Canine Evolutions

09/04/2025

In this episode of The Canine Deep Dive, cynologist Bart de Gols tackles one of the most misunderstood topics in modern dog training: what it really means to live with a high-drive dog.

Too often, people assume that a Malinois, German Shepherd, Husky, or Cattle Dog lying quietly at their feet is a picture of calmness. But as Bart explains, that supposed “calm” can often be the silence of trauma. When drives are crushed through harsh methods or chronic deprivation, the dog doesn’t become balanced—it enters learned helplessness, a state first identified in the 1960s where animals give up because nothing they do matters.

Science confirms the cost of suppression. Chronic stress elevates cortisol, shrinks the hippocampus, and over-activates the amygdala, leaving dogs anxious and less capable of learning. Dopamine, which fuels play and motivation, collapses, draining joy and initiative. What looks like obedience is often the stillness of defeat.

Yet Bart draws a sharp distinction. Suppression is abuse. Correction is biology. In wolves, mothers, and even human societies, fair corrections are normal tools of communication. They are swift, proportionate, and never designed to break spirit. Misused corrections that extinguish drive are abusive. But fair, well-timed corrections serve as neurological interruptors, pulling a dog briefly out of its primal mind and giving it a chance to re-engage cognitively with the handler.

Still, corrections must never be the first choice. The ethical path begins with drive fulfillment: Huskies need structured running, Malinois need controlled bite work, Shepherds need tracking and guarding tasks, herding dogs need outlets for movement. Cognitive work—scent games, problem-solving, and engagement training—further balances the brain, linking dopamine and oxytocin release to the handler. Structure and predictability add stability by lowering stress hormones.

Corrections only have a place when the dog is lost in reactivity and cannot self-regulate. Used then, fairly and sparingly, they preserve drive while redirecting it. Harsh suppression collapses cognition. Ethical corrections open it.

Bart also calls out responsibility across the chain. Breeders must stop marketing high-drive dogs as “easy companions.” Owners must accept that such dogs are a lifestyle, not a hobby. Trainers must refuse to sell suppression-based “calmness” programs that amount to breaking spirit.

The moral truth is clear: you cannot erase drive—you can only channel it. Suppression is abuse. Corrections, when used after enrichment and engagement, are simply part of biology.

Bart leaves listeners with this message: your dog is not broken—your expectations are. You cannot ask a Husky not to run, a Malinois not to work, or a working Shepherd not to guard. These drives are not quirks. They are living expressions of genetics sculpted by centuries of selection.

Podcast Episode · The Canine Deep Dive · 09/03/2025 · 29m

09/04/2025

Drive is biology, not behavior. It is the expression of genetic programming etched into a dog’s nervous system and refined through centuries of selection. When I see people trying to suppress drive with harsh methods or severe deprivation, I don’t see training, I see trauma. The science is clear: suppression elevates cortisol, shuts down dopamine, and erodes neuroplasticity. The dog may look calm on the outside, but what I often see is learned helplessness, the quiet of defeat, not the balance of fulfillment.

In this article, I explain why suppression is abuse, and why fair, mild corrections, used after drive has been properly channeled, and the stress with it, are not cruelty but part of biology itself. My work is about engagement, mental stimulation, and breed-specific outlets that respect the dog’s genetics while building partnership. True training isn’t about erasing drive. It’s about harnessing it with purpose while keeping the spark of the animal alive.

Bart De Gols

Drive is biology, not behavior. It is the expression of genetic programming etched into a dog’s nervous system and refined through centuries of selection. When I see people trying to suppress drive with harsh methods or deprivation, I don’t see training—I see trauma. The science is clear: supp...

09/03/2025

Austria's April 2025 introduction of the prohibition of working dog sports (BGBl II No. 33/2025) was politically justified as a measure to "improve public safety" against protection work-trained and related discipline dogs. Five months later, the facts are dramatically different—so are the consequences.

Public cases of dog biting since the law took effect have not changed a whit. Most have been in Upper Austria, and three more took place last weekend (Aug 30–31, 2025).

And look at the crucial part: all these bites were not from working dog sport dogs, service dogs, and their handlers trained in accordance with international norms of FCI-IGP and equivalent systems.

Instead, 100% of bites were reported from family dogs or untrained dogs who had not attended a single piece of formal education whatsoever.

