Lucky Dog Lessons

by Brandon McMillan

  To start this process, establish a routine for your dog that gives him an idea of what to expect day to day. The most important piece of that routine should be the dog getting fed at the same times and places each morning and evening. For rescues, it’s amazing how just learning that food will be pinging into a dish twice a day can start to put them at ease. Other predictable elements of a schedule—like a walk time and regular opportunities to get outside for a few minutes—will all help your dog feel he knows what to expect.

  5. Be Reassuring. Somewhere along the line, a big myth got turned loose on the dog world that says owners shouldn’t comfort dogs when they’re afraid—that this might reinforce their fears. I can only say that after decades of working not only with dogs but also with wild animals, I’ve found this to just not be true. If your dog is afraid of something, show him you care and reassure him in a calm, low tone. As you start training, you may be able to gradually ease his fears through distant exposure in a safe environment. During the trust period, though, don’t force your dog to confront his fears if you can help it—and don’t worry that your reassurance will somehow make him worse. There will be time later to help him learn to face his issues, to show him he can get past them on his own and reassure him through the process.

  6. Be a Friend. Spend time with your dog. Give treats. Pet and praise. All of these things reinforce the idea that you are someone your dog can count on in good times and in bad. They show you can be trusted. A three-month-old puppy may think everyone is his friend because he has no experience with the world. But as a dog gets older—especially a shelter dog and most especially an abused shelter dog—he meets a lot of people. Some are friends; others foes. Over the course of their lives, dogs gather data to understand which is which. They learn that one of the main elements that can help them survive is friendship. A true bond with someone betters their chances of consistently eating, drinking water, being tended to when they’re sick or cold or lonely, and, most importantly, being loved. I know it sounds way too simple, but dogs are just that: simple animals.

  Bonding

  Bonding is an important part of building trust, but it’s also an aspect of dog ownership we can all use and benefit from. Whether you’ve had your dog for a week or a decade, your relationship will benefit if you take a little time to focus on strengthening the bond between you. Activities that build bonds are easy to incorporate into even the busiest routine. Here are a few examples to get you started:

  Exercise. This one’s a win-win. Exercising with your dog is an easy way to build the bond between you. If walking is your thing, that’s great for both of you. Make it more interesting by changing your route or your pace. Exploring new places (and smells) together is a great way to help your dog feel more connected with you.

  SPECIAL FOR SHY DOGS

  To some extent, dogs come by shyness naturally. Just as a person might have a genetic predisposition toward a certain height or intelligence or temper, a dog inherits physical and behavioral traits, too. Thanks to fairy tales and Hollywood projections, you may associate the word wolf with big and bad, but as a trainer with decades of experience working with real wolves, I can attest to the fact that they are actually one of the shyest species on the earth. Simply by virtue of being descended from a profoundly shy creature, your dog may have been born with this trait.

  The German shepherd is a perfect example. Genetically, these intelligent and devoted dogs are among the closest breeds to wolves that exist today. Early German shepherds were actually bred with wolf in them, and so it’s not surprising that many of these imposing-looking dogs are actually pretty shy, at least until they develop confidence through training.

  However, in many cases there’s more at issue than just genetics. Any dog can revert to the elemental roots of fear when the chips are down or when he’s intimidated. And something as simple as a lack of experience and exposure to unfamiliar surroundings can cause a dog to lock into an instinctive retreat mode.

  Taking steps to build trust with your dog is the first component in helping him overcome shyness. Time spent bonding will help with this, too. Later, when you start training, your dog will have regular opportunities to build confidence—and confidence is the key to helping a shy, fearful dog start to see that this world is not such a mean and intimidating place, after all.

  Play. There are hundreds of different ways to play with a dog, so take a little time to find out which ones suit yours best. I’ve seen some dogs who live and breathe for the next toss of a tennis ball, and others who get more excited at the idea of finding a hidden object or going for a run or tugging on a pull toy. What matters here is that if you take the time to play, your dog will quickly learn to associate time spent with you with the joyful feeling of a favorite toy or game. In the long run, that association will make training infinitely easier on both of you.

  Playing with Lulu

  Socialize. As your dog begins to show trust in you, take the opportunity to introduce him to some of the experiences of the wider world. At the Lucky Dog Ranch, I get to introduce each new dog to the pack in the play yard. For many of the dogs who spend time at the ranch, this is a highlight experience. Some of them have never had the chance to just play to their heart’s content in a safe environment before, and they act like they can’t believe their luck. You can create a great social experience for your dog by arranging a puppy play date, visiting a dog park, or having a friend visit and bring treats. It doesn’t have to be a big interaction—just an opportunity to try something new in the world with you there to look out for him and cheer him on.

  Take It Easy. Nobody ever said bonding time always has to require high energy. Sometimes just getting down on the floor to pet your dog, sitting on the porch together, or taking a nap together on the couch is exactly the kind of quiet bonding experience that really lets your dog know you are worthy of trust and love.

