How to Raise the Perfect Dog (23 page)

John’s solution to this problem was to tempt Marley with a second stick, based on the theory that a dog tends to want what another dog (or human) has more than he wants the stick he already has in his mouth. After an exhausting day of trial and error, he and his wayward Labrador did make some progress, but his description of the event makes clear two things—one, Marley did not respect John, and two, John was absolutely not his pack leader. Marley was treating John the way he might treat a sibling or a littermate—teasing and cajoling—but a follower does not play “keep-away” from a leader. Marley may have trusted John and been bonded to him, but John didn’t command enough respect from Marley to be able to guide the fast-growing puppy into the Labrador his genes intended him to be.

I have good news for all future Marley owners out there: there is a much easier, more straightforward way to tap into a Labrador’s—or any dog’s—retrieving abilities than playing the frustrating “mine is better than yours” game. It all comes back to the concept of being the pack leader and controlling the game through your connection with your puppy. As soon as Blizzard came home with me, I brought him into the hills at the Santa Clarita Dog Psychology Center to begin unleashing the retriever in his genes. The key—the secret ingredient John Grogan was missing—is eye contact. I take the ball and hold it, immediately getting Blizzard’s attention, because whenever an object moves, it becomes “alive” to a puppy. Then I wait until he is seated, active-submissive, looking into my eyes and waiting for my signal. Only when he is fully engaged in full eye contact with me and is in a waiting mode do I throw the ball. I don’t throw it when he’s overexcited; I don’t throw it when he is fixated on the ball itself. To throw a ball to a puppy when he is fixated on a ball can plant the seeds of obsession. Blizzard is playing the game with
me
, not the ball. I don’t continue the game if he doesn’t retrieve the ball, but since he has acknowledged, with eye contact, that this was my game to begin with, he naturally wants to bring the ball back and go for another round. The game—like any game I play with my dogs—also has a clear beginning, decided by me, and a clear end, decided by me. I communicate that the game has ended by making sure Blizzard is seated and relaxed, not excitedly twitching around, waiting for one more round. This exercise is an example of where connection, communication, and conditioning all combine to fulfill all the needs of our dogs’ natures. The beautiful part is, this behavior is already in a retriever’s DNA. My puppy just needs me to be the one to bring it out in him.

You don’t have to own a Labrador or other sporting-breed dog to play this game successfully with your puppy. With leadership, eye contact, and lots of repetition, a dog of any breed can use the exercise of retrieving to access the “dog” in him. I have raised Junior to be a top-notch retriever—it’s a joy to behold his muscular body racing after the ball, kicking up grass and dust as he sprints over the brown California hills. Pit bulls are not supposed to be retrievers, but Junior always brings me the ball back. In fact, retrieving has become for him a kind of polite gesture of respect for his “superiors”—unbidden, he always brings toys to Daddy, to me, and to any other human he wants to please. Angel, a terrier, is also a great retriever. Using the eye-contact method, he will reliably chase and return any ball. Even Mr. President has learned how to retrieve, with the help of discipline, repetition, and the examples of his fellow pack members. For a born retriever, the reward is in the successful accomplishment of the task itself. For other breeds, you may have to supplement the reward with more praise, petting, or a treat. Whatever breed you may own, don’t underestimate the power of the simple game of fetch to strengthen the connection and bond between you and your puppy.

BEHAVIORAL REWARDS OR INCENTIVES CAN INCLUDE

• Praise, approval, smiles, laughter
  

• Petting, massage, or other form of physical affection
  

• A favorite toy or game
  

• Treats or special meals
  

• The end of a correction (i.e., releasing tension on a leash]
  

• The joy of the activity itself
  

• Your silent but powerful approval
  

Blizzard the Water Dog

If you have access to a swimming pool or live near water, you have at your disposal a wonderful tool to challenge your puppy, drain his energy, and help him get much-needed exercise. Labs, poodles, Newfoundlands, Chesapeake Bay retrievers, German shorthair pointers, Brittany spaniels, and Portuguese water dogs like the Obamas’ Bo are all hunting-retrieving dogs that have water activities in their genes, but pretty much any dog will take to the water if you give him a little encouragement. Swimming is an exercise I recommend also to people who are being cautious about the puppy’s immune system during his first few months. There is no chance of the puppy’s catching the parvo-virus in a chlorinated pool, and it is a fantastic way for you to bond with him as well as to get his body moving. Make sure to supervise at all times, however, and remember to keep your pool fenced in to prevent potentially life-threatening accidents.

How does a dog learn to swim? He dog-paddles, of course! Go into the water ahead of your puppy, and let him watch you enjoying yourself in there. That alone will get his curiosity going… he may actually follow you in on his own. If not, urge him in by bringing him gently with the leash, or letting him follow his nose to a food treat you have with you. Once he’s fully water bound, he may get a little panicky, but don’t panic yourself. Instead, hold his body firmly with your hands and let his legs get into a natural rhythm of paddling. Move him around in the water for a while so he gets used to the feeling. Once you sense he is no longer panicky, you can then take him a very short way—maybe two or three feet—from the pool’s edge and let him swim back.