The political aim was to strengthen public safety by shutting down organized protection training. In reality, it has done the exact opposite. Systematically trained dogs in drive handling, obedience, and social stability are not the problem. Untrained, unmanaged family dogs are the issue hands down.

Working dog sports are founded on global regulations aimed at promoting control, obedience, and social compatibility. In the system, the dogs are tested repeatedly, handled in a systematic way, and continuously exposed to regulations.

On the other hand, the majority of family dogs are brought up undisciplined, without their owners' guidance, and without professional advice. And it is exactly here that most dangerous situations come to life. Lack of knowledge, poor leadership, and complete absence of responsibility—this is where the real threat to society originates.

By banning working dog sports, politicians are outlawing some of society's most responsible owners and clubs—those who have for generations facilitated safety, education, and integration of dogs into society.

At the same time, nothing has been done to regulate those owners whose incompetence and irresponsibility truly put the public at risk. Not only is this misplaced—it is self-defeating.

Effects on Society
• Clubs lose their foundation, including such critical community functions as youth work, prevention, and integration.
• Families with drivey dogs have no safe, organized outlets for their dogs.
• Responsible handlers are forced to cross the border and train abroad—where, not by chance, no individual bite incident has been credited to such dogs.

The outcome is absurd: Austria outsources secure, formalized training and subjects its own population to uncontrolled risk.

My Professional Conclusion

The prohibition has failed on each measurable criterion:
• All reported bite events are from untrained animals.
• Not a single working animal or sports-trained animal has been involved.
• Public safety has not been enhanced.

Rather than staying away from risk, the legislation has in effect dismantled the very systems that stay away from risk in the first place.

Having spent decades in the world of working dogs and dogs sports, I must also caution: it is not done. The second one category of structured training is legislated out in the name of "safety," the others will be right behind in line. Hunting dogs, herding dogs, service dogs—the political logic will remain the same, and bit by bit, society will eliminate the very disciplines that have kept dogs stable, useful, and integrated for centuries.

This is unacceptable to me. It is a slippery slope that is destroying not just the reputation of responsible dog sports but the very fabric of the human–dog bond.

My Recommendation to Policymakers

Sweeping prohibitions are not what Austria needs. Instead:
1. Compulsory education for all dog owners, not just those in sport.
2. Systematic reporting of bite incidents, so judgments are made on fact, not fear.
3. Accepting working dog sports as a tool of prevention utilized to educate control, obedience, and structure.
4. Promoting international cooperation, instead of pushing responsible owners abroad.

The past six months have made it certain: the ban on working dog sports has not contributed anything to welfare or safety. On the contrary—it has compromised responsible education and saved the true sources of risk. If this course is not reversed, there will be more bans to come. And step by step, society will be losing not just a tradition of organized dog training but also a vital pillar for public security itself.

Bart De Gols

08/22/2025

In this episode of Canine Deep Dive, we step into a story that is as personal as it is urgent. Bennie, a German Shepherd I raised from puppyhood, lived a life of loyalty and strength—but his journey ended far too soon. He developed cutaneous lymphoma, a rare and devastating skin cancer, after years of exposure to the silent poisons beneath his paws: herbicides, fungicides, and pesticides commonly used on manicured lawns and golf courses. What looked pristine to the human eye was, in truth, a toxic landscape slowly eroding his health. Bennie’s case reminds us that the cost of our “green perfection” often falls on the dogs who trust us most.

But Bennie’s memory carries a warning—and a call to action. In this episode, we break down what cutaneous lymphoma is, why it is so often misdiagnosed, and how chemicals absorbed through paws, inhaled during walks, or ingested through grooming may contribute to this disease. We’ll explore the science, from the role of the immune system to the way environmental toxins interact with skin and lymphatic tissue, and we’ll ask the hard questions about what responsibility we carry in safeguarding our companions. Bennie’s story is tragic, but it’s also a beacon—a chance to transform awareness into protection for every dog who follows in his pawprints.

