The Crossover Dog Trainer

I am a late bloomer in certain areas, despite sometimes getting an early initial start. One of these areas pertains to dog training methodologies. A brief history, before I launch into my actual point:

I began training dogs (well, a dog; mine) when I was nine years old. I got the job as a result of the professional trainer my parents initially hired for the job quitting. He quit because I was relentless in my challenges to his punitive methods. He just wasn't capable of jerking and slapping my collie around, while simultaneously contending with behavior from me that he couldn't just punish away. I made him have a very hard time doing his job, so he bailed. Good job, little me.

I took up the task of training my dog with intention to teach, rather than brutalize, him. I read books about dog training critically, analyzing them for any inconsistencies, suggestions for the use of cruelty, and ridiculousness that seemed to go against a budding logic based upon observing various neighborhood dogs, and my own dog, doing the things dogs seem to generally do. I kept bits that made sense without being mean, and applied and then refined them.

I evolved, and I was pretty certain I was on the nice-trainer side of the 1970's spectrum. Still, I used the modern tools of the trade, impacted by the culture of my particular time and place. Choke chain? Check. "Pop" the collar? Check. Scold, shame, hit, reprimand? Nope. I was pretty certain if the unwanted consequence seemed (key word, there: seemed) to be coming directly through the environment, the dog would not feel compromised in his trust of me. If anything, after manufacturing an environmentally aversive event, I was quick to model heroics, removing the problem sock or tissue or whatever, and accepting the dog's view of me as protector and safe harbor. Little did I know, I was basically creating Stockholm syndrome for dogs!

I was adhering to a means/end-lite argument. After all, I was a strong advocate of NO PERSONAL PUNISHMENT. I advertised this; I later wrote about it, and lectured about it. I separated the cause-and-effect consequences I rigged, such as penny-can booby traps, as "remote" punishment. My big argument, back in the day was against PERSONAL punishment, directing what I termed as "bipolar" type dog training toward emotionally compromised, dependent, animal friends. I saw the poisoning of eye contact, petting, and spoken words paired with both affection and hostility during so-called training. I really saw myself on the cutting edge, and felt I was pushing for a higher level of human analysis, empathy, and self control in human-dog interactions.

So, more background, or perhaps full disclosure. I dropped out of high school at age 17, to pursue a path of self education in a not-yet-academically recognized field: dog behavior. I missed the opportunity to learn about animal behavior, learning theory, or psychology in general, because I was stuck on a narrow subject. I decided to go it alone. Needless to say, many wheels were reinvented. I came to conclusions I later learned existed, and had strong empirical (vs my anecdotal) evidence backing them. Oh well. Yes, Pavlov. Yes, Skinner. My research supported your findings without me having read yours until after the fact.

But still, I knew I didn't have the whole story, and once I knew I was missing important information, I went looking for it. At the age of 49, I got my GED. I enrolled in community college and did really well. I then got some large scholarships, including the illustrious Jack Kent Cooke Foundation undergraduate transfer scholarship. I transferred to a four-year college and earned my BA in anthrozoology, graduating summa cum laude. Next, grad school, through University of Edinburgh, clinical animal behavior (I'm currently pursuing my MSc). And, I'm still self educating, and peer-educating, as well. Conferences, clinics; check. My point is: I am still trying to figure things out.

