will such practice enable you to make the proper response at the proper time, the confidence you gain from all this practice will reduce the probability that such challenges to your position will arise in the first place.