Bart De Gols

Podcast Episode · The Canine Deep Dive · 08/21/2025 · 56m

08/21/2025

In this article, I share the story of Bennie, a magnificent German Shepherd taken by a cruel, deceptive cancer called cutaneous lymphoma. His journey serves as a chilling warning about a silent threat lurking in plain sight: the chemical cocktails of herbicides and pesticides used to create perfect, green lawns. Known as "The Great Mimicker," this cancer often masquerades as a simple skin allergy, leading to a heartbreaking cycle of misdiagnosis while the disease silently advances. Our dogs, living their lives nose-to-the-ground, have become the unwilling sentinels for the toxins in our shared environment, and their suffering is an alarm we can no longer ignore.

Bennie’s memory calls us to a higher standard of stewardship. The information in this article is meant to empower you to become a fierce advocate for your pet in the vet's office, questioning a recurring "allergy" diagnosis and pushing for a biopsy when something feels wrong. More fundamentally, it demands we rethink the world we create for them. By eliminating cosmetic pesticides from our own yards, wiping paws after walks in public parks, and demanding safer community spaces, we can fight this disease before it ever starts. Bennie’s legacy asks us to choose health over the illusion of synthetic perfection, protecting the animals who trust us with their lives.

Bart De Gols

In this article, I share the story of Bennie, a magnificent German Shepherd taken by a cruel, deceptive cancer called cutaneous lymphoma. His journey serves as a chilling warning about a silent threat lurking in plain sight: the chemical cocktails of herbicides and pesticides used to create perfect,

07/31/2025

In my decades of work no concept has proven more pervasive, nor more fundamentally misleading, than that of "distraction." It is the universal scapegoat for a lapse in connection, the label we apply when a dog’s attention strays from our intended path to a squirrel, a scent, or a sound on the wind. We frame it as a failure of focus, a moment of willful disobedience. But after countless hours observing the intricate dance between human and canine, and immersing myself in the neuroscience that governs it, I have come to see this interpretation for what it is: a profound delusion. The dog that turns away is not broken, nor is he defying you. He is, in fact, operating flawlessly according to a biological imperative far more powerful than our desire for compliance.

This article is an invitation to join me in a paradigm shift—one I call The Salience Shift. We will move beyond the flawed language of distraction and into the precise world of motivational neuroscience, where we learn that attention is a currency allocated only to what the brain deems most salient, or motivationally relevant. Your dog is not ignoring you; he is making a valid neurological choice to engage with a stimulus that has, in that moment, won the auction for his attention. Our task, then, is not to suppress the world, but to change our place within it. We will journey through the architecture of the canine mind to answer the most critical question in training: not "How do I stop my dog from being distracted?", but "How do I become the most salient, rewarding, and engaging phenomenon in my dog’s world?

Bart De Gols

In my decades of work as a cynologist, no concept has proven more pervasive, nor more fundamentally misleading, than that of "distraction." It is the universal scapegoat for a lapse in connection, the label we apply when a dog’s attention strays from our intended path to a squirrel, a scen

07/31/2025

In his decades of work as a cynologist, Bart De Gols has found no concept more pervasive, nor more fundamentally misleading, than that of "distraction." He identifies it as the universal scapegoat for a lapse in connection—the label handlers apply when a dog’s attention strays from an intended path to a squirrel, a scent, or a sound on the wind. This behavior is often framed as a failure of focus or a moment of willful disobedience. But after countless hours observing the intricate dance between human and canine, and immersing himself in the neuroscience that governs it, de Gols has come to see this interpretation as a profound delusion. The dog that turns away is not broken, he argues, nor is it defying its handler. It is, in fact, operating flawlessly according to a biological imperative far more powerful than the desire for compliance.

This podcast is an invitation to explore a paradigm shift de Gols calls The Salience Shift. The episode moves beyond the flawed language of distraction and into the precise world of motivational neuroscience, where attention is understood as a currency allocated only to what the brain deems most salient, or motivationally relevant. According to de Gols, a dog isn't ignoring its handler; it is making a valid neurological choice to engage with a stimulus that has, in that moment, won the auction for its attention. The task for handlers, then, is not to suppress the world, but to change their place within it. Listeners will journey through the architecture of the canine mind to answer the most critical question in training: not "How do I stop my dog from being distracted?", but "How do I become the most salient, rewarding, and engaging phenomenon in my dog’s world?"

