News

I ran across a great article written by a smart-cookie veterinarian. You can see the whole article here. Here are the 10 myths – find any you believed before you read the article? Leave a comment and let me know which myth surprised you the most.

Myth #1: Puppies shouldn't go to puppy classes until they've received all their vaccinations.

Myth #2: Crazy owners have crazy pets.

Myth #3: My dog is fearful/aggressive/shy because she was abused as a puppy.

Myth #4: This new medication will treat your pet's [insert behavior problem here].

Myth #5: Dogs who are aggressive are dominant. (No matter what any Whisperer says!)

Myth #6: My dog knows he's been bad – see how guilty he looks?

Myth #7: If you use treats to train your dog, they'll always be needed for your dog to comply.

Myth #8: Dogs chase their tails because they're bored.

Myth #9: Any trainer can handle all behavior problems.

Myth #10: I don't have time for behavior cases. (This one is specifically meant for veterinarians.)

If you were surprised that any of these were myths, you're probably not the only one. Print the article out and take it to your vet.

I hear this a lot from dog owners: "I want my dog to behave because he respects me." Or "My dog should listen because I say so."

Sorry to break the bad news but: It doesn't work that way!

Not with dogs, not with people, not with cats, rats, or cows. There's got to be something in it for the animal. I ask my clients to make a list of the things they do for their dogs each day that the dog absolutely loves. I also ask them to make another list of the things they do with their dogs that their dog loves.

Once they've spent a week making their lists, I help them decide how they can use those things as rewards when their dog listens to them.

All too often, people get caught up in this mentality: "I want my dog to work for praise, so that's what he's going to get when he complies with my request." Trouble is, if praise isn't very rewarding to your dog, you're not really rewarding the behavior. If you're not rewarding the behavior, it WILL NOT get stronger. It will, in fact, probably get weaker. So you're just shooting yourself in the foot if you're stuck in the "my dog will do it because…" mentality.

KNOW YOUR DOG. Know what he loves. Then use that stuff to reward the good behavior. I guarantee you'll see more good behavior the more you reward your dog with the stuff HE likes, and less with the stuff YOU think he should like.

Three times this week, clients have resisted when I've suggested using peanut butter, chicken, cream cheese (or anything they thought was "people food") to entertain or teach their dog. Here in the Smart Dog household, our dogs get a huge variety of food — dog food, dog treats, people food, even cat food! So I was quite curious about the reasons behind the resistance to use people food to reward or entertain their dogs.

Each client had the same response: "I don't want my dog to beg." I told my clients to rest easy, feeding their dog people food does not lead to begging. Feeding your dog from the table, now that leads to begging!

Another client said she didn't want her dog to know how good people food really tastes. If he never tasted it, he'd never want it. If your dog has never ever had roasted chicken in his life, he's still going to know that roasted chicken probably tastes darn good. Their nose tells them that, not their tongues.

So don't worry about feeding your dog people food. After all, what do you think is in their dog food? Chicken, beef, vegetables — it's all people food! Your dog can enjoy people food, just be sure you don't feed him from the table (or the couch, or wherever you're eating).

This is why I do what I do. I will never be a millionaire, but if I can save just one dog, I'll be rich in ways that money can never touch…

A letter from a dog – "How Could You?"

by Jim Willis

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.

You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a
couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I
was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask, "How could you?" —
but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were
terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights
of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret
dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice
cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you
said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at
the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and
more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently,
comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you
about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when
you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" — still I welcomed her into
our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy
because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared
your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled,
and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might
hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to
a dog crate.

Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As
they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and
pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes,
investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything
about them and their touch — because your touch was now so infrequent
— and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak
into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and
together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you
produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me.
These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject.
I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented
every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity
in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that
does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family,"
but there was a time when I was your only family.


I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal
shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You
filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home
for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. T hey understand
the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had
to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed, "No,
Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and
what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty,
about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely
refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to
meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said
you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no
attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked,
"How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules
allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At
first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it
was you that you had changed your mind — that this was all a bad
dream… or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who
might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking
for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I
retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I
padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet
room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to
worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there
was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.
As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she
bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your
every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear
ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort
you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my
vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body,
I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could
you?"


Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry."
She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I
went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or
abandoned, or have to fend for myself — a place of love and light so
very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy,
I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could
you?" was not directed at her.

It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I
will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life
continue to show you so much loyalty.

A Note from the Author:

If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it
did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of
the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American
& Canadian animal shelters.

Tango was a regular companion for 2 1/2 years with my husband as he visited his mother at the assisted living facility each week. My mother-in-law died earlier this month and we were invited back to the assisted living facility for a memorial service in her honor. We took Tango, of course, as he was as much a part of their family as he was ours.

We hadn't been back to the assisted living facility with Tango in over three months. The last place he'd visited my mother-in-law was the hospice house.

After the memorial, we were walking through the facility visiting some of my mother-in-law's friends one last time before we left. We had to pass my mother-in-law's apartment to get to the exit. We approached from the opposite direction we normally went.

As we approached her apartment, not intending to stop (as there were new residents in the apartment), Tango stopped. So, of course, I stopped. Tango looked at me (his signal that he'd like permission to go sniff). I glanced curiously at my husband; surely Tango didn't remember that this was her place? To our surprise, he walked right over to her door and sniffed under it. He then looked at us as if to say "Here's where you want to go, silly. You were going to go right past."

We couldn't go in, of course. So he looked a little confused when I called him away and kept walking. I don't know he remembered the actual apartment or if it was the scent – or maybe a little of both – but it really brought home to me how aware our dogs are of their surroundings.

I've read that scent invokes strong memories for humans. What summer memories come rolling in when you smell fresh-cut grass first thing in the spring, how you're transported right back to age 8 when you smell fresh-baked apple pie (or whatever scent you've associated with childhood)… I wonder if it's the same thing with dogs? Curious phenomenon, for sure.

Earlier this month, I posted on the (few) pros and (mostly) cons of retractable leashes. Here's some more on the dangers of those retractable leashes. One woman actually lost her finger to one of these leashes – if that's not reason enough to want to switch leashes, I don't know what is.

From the Consumer Reports website:
Retractable-leash makers do put some pretty stark warnings about
their products on their Web sites and on the packaging. Germany-based Flexi, one of the largest manufacturers of the leashes, has a long page of warnings on it Web site. Here’s how it begins:

“To
avoid the risk of eye or face injury and cuts, burns, and amputations
to your body or the body of another person from the leash cord/tape or
all belt and hook, (sic) read and follow these Warnings and Directions for Use before using your Flexi leash.”

Read the entire article on retractable leashes here.