Meanwhile, I make my living teaching people how to teach their dogs new ways of behaving. Like most people my age who trained dogs across a spectrum of years, I have moved with the times, dropping outdated methods as new research renders them inappropriate, incorrect, or obsolete. This creates a vacuum, in some cases, where the new methods, based upon science and strong, empirical data, wipe out a set of skills that have become automatic, embedded in my mind, and in some cases, body. I have retained outdated behavioral artifacts; ways of moving, that involved "remote" punishment. "I'm still the good guy but it sucks for you" sorts of things, where on the sliding punishment scale, I used personal judgement for how far I was willing to go. Penny bottle? Sure. Pull-outs (walking backward to allow a forging dog to "self correct")? Yes. Shock collar, also touted as a "remote correction"? NO. But the little bit of punishment, based upon my personal judgement, that I included in my tool box, and shared with students, was like serving some gateway drugs to people who may have different tolerances than me. I was still teaching people how to stop unwanted behaviors (and plainly, that is punishment), rather than exclusively focusing upon teaching dogs what TO DO while managing unwanted behaviors.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about all of this, and watch my students REALLY struggle to let punishment go, despite being intelligent people who truly love their dogs. And I think I have it figured out, because I have felt that struggle. Science shows that punishment rewards the punisher. There is a quick fix; the unwanted behavior stops, often abruptly. Phew! Relief! That barking stopped the second I sneakily dropped the penny bottle on the floor (it wasn't me!). Meanwhile, rewarding silence is a tricky concept. Instead, the dog needs to have energy that would have become barking, as a stress outlet, redirect into new, incompatible, reward-earning actions. Easy, in theory. Difficult when a busy person is struggling to get three things done at once and the dog barking is their inroad to awareness of the back-burnered dog. Stuff gets past even the best-intentioned people, who are truly trying to hold it all together and preempt or manage their dog's unwanted behavior.  People are not always in front of everything their dog does.

When unwanted behavior occurs in the presence of a person who used to use punishment (the "crossover" dog trainer), a collision of sorts may occur in that person's mind. There is a template, in their memory, for a "well behaved" dog that was built from a different set of tools, based on different rules. The expectations are for behaviors based in suppression, inhibition, subordinance, and submission. Their expectation of a "trained dog" looks and performs in ways that will never be replicated using modern methods! Dogs educated using methods that refrain from positive punishment applications are not the same end-result dogs, simply achieved using a different toolbox. They are absolutely different, and might feel foreign, or "off", in comparison with old expectations. The demeanor, intention, motivations, and subject status of dogs has evolved, along with training theories and methodologies. Dogs trained to perform wanted behavior in pursuit of desired (positive reinforcing) consequences feel more "out for number one" and less "seeking to please master" compared with dogs behaving out of caution.

But isn't it time to retire that old dog, and let a new, more self-actualized, confident dog step up? It may take some getting used to, and there may be feelings of vulnerability and frustration. That new dog may feel more like an animal, operating in his own best interest...but what is wrong with that?

Adhering to a plan to replace old habits and ways of viewing dogs and dog training requires patience and determined practice. Mistakes will happen, and that's okay; we are always learning, and our errors help us reconsider, calibrate, and improve. A desire for  a higher level of ethical, reciprocally humane connection with animal-Others remains the guiding light, and modern methods create a well-marked path to follow. It is an uphill climb, at times, but well worth the effort for all involved.

He Barks, She Barks, It Barks: The assignment of gendered stereotypes to neutered pet dogs

            Following on the heels of my last post and specifically my childhood dismay at discovering Lassie was actually portrayed by a series of male dog actors, I suggest the re-gendering of neutered dogs as a fascinating human-animal, conflict-related, anthrozoology research topic. The pet dog is a unique boundary category that often serves as a blank canvas upon which human owners assign meaning and expectation, sometimes in conflict with the biological reality of the species. The conflict aspect of neutering, and later reassigning stereotyped gender, to pet dogs may not seem immediately apparent; dogs have no “say” in whether or not they will be de-sexed, or re-sexed, for the sake of more harmonious cohabitation amongst humans. One might argue dogs are not cognizant of the neutering procedure or its after effects; and I am not arguing for pet dogs to suddenly be liberated or allowed to run amuck in intact sexual abandon. What I am interested in is human perceptions of, and responses to, dog sexes both before and after surgical sterilization.