  Feed. No list of bonding activities could possibly be complete without a recommendation to give your dog treats. Most dogs love nothing more. Offering a variety of dog-safe goodies as both surprises and rewards will help bond your dog to you and create a dedicated training partner.

  Give Affection. To a dog, nothing is better than a good massage. Petting your dog is a simple way to build a bond, especially after a long day of all the activities listed above. This is a no-brainer and a great way to form a tighter friendship between you and your pet. Unfortunately for you, the favor can’t be returned.

  Courtesy of Litton Syndications, Inc.

  Meet Luke. Some dogs come with more issues than others. As far as I’m concerned, that just makes it all the more rewarding when I help them overcome their problems and find their forever homes. Luke was one of those challenging dogs. At just eight months old, he had seen way too much of how negative the world can be. He’d spent his life on the run, dodging people, scavenging food, and hiding out. Luke didn’t trust the ground he walked on. When I met him in the shelter, the last thing this skinny, scared shepherd-Lab mix wanted was for me to put a leash on him—and I knew better than to force the issue. I was going to have to draw this dog out and earn his trust if I was ever going to be able to show him a different side of the world.

  That first day, I had to wait for Luke to come to me, for his natural curiosity to bring him close enough to touch. When he was comfortable accepting a collar, I took him home to the ranch. But we had our work cut out for us. Each time I closed a gate, Luke flinched at the sound. When I gave him a command with any volume or emphasis in my voice, he responded as if I’d yelled at him, lowering his head and raising the muscles above his eyes toward me in a “What did I do wrong?” expression. It seemed like everything was a punishment for this dog, and his constant instinct was to run away. The mom waiting for Luke was a therapist who wanted a dog who could help shy kids come out of their shells, and I was beginning to wonder if he would be capable of filling that role. Based on my observations of his behavior and his reactions, I was sure Luke had been physically abused.
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br />   Luke’s past was his Achilles’ heel, and until he was able to build a little trust in me, there wasn’t much point in pursuing his 7 Common Commands. Instead of diving into training, I spent time with him. I sat beside him, petted him, gave him treats, spoke in a reassuring voice, and let him get to know me. In response, he took more interest in me, daring to come close, to let me touch him, and to relax a little bit. At the end of three days, Luke was finally ready to start training. Luke learned faster than most abused dogs to trust me, maybe because of his resilient personality. Whatever the reason, he broke through.

  Once Luke decided to put a little faith in me, he was able to master his 7 Common Commands. And by the time he was finally able to go to his new home, Luke was able to put his fears behind him, and, fittingly, to become a reassuring companion for the special-needs students his new mom worked with every day in her home office.

  The End Game

  Ultimately, if you put in the time and energy to build trust and bond with your dog, you’ll be able to participate in the biggest bonding exercise of all: training. Without complete trust in you, your dog might only ever reach half of his potential in training. But when a dog completely trusts you, there’s no limit to the lengths he’ll go to please you and learn from you.

  3

  TRAINING BASICS

  Every well-trained dog had to start somewhere, and of all the dogs I’ve trained, the one who was probably the deepest in the hole on day one was a gigantic Doberman named Apollo. Apollo was nine months old when I met him. He was a beautiful dog, and unlike most of the animals you’ll read about in this book, he came to me not from an animal shelter but from a prestigious kennel. He’d been sold and then returned because he was difficult to handle. The breeder knew his dog had potential, so he donated him to a wounded veteran to become a service dog. I volunteered to train him.

  I flew across the country to get Apollo, renting a car in Philadelphia and driving out through the Pennsylvania countryside to the breeder’s ranch. When I got there, I talked with the owner for a while, and then he went to get my new trainee. He came back with the huge, powerfully built Doberman, and I said, “Hi, boy!” to get Apollo’s attention. I got it. The hundred-pound dog came barreling at me at full speed, leaped into the air as he got close, landed both front paws on my chest, and body-slammed me all the way to the nearest wall. Once he had me pinned, Apollo didn’t stick around to make friends. Leaving me against the wall, he took off at a gallop—around the room, over the coffee table, onto the desk—moving so fast I couldn’t even get a hand on his leash. I thought, Okay, there’s a lot of work to do with this dog. I couldn’t get him back to my ranch soon enough to get started.

  My first thought was to crate Apollo, but this boy needed a crate big enough for a lion, so the backseat would have to do. It was no easy task loading him into my rental car, but that turned out to be the least stressful part of the trip. As we drove away, Apollo started chewing on the back of my seat. By the time we hit the highway, he was working on the bench in back. I stopped and put a leash on him so I could correct him from the front, but somewhere between the ranch and the airport, he gnawed the inside of one of the doors until the hand rest and cup holder came completely off. I was just starting to take a mental tally of the damage when Apollo lifted his leg and peed like a racehorse on the backseat for about forty-five seconds. I was ill, flying down the highway at sixty-five miles an hour, thinking we may have just reached the point where it would cost less to buy a new car than to pay for the damages to the one I was driving.

