06/23/2024
I am frequently asked by potential clients and even fellow trainers what 'techniques' or 'methods' I use when I train dogs. It's an acceptable question, with a multitude of answers.
I tend to err on the side of caution since the vast majority of askers are rooting for information on tool use instead of really wanting a definitive answer on 'How do you really train dogs'?
Folks have a tendency to get lost in the weeds when it comes to methodology. Many become cognitively immobile over the prospect of a specific tool being used, or more than one learning quadrant being employed.
Trainers get caught up in the political hyperbole of tool use or 'methods' associated with one philosophy or another. None of this benefits the dogs, nor their owners, but that doesn't seem to shake the full-chested confidence of the acolyte trying to persuade their target audience.
Owners get caught somewhere near the middle of success or failure, as they are indoctrinated by a media that only serves the worst news about trainers who have harmed or killed dogs, and by service providers that are looking to sell them something.
It's a difficult road to follow when you're looking for a clear path forward. The average owner wants a mannerly pet. Folks looking for dog training are caught between the tidal waves of a narcissistic industry that eats it's own young, and the rocks upon which they will be cast, if they choose poorly.
And the conversation usually starts with "What methods do you use?"
My views on 'methods' have remained unchanged throughout my entire career. I view a 'method' as an outline to follow, that enables me to create the script, flesh out the scenes and the characters, and come to a finale.
Every step is listed, and every detail is crafted before the project is even begun. Every scene is planned, every line is scripted, for continuity.
The variables are determined by the weather, the lighting, whether the actor has a hangover, etc., but every screenplay is created using the same basic formula.
In training, the variable is the dog. It's always the dog. If a client has signed on to train with me, they have committed to trusting my expertise and are permitting me to access and hopefully improve their dog, and their relationship with their dog.
My end goal is always the same; produce a dog that is responsive, willing and happy to perform, to stop eating the mailman, or stop pooping on the floor.
I have argued this point for decades that a 'method' is simply the steps one follows, like chapters in a book, more so than the dogmatic practices of the religious rituals some 'methods' have morphed into.
I do what works for that individual, based on the trials and tribulations of almost 5 decades dedicated to the art of training dogs. My paintbrushes are varied in size, texture and other physical properties, but they all paint, and are all capable of creating art.
The determining factor remains the dog. The ability to shift gears and adapt any training methodology or tool is predicated on having had hands on a lot of dogs, and practiced with a lot of tools.
The vast majority of owners do not seek trainers to prevent problems, they come to solve problems. The vast majority of problems are because the basic mechanics were never taught to begin with, and now communication has broken down and all the internet's cookies and feel-good nonsense aren't enough to keep that dog in its home.
Methods and tools matter, but only so far as whether they work, and whether it's some thing the end user, the owner, is capable of following through with.
I tend to use methods that actually work.