Podcast Episode · The Canine Deep Dive · 07/31/2025 · 48m

07/21/2025

Step into the fascinating world of canine consciousness in this episode of The Canine Deep Dive, where we venture beyond wakeful behavior and explore what happens when our dogs close their eyes and drift into slumber. In this compelling episode, In Dreams They Run, Cynologist Bart de Gols unravels the neuroscience of sleep and the mystery of canine dreaming, blending cutting-edge research with philosophical curiosity to better understand the minds of our four-legged companions.

Drawing on over thirty years of behavioral science, de Gols guides listeners through the various stages of the canine sleep cycle—light sleep, slow-wave sleep, and the elusive REM stage where dreams unfold. But this isn’t just about rest; it’s about what these stages reveal. What does it mean when your dog twitches in their sleep? Are they chasing rabbits through imagined fields? Are they revisiting moments of joy—or trauma—from their waking life? And more importantly, what does this tell us about memory, emotion, and the inner world of dogs?

We explore scientific findings from comparative neurology that confirm dogs, like humans, exhibit the telltale brainwave patterns associated with dreaming. But dogs don’t just dream—they process experiences, reinforce learned behaviors, and even rehearse social interactions while they sleep. This podcast goes far deeper than simple curiosity. It challenges our assumptions about cognition in animals and compels us to reconsider how dogs experience the world—from learning new commands to recovering from trauma.

Bart introduces listeners to a concept he calls cognitive anchoring, where dream activity in dogs may serve to emotionally stabilize and neurologically consolidate both positive and negative life events. Sleep, then, becomes not only a biological need but a form of emotional hygiene. This lens is particularly relevant in behavioral rehabilitation cases, where the role of restorative sleep is often underestimated or overlooked.

Listeners will also learn about how age, breed, and training impact dream frequency and sleep quality. Puppies, for example, dream more frequently as their brains wire and rewire during development. Senior dogs may dream with less frequency, but show signs of deep-rooted memory recall. Herding breeds and working dogs tend to have highly vivid REM phases due to their active daily engagement and stimulus-rich environments. These insights open the door to more ethical and compassionate approaches to canine care, emphasizing the importance of sleep environments, routines, and emotional safety.

This episode also touches on the poetic and soulful side of dreaming. Bart reflects on the silent companionship of dogs during the night, imagining the stories they revisit in their sleep—the dogs they once met, the trails they followed, the humans they loved. With evocative language and scientific rigor, he paints a picture of the canine mind as not just instinct-driven, but richly textured with emotion, memory, and narrative.

Podcast Episode · The Canine Deep Dive · 07/21/2025 · 21m

07/15/2025

I often return to a single image when trying to explain the perceptual divide between humans and canines: the tiger. Not just any tiger, but the now widely circulated split-image that compares how we, as trichromats, perceive a tiger’s bold orange coat against lush green vegetation versus how a dichromatic animal—like a deer, or a dog—would see it. To us, the tiger is a radiant flame in the forest: bright, striking, almost impossible to miss. But to a dichromat, the orange pigment collapses into a hue that closely resembles the background. The predator disappears. Camouflage succeeds.

This image encapsulates the fundamental truth that perception is not reality—it is a neurological construct shaped by the hardware of the sensory system and the software of the brain. The same object, the same environment, the same stimulus can be perceived radically differently depending on the biology of the observer. When it comes to dogs, this perceptual divergence has enormous implications—most of which remain dangerously underestimated by the average trainer or owner.

Dogs, like the tiger’s prey, are dichromatic. Their retinas lack the long-wavelength-sensitive cones that allow humans to differentiate between red and green. What this means in practice is that where we see a spectrum rich in reds, oranges, and bright greens, the dog sees a more muted world composed primarily of bluish-violets, greys, and yellows. A toy that appears bright red to us does not “pop” against a green lawn in the dog’s perceptual world—it fades into a background of similarly toned visual noise. This isn’t a subjective opinion—it’s a measurable fact of retinal anatomy and cone distribution.

But vision is not merely about color. It is about what grabs attention, what is meaningful, and ultimately, what creates emotional responses. The visual system is directly connected to deep emotional processing centers in the brain—most notably, the amygdala, which is responsible for assessing threat and triggering fight-or-flight responses. A dog doesn’t simply “see” a moving object—its brain evaluates that object for salience, novelty, and safety. If the visual signal lacks clarity or consistency—if it flickers, looms suddenly, or carries poor contrast—it’s more likely to trigger a primal, reflexive reaction rather than a thoughtful, cognitive response.