  Just when it seemed there was nothing else Apollo could do to make things worse, he found one more way to raise the bar. The leash I’d put on him was my lucky leash. I’d had it for about fifteen years and trained thousands of dogs with it. It was leather, softened and worn in all the right places from years of work. It was one of my proudest possessions, and I was counting on it to help me tame the giant in the backseat. When I heard Apollo chewing again, I gave the leash a quick tug to stop him—and half of it came flying up and hit the windshield. The other half was still hanging from Apollo’s collar.

  That was my breaking point. I stopped the car—and started Apollo’s training right there on the side of the highway. It couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  Apollo, from leash-wrecking troublemaker to star service dog

  © Brandon McMillan

  I want you to know about Apollo because he may have been the most out-of-control dog I ever began a training program with—the combination of his size, strength, and complete lack of discipline was pretty incredible. It would have been easy to decide that he didn’t have it in him to be trained, let alone to become a companion for a wounded veteran who deserved an impeccably trained dog at his side. But Apollo was trainable. In fact, if you go to the website for my Argus Service Dog Foundation, you’ll see him right there on the front page with his owner, Tyler. That crazy, jumping, car-chewing, backseat-peeing, leash-wrecking dog literally became a poster dog and the prototype for every service dog I’ve trained since. If you saw him today, you’d never know Apollo was once so wild I could barely get him to the airport. He didn’t learn just his 7 Common Commands. He learned to brace himself so Tyler can lean on him to go up and down steps. He learned to pull the wheelchair when it arrives at an incline. He learned to pick up almost anything Tyler drops or asks for by name. He learned the difference between left and right so he could steer the wheelchair on command. He learned to be patient and ready at all times. In the end, Apollo didn’t just train; he matured into a dog who is as dignified, intelligent, devoted, and capable as any animal I’ve ever met.

  I still have the broken pieces of my lucky leash. I hung them on my wall as a souvenir. They’re a reminder that every dog can be trained, no matter how challenging things may look at the kickoff. In the process of training your own dog, I hope you won’t have to pay for damages to any rental cars or peel yourself off any walls after getting crushed, but whatever unique challenges come with the experience, try to think of them in terms of the stories you’ll have to tell later—after you’ve succeeded in revealing the well-trained animal within.

  6 Key Training Components

  There are a few basic guidelines I rely on in every training program—whether I’m working with an untrained puppy, helping a dog brush up on a few basic skills, or dealing with a behavior problem. In this chapter, we’ll look at each of these critical components. As a group, they’re a kind of Lucky Dog 101—everything you need to know to get started. These are the six aspects of training that’ll help make the time you invest with your dog efficient and effective:

  1.Mental preparation

  2.Control

  3.Focus

  4.Technique

  5.Tools

  6.Conditioning

  Mental Preparation

  It’s easy to perceive dog training as something that’s mostly physical; we teach a technique, then repeat it until the desired response becomes muscle memory for the dog. Along the way, a few things will probably become part of your muscle memory, too—like the way you hold your hand to give the STAY signal, or the leash correction that reminds your dog to HEEL at your side. More subtle physical cues—many of which we’ll discuss in the coming chapters—will also become second nature to you. But when you really examine what factors contribute to effective dog training, the one that’s too often overlooked is the mental element of making it work. It’s your mental game that will set the tone for how your dog-training time is going to flow; it’s your mental strength that will get you through the moments when it seems like nothing you’re teaching is sinking in.

  There’s a philosophy I learned from one of the mentors who taught me about training when I was a teenager, and it has been a mantra for me ever since: “The face you show your dog is the face that’s shown back to you.”

  So what face do you want to show your dog? You want to show the face of a boss, not an employee; a teacher, not a student. This is not an angry or aggressive
face. Instead, it’s one that doesn’t show frustration or doubt or hesitation. Think about someone you know who’s a great teacher or coach. That person is confidently in charge, positive in the way he or she teaches, and eager to share knowledge. That’s someone who has nothing to prove and everything to offer. Think of Bill Gates giving a computer class or Warren Buffett explaining investment basics. That’s the kind of face I want you to show your dog during training. It doesn’t matter if you’ve trained one hundred dogs before or not a single one. Nobody knows your dog better than you do, and nobody understands the training you want to accomplish better than you do. You are the expert during training time, and that’s the attitude you need to bring. At other times, you can show your dog the face of a playmate or a pal, but during training, position yourself as the wise teacher.

  There’s a simple reason why this really matters. Animals are always looking for leadership, waiting on you for cues to tell them what to do. If you don’t deliver, they look somewhere else—or assume a leadership role themselves. In most cases, this is not about dominance—it’s about an animal with a deep-seated, inborn drive to be part of a hierarchical pack wanting someone to look up to. The same rules apply when I train large predators. The only way I can get a four-hundred-pound Siberian tiger to do what I ask is to mentally run the training experience. Physically, I can’t even compete—and anyone who thinks they can force a tiger to do their bidding through physical force is both deluded and creating a very dangerous situation. They’re basically asking for a Darwin Award. My game face is where I always find success, and it’s the training difference between getting one of nature’s great predators to calmly do exactly what I ask and having him decide I haven’t earned that kind of respect and doing whatever the heck he wants instead.