“But Blizzard’s afraid of the water!” Christian complained to me shortly after he and his family had taken Blizzard into their home, when the puppy was about four months of age. “He just doesn’t want to go in the pool.” Christian was justifiably upset at this turn of events—after all, one of the attractions of the Labrador breed is their storied history as swimmers and aquatic retrievers. As much as Christian and his sister, Sabrina, loved Molly, the older rescued dachshund they adopted from me, they had been dying to have an active, playful dog that would splash around in their backyard pool with them. I reassured Christian that a little hesitation around water does not mean they have a “faulty” Labrador. As with Marley’s first clumsy attempts at retrieving, the genes for Blizzard’s water aptitude are preprogrammed within him. The dogs just need guidance and leadership to bring out those qualities.

I decided to initiate Blizzard into my own backyard pool when he was about five months of age, while shooting the
Dog Whisperer
episode in which I was working in the water with a Lab-mastiff mix named Joe. I’ve turned all our dogs into water dogs. That particular day, Junior, Angel, Mr. President, Jack the Jack Russell, the French bulldog Hardy, and a visiting English bulldog named Chuckie were all joining in the fun. A pit bull, two terriers, and three bulldogs were all swimming with me in the pool as if they’d been born in the water, yet there was one dog still lingering on dry land, hanging back from the water’s edge with his head down and projecting a nervous energy—the only water dog of the bunch, Blizzard.

I placed a nylon leash over Blizzard’s neck, to give me a little more control over him, and set out initially leading him with food. As I drew him toward the water where the rest of his pack were splashing around and having such a great time, he began to shut down. From experience, I knew that offering food to a puppy that has shut down results in rejection, and every rejection weakens the trust between me and him—to him, it means that I am not hearing what he is trying to communicate to me.

Abandoning the food strategy, I took my time, getting into the water myself, coaxing him a little bit closer for several minutes. When he got to the edge, I lifted him up in my arms. I felt his body freeze completely, so I did not put him in the water right away. I held him for about thirty seconds, until I felt him begin to relax, then I went to the “partnership” strategy—putting Blizzard’s two rear feet on the pool stairs in the shallow water. I let him balance his front legs on me while he adjusted to the feeling of the water, then I gently let go. He had to put his front legs somewhere, and found himself sitting upright on the stair in the shallow water. He seemed puzzled to be there, but I could read in his body language that he was figuring out, “Hey, this isn’t so bad.” Clearly, it wasn’t the water itself that was so threatening; it was the transition from dry land to water that seemed to confuse him.

Blizzard exploring the pool

I sat quietly with Blizzard for three more minutes, letting him become accustomed to the sensation; then I waded out a little farther into the pool and tugged lightly on the leash. As his body came forward, I caught it underneath and let him paddle with all fours while he figured out the motion of swimming. I then slowly lessened my hold on his body, until Blizzard left my arms on his own and swam toward the edge of the pool. I brought him back, and after letting him rest a moment, stepped backward and urged him to swim out to me. We repeated this several times, and with each attempt, Blizzard was increasingly comfortable in the water and more confident in his movements.

Next, I practiced walking him from land straight into the water, which he managed without the hesitation he had first shown. He did such a good job, I added a toy to the exercise. Instinctually, Blizzard knew just what to do, swimming back to me with the toy in his mouth. That told me that his genetics were beginning to overpower his original fear of the unknown. Next, I threw the toy far out into the water, and Blizzard excitedly swam right out to retrieve it. I encouraged him with plenty of praise. By the end of the session, he was going in and out of the water and retrieving on his own. We worked on this exercise more than ten times, and in the course of a nearly thirty-minute session, Blizzard went from being a Lab that was afraid of the water, to the water dog he was born to be.

The Nose of a Schnauzer

As a good pack leader, I want to nurture and cultivate all the special skills of the members of my pack, starting early in their puppyhood. Miniature schnauzers got their name from the word
Schnauze
, German for “snout.” They were bred to hunt out rats and other vermin in barns, and suffice it to say, they have a powerful sense of smell. When Angel was only two and three months of age, I started scent-related exercises with him in the garage, using a similar but more advanced technique than I used to nurture Mr. President’s nose. I would hide his food inside an object—say, a cardboard box—and let him find the food and figure out a strategy for getting it from where it was hidden. Connection and communication with me is a part of the exercise, however; when Angel would find the hiding place, he’d look to me for help and acknowledgment. I want to encourage this part of his genetics that knows to alert me, the pack leader, when he has located the object he seeks. (Mr. President, on the other hand, would simply barrel straight ahead toward the prize.) I would use silence as my training command in this case, communicating to Angel that I wanted him to solve the problem by himself. When he finally figured out how to get to the food, it would be his reward, but I would also praise him.