That’s why understanding how dogs perceive visual input is essential to creating environments and training protocols that don’t overwhelm or confuse, but instead foster clarity, calmness, and engagement. I often say that behavior is not just learned—it’s filtered through perception, and perception is rooted in neurology.

Let me give you a real-world example of how this knowledge is translated into meaningful design: the Chuckit ball. Most people assume that the iconic Chuckit ball—with its distinctive orange body and blue stripe—is designed for human aesthetics. The truth is far more scientific. The orange color, while attractive to human buyers, is almost invisible to the dog once thrown into a green or brown environment. On its own, the orange would blend in—just like the tiger in the dichromatic forest. But the designers at Chuckit, likely advised by veterinary vision science consultants, added a blue stripe across the ball. This was not decoration—it was contrast engineering.

Blue, as one of the few hues dogs perceive vividly, creates a stark edge that the dog can track visually while the ball is in motion. It introduces perceptual boundaries. It makes the object “stand out” not to us, but to them. This visual differentiation helps the dog stay engaged with the chase. It improves retrieval success. It minimizes frustration. And, perhaps most importantly, it builds confidence—because the sensory world is suddenly more navigable.

When I explain this to clients, it often opens up an entirely new way of thinking. A dog missing a recall cue or failing to find a toy isn’t necessarily inattentive or stubborn. They may simply not see what we think they see. The fault lies not in the dog’s behavior, but in our assumptions about shared perception. The addition of that simple blue stripe on a toy represents an entire philosophy I advocate for in training: meet the dog where they are, not where we want them to be.

This becomes especially critical when working with dogs that show reactivity, fear, or hypervigilance. Their visual system, optimized for motion and edge detection more than color, is constantly scanning for threats. Sudden movement in the periphery—what we might filter out as irrelevant—can be processed as a significant environmental change. A jogger in dark clothing emerging from behind a tree can appear, in their visual field, as a looming shadow-likeBart De Golsbined with previous trauma or lack of socialization, such stimuli easily trigger limbic system activation, leading to barking, lunging, or flight responses. If we don’t understand that the visual appearance of that jogger is qualitatively different to the dog, we misinterpret the reaction as bad behavior rather than what it truly is: a neuroethological response to a perceived threat.

In training, I always consider what I call the threshold of perceptual ambiguity. The more ambiguous or uncertain a visual stimulus is to the dog, the more likely it is to be processed with suspicion or fear. High-contrast, slow-moving, clearly outlined figures tend to be processed more cognitively. Sudden, low-contrast, erratic figures tend to push the dog into a primal mind state, where thinking shuts down and reflex dominates. This understanding allows us to shape training environments with careful control over visual load: clothing colors, lighting conditions, distance to stimuli, and motion patterns. It is not merely kindness—it is neuroscience-informed efficiency.

So when I see that Chuckit ball fly through the air, its blue stripe slicing across the landscape, I don’t just see a toy. I see a rare example of human design aligning with canine perception. I see cognition being made possible through perceptual accommodation. I see a product designed not for the purchaser, but for the user—the dog. And I wish more of the dog training world would follow suit.

Because the lesson of the tiger is not about stripes. It’s about assumptions. The assumption that others perceive as we do. The assumption that behavior is always volitional, rather than reflexive. The assumption that if a dog doesn’t respond, it’s a training failure—when in fact, it may be a perception mismatch. If we want to build ethical, relationship-based training systems, we must begin by discarding our anthropocentric view of the world. We must replace it with a sensory empathy rooted in biology and respect.

Our dogs are not red-green blind. They are not defective. They are different. And when we train with that difference in mind, something beautiful happens: we stop commanding behavior, and we start cultivating connection.

Bart De Gols

07/10/2025

What do classical music, the ocean’s twilight zone, off-road motorcycles, and dog training have in common? For cynologist Bart De Gols, the answer is simple: connection without words.

In this candid episode, listeners are invited into the remarkable life of Bart De Gols—a man whose journey through music, deep-sea exploration, and the canine mind reveals a profound philosophy rooted in empathy, trust, and presence. Bart’s story begins in Aalst, Belgium, where as a child he trained in trumpet, piano, and organ. That early devotion to classical music didn’t just shape his discipline—it refined his ear for the rhythms and subtleties that now guide his work with dogs.

