the first thing

The very first thing I taught Maya was that human-dog communication was possible. Oh, I tried to teach her things before that.  Like not to be scared of stairs, which involved luring her with treats. I have since learned that luring is not the best idea with phobias, but Maya was more inexperienced with stairs than outright phobic. It took me a while to learn the right way to help her, and I certainly made some errors along the way.

But the first thing I taught her was that we could communicate.  I don't think she had any idea before...she was watchful, careful, and sweet, and completely clueless about life with humans.

Clicker training is the single area of dog training in which I've had actual, formal training from real trainers.  I even had a clicker already, long before we had Maya.  So, a day or two after she came home, I pulled out the clicker and a handful of dog treats, and set to.

I was working on a 'sit,' which is an easy thing to lure and a pretty simple movement for most dogs.  I loaded the clicker, lured a sit, clicked, treated, and repeated.  Then I quit luring, and started simply shaping -- letting Maya direct her own actions, and rewarding those that moved her toward a sit gesture.

Needless to say, she'd never done any clicker training before.  No shaping either.  She was very interested in the treats in my hand, and desirous of getting them into her mouth, but the idea that she could make that happen via her own actions hadn't yet occurred to her.  I waited, clicked a squat that turned into a sit, treated, and stepped back.  She stepped toward me tentatively, and sat.  Click, jackpot.  I stepped back again.  Maya stepped forward, sat, I clicked and held out a treat.

She leaped about four feet in the air and let out one shatteringly joyful bark.  Forget the treats!  She'd just learned that dog-human communication was possible, a better reward than any number of dog snacks.  It was one of the single most amazing emotional reactions I'd seen.

And here's a photo of puppy Maya, age 7-8 months.

Maya meets a puppy

Last weekend, Maya was attacked by two off-leash dogs.  Brian had her out for a run, and as they jogged past a woman with two dogs, one barked.  She said, "Oh, don't worry, that one doesn't attack."  Whereupon the other one attacked.

So I've spent the week trying to make sure that Maya didn't absorb any negative lessons from her experience.  Lots of walks around other dogs, lots of positive reinforcement for any exposure to them.  Yesterday, we arranged for a trip down to the Santa Fe shelter (the shelter from which we adopted Maya).

I explained to them that I have a challenging pup, who is reactive to both humans and dogs.  I also said that if we could find a dog with good social skills (especially dog-dog skills), and if Maya got along with it, we'd be open to adoption.  They were enthusiastic about a meet-and-greet, so we set one up with Sarabi, a lovely two-year-old puppy.

It went pretty well.  Maya was nervous and jumpy about being in a new place (that smelled like strange dogs and was full of strange humans).  She greeted Sarabi with raised hackles, and then immediately tried to hide behind Brian.  Then peeked out, tiptoed around, and said hi again.  Eventually, the hackles went down, and she slowly relaxed.

Two great things, from my perspective.  First, Maya had no problem backing away and de-escalating the situation.  This was something she had a lot of trouble with as a wild puppy, and something we've worked really hard to help her learn.  So it was great to see her being so conflict-averse.  Second, she eventually relaxed all the way from the shoulders back...just loose, waggy, and only mildly stressed.  To be in a new place, with new people and new dogs, and still manage that degree of relaxation is really, really great for Maya.

The third thing, less surprising but rather delightful, was that she checked in over and over and over again.  She checked in with me, she checked in with Brian, and she never stopped responding to our words and postures.  She solicited cuddles when she was stressed, which I found cute, hid behind us for safety, and did a little bit of guarding us from the strange dog (less cute, but interesting).  Overall, for Maya, this was a terrific performance.

So we're repeating it today.  They never got to a point where they were comfortable playing together (Sarabi did some face-licking, but Maya was horrified by it), and I'm hoping they get that far today.  Even if they don't, I hope Maya keeps learning these calm, happy sorts of lessons...it's so good for her.

Update: it went even better today (more relaxation in every way for Maya), but still no play.  No new dog for us!  Even so, it was a terrific experience and great for me to see my dog handling a stressful situation so well.  Good weekend!

two-way communication

One of my winter projects was to teach Maya an "outside" cue.  Not a cue I give her -- one she can give me to signal that I need to get up and let her out to pee/sniff/take care of important dog business.  Once that was established, I started working on a second cue to signal "dinner time." 

Two thoughts I had going in.  First, that deliberately giving control of those decisions to my dog feels good to me, but seems to go against a certain amount of general dog training advice.  Second, I was pretty sure this would be a little overwhelming for Maya, especially at the beginning.

On the first issue, my motivation stems largely from a lack of satisfaction over certain elements of the relationship Maya and I share.  I know a lot of people have strong feelings about dog-human relationships and how to characterize them -- are we pets and owners? companions and guardians? fur-children and faux-parents?  teammates? partners? -- and I have my own preconceptions and preferences.  Maya is her own person and also my property, she is my companion and perhaps someday my partner.  But she isn't my partner now: we do not make decisions, or take action, equally.

For me, there's no issue with thinking of pets as property (in a very real sense, they are), but I don't think of my pets as my children.  I realize that doing do is a way to encompass a very important idea about pets as dependent members of the family, and I don't have an issue with people who find the characterization apt. But thinking of dogs as children consigns them to a juvenile status that simply doesn't suit me; I want Maya to be an adult member of her own species, not a juvenile member of mine.

Maya is just on the cusp of adulthood, and hasn't quite crossed over yet.  When I first got her, she was younger than I thought (the shelter said a year or more, the vet said about seven months old), and I knew almost nothing about dog development anyway.  I was honestly unprepared for the sheer youth of the dog I was adopting, and she was completely unprepared for life among humans.

I needed Maya to accept my version of the world ("it is safe"), and could not listen to or give credence to hers ("everything is very dangerous, bark bark bark").  I deliberately stripped her of all decision-making abilities, narrowed her life down to predictable situations, and refused to listen to her when she got over-excited.

Her behavior improved, but I wasn't happy with where this put our relationship.  I want her to grow up, and I want communication between us to be a two-way street.  So, this winter, I decided to start giving her back control over her own life.

The question of whether Maya is capable of dealing with this remains open.  I started by teaching a very simple cue (she stands or sits, quietly, and rests her head on the arm of my chair, or with her nose touching my elbow) for her to signal a need to go outside.  It took about three seconds for Maya to realize she now had a way to signal "give me attention!!"  She promptly started signaling for attention all the time.  After some thought, I responded by getting up the first time and opening the back door, and then ignoring all subsequent attempts for about half an hour afterward.  So far, I am not certain she is getting the message.

Then I taught her that she could give the same signal, followed by a sit with eye contact, to obtain dinner anytime after 6 pm (she was previously on a fixed 8am & 8pm meal schedule).  Other than a few obvious attempts to signal for dinner at 6, 6:15, 6:30, and 6:45, that went a lot more smoothly.  Maya is used to the routine of a single evening meal, so I don't think she was really expecting unlimited food access. 

I know Maya enjoys the new signals, though she mis-uses them constantly...obviously, she has not read the same dog training books I have.  I think we are slowly narrowing in on a precise meaning for each cue, and that she's figuring out how to maximize her rewards with each (signaling for dinner works just once, signaling to go outside works only occasionally).  Because we're still ironing out the kinks, I'm not sure whether I've really given Maya more control over her life or just used my control to give her some new behavior options.  Either way, I think we both enjoy the training game!

And this is Maya's face right before we went on a walk.  The last words out of my mouth were, "Only good dogs get to go on this walk."  Clearly, she is skeptical.