Wednesday, October 01, 2008

What Goes Around...

Rubin is back under my desk. It's early and we're both tired. I woke at 4 and couldn't fall back to sleep so I got up and came downstairs to muddle through some bills and papers. Ann got up at 6 and shortly after, Rubin followed. Now Rubin and I are both hunkered down in the study with me trying to write (my mind feels fuzzy) and Rubin trying to sleep.

He had a tough day yesterday. Our visit with Katie, the trainer, went well though it exhausted him. I guess it exhausted me as well. Mental work is far more tiring than physical and he's still feeling the effects of it this morning. As for the training, I have mixed feelings though it was clear that the "vibration" collar gets Rubin's attention.

This has been the difficulty -- Rubin, at certain times, decides not to listen. This can be annoying -- when you have to leave the park and he won't come to get his leash on, bouncing around and playfully barking at you -- but it can also be frightening -- when he chased after a bicycle at night across a busy street. I understand the reasons behind all of it -- sort of -- though Katie enlightened me more yesterday.

He is in his "adolescent" stage. He is, typical of smaller poodles (of which he is part of), nervous and aware making him sensitive to sounds and sights. When he reacts to these sensitivities, he does so from a place of fear. "He lacks confidence," Katie told me, "And it has nothing to do with how he was raised, but rather with the breed of dog he is."

I have a dog with a fragile self esteem. Great.

"He needs to learn," Katie advised me, "that coming to you is how he avoids his fear. You need to represent safety and leadership."

She strapped on the vibrating collar after demonstrating it on me. It felt like a phone vibrating against my skin. It didn't hurt, it didn't over-vibrate, it didn't really seem like much at all.

But that's my opinion. Rubin had a much different reaction.

Let me back up a bit. I watch the Dog Whisperer religiously. I find Cesar Milan to be a fascinating dog "philosopher" teaching his clients (the humans) to be confident pack leaders. Often, when he's working with a dog who has fears, the dog throws a wild tantrum at the end of the leash. Cesar's response is always "This is good." While the dog is in a tantrum, he keeps the leash tight and once the dog relaxes, he relaxes the leash. "I want the dog to know," he says, "that when he does the right thing, the tension on the leash goes away."

Often the owners of these dogs freak out a bit watching their dogs flip and flop and whine and whimper and growl and snarl at the end of the leash. Watching it on TV, I completely understand. It's just like a kid in the grocery store. If you give her the candy when she's screaming she will scream every time. If you just let her scream (as hard and embarrassing as it is) and don't give in, she won't scream the next time.

So when Katie called Rubin to her and he did not come, I shouldn't have been surprised when she said "no" and pressed the vibration button on the remote collar that Rubin would throw a tantrum. I guess I just never expected his tantrum to emotionally impact me. When the vibration hit his neck, he took off, spinning and biting his tail in a flurry of fur and whimpers. He headed straight for the door of the training room and slammed himself into the corner of the room in a panic.

I had to turn away. I couldn't watch. I had become one of those weak dog owners on the Dog Whisperer. She was "hurting" my dog and I wanted it to stop. Katie saw me turn. I explained what I was feeling and she said, as calmly as Cesar, "It doesn't hurt. It's just different and now he has gone into panic mode. He needs to think his way out of it."

He did, of course, but it took about 5 minutes and for the next hour, he was nervous. We only used the collar three times after that because, true to the intelligent side of his breeds, he learned quickly that when we said, "Rubin, come here" he could avoid any "acts of God" by making the right choice. Even after we got home, a "Rubin, come here" command had an instantaneous response.

By the evening, he was a little less certain if he wanted to follow the command, but one firm "no" snapped him out of it.

This morning, then, I woke thinking about the collar. We ordered one (none to cheap), but I had second thoughts. Maybe I just need to work with the long leash some more and really get him to come back 100% of the time instead of the 90% of the time I was accepting. Maybe if I worked harder with him, I could trust him more off leash. Maybe he would no longer chase a bicycle or bark like a madman at strangers on a forest trail. Maybe the one lesson was enough.

I debated the other side as well. One mistake could get him killed. I don't completely trust him to come back to me and when he doesn't or when he plays keep away, I get frustrated. I need something that's going to reinforce the command and clearly, the vibrating collar did just that. It's only a vibration, I told myself. I am not shocking him or hurting him in any way. Hell, when I put on his raincoat he goes into the exact same panic because he doesn't like how the coat feels on his body.

That's silly.

Then I thought about Katie's words: He lacks confidence. When he feels insecure, he barks, he runs, he misbehaves because he goes into another state of mind. He needs to think his way back to confidence. The collar snaps him out of the panic. The collar reminds him that the safe place is by your confident side. The more you take on that role and the more he sees you in that role, the more confident he will become. He's a smart guy. You'll probably not have to use the collar after awhile except on occasion when he regresses a bit, but once he gets it, he'll come back to you every time he's called.

Okay, it makes sense, but it's hard to trust the process.

This, I imagine, is exactly what all those parents felt when I talked to them about their children. Boundaries, rules, and limitations, Cesar Milan always says. He also says, Exercise, Discipline, and then Affection. This is how I taught children. It's how I thought I was teaching my dog, but I guess every parent needs to be reminded of their role even if it's sometimes a difficult pill to swallow.

The collar will arrive some time next week. He is to wear it 24/7, but we are not allowed to use it for the first week. He must get used to wearing it and have no negative association with the collar. When the "act of god" hits, he's to think it actually came from god and not the collar. Then, when we do use it, it must be in controlled settings where he cannot bolt across a street or off into the woods.

This morning, when I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking of Katie's words -- It won't take long. He's really smart. He'll get it. This will build his confidence. It will help him relax. Give it time and stay consistent.

God, how many times have those exact words come from my teacher's mouth!?!

Rubin just lifted his head from underneath the desk. Ann is about to leave for work and now Rubin's up and worried. "Rubin, come here," I call and what do you know, he comes.

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