In 2004, Bart led a joined Andi and National Geographic expedition to the Bunaken twilight zone—a mysterious region of the ocean between light and darkness—diving into the twilight zone to document the elusive Coelacanth fish. The intense focus, silence, and nonverbal coordination demanded in those dives left a lasting imprint on his understanding of communication and trust—principles he would later carry into the world of dog behavior.

After medical retirement from diving in 2005, Bart turned fully to cynology. But the spirit of adventure never left him. In recent years, he’s embraced off-road motorcycling, challenging himself across rugged terrain and translating those lessons directly into his training methods: break challenges into manageable steps, stay calm under pressure, and never underestimate the power of persistence.

Throughout all these pursuits, Bart’s philosophy has remained consistent—real growth begins where words fall short. In his educational series From Tyrant to Teacher and throughout his work, Bart teaches that every dog has a “unique music” of their own, an internal world that deserves to be heard, not silenced. His approach rejects domination in favor of collaboration, guiding struggling dogs through compassion, not control.

This episode explores how Bart’s diverse life experiences—across music halls, ocean depths, and dusty trails—inform his deeply human, deeply spiritual approach to the human-canine bond. For Bart, working with dogs isn’t just a job—it’s a sacred mission.

Podcast Episode · The Canine Deep Dive · 07/10/2025 · 38m

07/08/2025

In this powerful episode 7 of The Canine Deep Dive, we explore the mind of the dog through the lens of cynologist Bart de Gols and his article “Human Decoders.” Dogs are more than just companions—they are highly sensitive interpreters of human behavior, capable of detecting subtle emotional shifts, body language cues, vocal tone, and even hormonal changes. Over thousands of years of co-evolution, they have developed an almost psychic ability to read us—not through magic, but through biology, behavior, and deeply embedded neural adaptations.

This episode unpacks the science behind this extraordinary interspecies connection. While many animals can respond to human signals, dogs are uniquely attuned to us. Research shows that dogs outperform even chimpanzees in understanding human gestures like pointing and gaze-following. This isn’t just learned behavior; dogs are born into a world shaped by human communication. They pay close attention to ostensive cues—signals that indicate communicative intent, such as eye contact, changes in vocal pitch, and body orientation. These cues trigger cognitive shifts in the canine brain, activating regions responsible for empathy, attention, and social processing.

We explore how dogs don’t simply react to what we do—they resonate with how we feel. Dogs exhibit mirror-like brain responses to human emotions. This is called motor resonance, and it allows them to synchronize their behavior with ours in real time. Functional brain studies show that dogs respond to human laughter, crying, and even silence by adjusting their own emotional states. They aren’t just watching us—they’re feeling with us.

Olfaction plays a central role in this decoding ability. Dogs can detect chemical changes in our bodies when we’re anxious, fearful, excited, or ill. Through scent, they can interpret our internal states with astonishing precision—explaining why dogs can be trained to detect seizures, blood sugar changes, or PTSD episodes before they happen. Combined with visual and auditory cues, this makes dogs true multisensory interpreters of the human condition.

But beyond science, there is a poetic truth: dogs understand us. When we meet their eyes, the oxytocin loop is activated in both species—creating a feedback cycle of trust, bonding, and emotional regulation. This is the same hormone responsible for parent-infant bonding. What looks like affection from your dog is actually a profound biological link rooted in evolutionary survival and emotional safety.

Cynologist Bart de Gols challenges us to look beyond obedience and into relationship. A dog’s ability to decode us should reshape how we train, communicate, and live alongside them. When we rely too heavily on commands and forget the emotional context in which those commands exist, we miss the essence of our relationship. Dogs don’t just respond to what we say—they respond to who we are in that moment. Our intentions, energy, and emotional coherence all shape their responses.

This episode invites you to rethink your dog—not as a subordinate, but as a sophisticated social partner whose brain is wired to understand you. Whether you’re a professional trainer, behaviorist, or passionate owner, you’ll come away with a deeper respect for what it truly means to be known by a dog.

Join us for a profound and scientifically grounded conversation about one of the most unique relationships in the natural world. Your dog is decoding you—moment by moment, gesture by gesture, breath by breath. The question is: are you paying attention?

Podcast Episode · The Canine Deep Dive · 07/08/2025 · 41m