            Launching off my daughter/ research partner Monica’s areas of research interest, I find it curious that people purchase dogs as commodified animals, but then immediately after their purchases many elevate their pets to the social status of beloved, gendered, family members, even claiming to view them as surrogate male or female “fur-kids.” As these pet-owner identified  canine “children” reach their teen years and begin showing signs of puberty or sexual maturity, their "personhood" may again be temporarily suspended—at least long enough for their owners to have them surgically altered.

            In my professional experience as a dog behavioral trainer, elective surgical neutering of companion dogs is generally argued to be warranted as an act of population control; however it also seems to frequently be motivated by peoples' expectations for post-operative behavioral changes. My clients have cited anticipation of neutering-mitigated behavioral changes including reductions in perceived sexually driven behaviors such as “urine marking,” "roaming," “aggression,” "humping," and "spotting" (from females in estrus.)

            Once dogs have been "neutered," many pet owners reassign the status of gendered personhood to their pets, evidenced by purchases of stereotypical male and female dog "clothing" and equipment in either frilly, sparkly, prissy, "feminine"--or bold, clean-lined, "masculine"--colors, prints and designs. One of the more extreme products available for the regendering of neutered male dogs is "Neuticles"--prosthetic testicles for post-castration implantation in vacated dog scrotums. I am not making this up.

            I would like to conduct research specific to peoples’ perceptions of dog sexes and behavioral expectations both before and after surgical sterilization. My hope is that this research might include interviews with pet owners who have had their dogs implanted with a set of Neuticles, to explore whether quality of life is improved for either the masculinity-enhanced dog or his human family members.

            If any of my imaginary readers would like to join Monica and me in this research, or if any bored Anthrozoology professors would like to sign up to mentor us and guide our homeschool grad school research, please get in touch!

Anthrozoology: Through the "Lassie" Lens

            “Lassie,”  the TV show (featuring a male collie known as “Lassie,” and a male human child, known as "Timmy,") shaped my earliest interest in anthrozoology. This show puzzled me as a young child. From the zoological, or animal-based, aspect, I wondered: Why was a male dog used to portray Lassie? Why was this dog so obedient, despite being repeatedly referred to as “Girl?” Why was the dog always looking past “Timmy” while he was addressing “her?” Focusing on the other side of my lines of questioning, the “anthro” or human part, I pondered: Why were people willing to make shows that fooled children like me about dogs? Why did Timmy constantly get into avoidable trouble and then repeatedly require Lassie to bail him out? Were dogs actually smarter than human children, as this show implied? 

             I performed experiments.

             I had a collie of my own, named Blue, with whom I reenacted some pretend endangerment scenarios, similar to those Timmy was always getting himself into. Luckily, being smarter than Timmy or his script writers, I took the safe route, calling for help from various ground-level hiding places. Despite compelling performances, Blue totally ignored me. Had I been dumb enough to climb into a well, I’d still be rotting there. Not satisfied with results from my one research subject, I tried similar experiments with many neighbors' dogs and discovered the same discrepancy between Lassie and real dogs. One time, maybe, they took the bait and came looking; after that I was an odd kid who couldn't find her own way out from behind a garage.

            I realize, now, the scientific merit of my childhood experiments was totally lacking, yet they still came to meaningful fruition, introducing the budding lens of anthrozoological  inquiry. And though Blue never tried to save me, I owe him, my neighbors’ dogs, and especially Lassie gratitude for launching me into a well of curiosity that became—and remains--my lifelong field of study. 

Getting Started...Time to Read, Right?

So, just exactly where does a 
                     "homeschooling anthrozoology grad student"
                                                                                                                           begin?

Perhaps sharpening some pencils. This might sound silly, but I am not kidding.

As an undergrad, in anticipation of the start of each new term, I did enjoy the little preparatory steps of obtaining my books, notebooks, and writing implements, and then neatly organizing them in my school bag:

Sort of like the way I once color coded, anally-retentively folded, and carefully organized my firstborn child's onesies while waiting to pop her out.

Like school, once things got started, the sense of slight control and resulting enjoyment found in the little details fell by the wayside. There was a lot of shit to deal with, and by the time my third child rolled around, the onesies were lucky to find there way back into the dresser.

That same firstborn, my daughter Monica, now 28 years old and thoroughly potty trained, has played a significant supporting role in my better-late-than-never formal education. She has (sometimes reluctantly, but fair enough) served as a role model and easily accessible consultant. She was well equipped, having attended the University of Chicago as an (anthropology) undergrad, and she is a straight-up smarty-pants:

Monica has taken her studies where my anecdotal experience once could never travel, into the realm of animal personhood, pet animal acquisition, commodification of animals, and other cool academic perspectives on the human-nonhuman animal bond. In fact I just now called her to confirm her areas of focus before sharing them here. Luckily she is generally very patient with me...and she works for me, as an associate dog behavioral trainer (our day job, folks--homeschooling isn't cheap):

 

So, I invited Monica to be my (our?--Are you there other people? It's me, Margaret!) 
                                               first classmate!

She can serve as a sort of TA, actually. She has already made some good suggestions for our first reading materials, including Donna Harraway's Companion Animal Manifesto, which we both own copies of. I have a lot of books that address some of the topics of interest. Rather than tediously creating a bibliography, I will share a look at some of my books the lazy homeschooler way:

Got any suggestions? Please feel free to add them in the comments section, below, 

because it IS time to start reading...right?

Anthrozoology Drop-Out :(

So, quite recently I was an Anthrozoology graduate-student-to-be, proudly but anxiously enrolled at Canisius College. This only lasted for a week or so...because I dropped out before classes ever began.

I was also a Jack Kent Cooke Foundation Continuing Scholar Graduate Award recipient for a few weeks as well...but I dropped that, too.

I do not feel good about my decisions at the moment, but a couple of months ago, on the heels of graduating with a bachelor of arts degree from North Central College in...what else?...Anthrozoology!...I became completely overwhelmed and exhausted, and sadly, just saying no seemed like a solid idea.

Now I am feeling some regret.

I balked at the thought of writing one more paper, added to the existing load of a disabled daughter, a house under construction, a husband about to undergo surgery, a fifteen year old son on high school swim team, a dog training business to run, and a brand new litter of German Shepherd puppies born two days before my graduation, well...yeah. I was pretty overwhelmed. And I have no vices to fall back on, to aid coping during those tough times that seem to crop up WAY too frequently. I try to ride stress out, but sometimes it rides me, and wears me down.

Did I mention that I am 53? (Actually I'll be 54 in less than two months.)
No, but there it is; I am. Old. At least for my college years.

I was a late bloomer. I dropped out of school at 17 to pursue self education and self employment. Despite being perpetually interested in almost everything, especially animal behavior, I was really lonely. I missed out on a large part of the learning experience, namely discourse, though I didn't know that up until four years ago. That is when, one cold January day, I took the GED at our local (wonderful!) community college, the College of DuPage. I did pretty well, there, and they featured me in some press: Student Spotlight: Peggy Moran.

My late-in-life scholarly pursuits have been good for me, if grueling; and now, unplugged and a drop-out again, I feel pretty discouraged.

But enough about me; I want to talk about Anthrozoology, the multidisciplinary academic field also known as human-nonhuman animal studies.

I intend to use this blog as my own, hopefully-not-but-probably-once-again-pretty-lonely, compensatory attempt to self-educate. No more scholarship? No problem!

I am going to be a grad school homeschooler!  

Despite that sounding just as weird as it is, if you are reading this, please consider being my classmate. I am not trying to get a degree, or even a better job; I am just very, very interested in connections, especially ones that pertain to other living beings of both the human and nonhuman sort. Maybe you are, too.

Perhaps we can learn together, you and I--provided there is a you out there, reading this...
I sure hope so!