Calm, assertive energy is the energy you project to show your dog you are the pack leader. Assertive does not mean angry, or aggressive. Calm-assertive means always compassionate, but quietly in control.
- Cesar Millan
Joe and I will attend a lecture and demonstration tonight by Cesar Millan, the brilliant dog whisperer, who will be at the Midland Center for the Arts to talk to a packed house about how dogs think and behave in response to our (mis)cues. He’ll demonstrate what’s possible in terms of educating a dog- and its owner. I’ve always admired his command of all aspects of their lives, and I’ve applied his lessons with great results.
Here’s an example of his suble influence: Eight month ago I decided to shampoo, towel-dry, nail-clip, blow-dry and comb out Bryn, instead of employing a groomer. I had the time. I just needed the knowledge. Bryn’s breeders at Acme Creek Kennels had introduced her gradually to these procedures when she was a very young puppy. But still, when I decided to take on this time-consuming task myself, Bryn was understandably wary.
Nothing looked like what she’d been used to, the few times she’d been to PetSmart’s groomers.
Different = not sure, Boss.
(“Dogs will always be attracted to calm, assertive energy.” - Cesar Millan)
So. We’d learn calmly, together. When she passed her first birthday I decided to teach her new words-‘paws, ‘tail,’ ‘ears,’ ‘eyes’ and ‘nose’ when I handled them during her daily brush-outs. I always took my time, for example, when untangling a burr, and used the word ‘gentle’ as I patiently eased stubborn prickles out.
Running water and my use of big plastic pitchers had to be accepted, too, and she’d need to remain still, and not vigorously shake off water until given permission. So, ‘hold still’ would be useful. (For two summers I bathed her with sun-warmed hose water, and she was good at not bolting after the first time. She got lots of praise for standing her ground.)
A careful, repetitive, loving general education with this new goal in mind has certainly paid off.
Today I invited her into the bathroom, and pointed to the tub. “hop in, Bryn.” The warm water was running, but she’d grasped the benign nature of running water long ago, so obeying that was easy. She walked to the filling tub and hopped in. I then poured plastic pitchers of warm water all over her multiple times, until she was drenched. She stood quietly. I squeezed a generous rope of doggy shampoo up and down her spine and massaged it in, using my hands and a handled scrub brush. Soon her coat was white again.
“Bryn, lift your paw.” She thought. (It takes a few seconds for her to process requests. I can actually watch her work it out.) Paw... o.k., Boss. She lifted it and I held it and scrubbed that furry leg up and down. I repeated the request three more times.
I scrubbed her belly, bottom, tail, chest and finally her face. I filled the pitcher over and over and poured, beginning with her muzzle (keeping her earflaps down), and continuing along her entire body while chatting softly. Then, dirty water went down the drain. Fresh water was introduced. I saw her hunch, ready to shake, and reminded her- “ No shake. You must wait.” (“Dogs do know how comfortable you are with yourself, how happy you are, how fearful you are, and what is missing inside you.” CM)
I’m the boss. I knew it. She knew it. She waited.
Next, I squeezed a long rope of conditioner along her spine and worked it all around her girth while the tub filled. When it was deep enough I pitcher-rinsed her all over until I was satisfied. The second tub of water drained while I dried her face gently (choosing that word to describe my actions), then spread the towel along her back and neck to blot up more water. Her tail and legs, now standing in an empty tub, were last. I asked for a paw, dried it, and asked for another. Two sopping face towels later I asked her to hop out of the tub. “No shake, Bryn. You must wait.” She hopped out and waited, back hunched with need as I hurriedly towel-dried her once again, kneeling on the bathroom floor. (Goodwill has lots of serviceable elderly towels that are perfect for this job.) Then I opened the bathroom door into the carpeted music room. She went into it and I followed right behind.
“OK! Shakey-shake!” (I shook myself to demonstrate.) She vigorously shook, over and over, and rubbed her muzzle along the carpet, groaning with pleasure. Five shakes later I asked her to lie down.
Hairdryer time.
Some months ago she’d inspected this machine thoroughly, and had watched me dry my own hair lots of times- and then pat it affectionately when I was done.
(I patted the vacuum, too. Bryn would watch, note, and think.
Vacuums, though obnoxiously noisy, have since been deemed harmless.)
She lay down on the carpet where I indicated, and, with eyes closed, enjoyed feeling my fingers rake and fluff while the dryer did its job.
*Iron-Clad Rule: I always put my hand exactly where the dryer is pointing. This safety measure insures she’s never burned. Those things can get really hot if one lingers just an instant too long.
Thirty minutes later Bryn was completely dry- and half-asleep, I noted, when I’d rolled her over to dry her other side. (I always say, “Ooooverrr we go” every morning, so rolling her over now was a familiar thing.
Finally, I began the comb-out. (She’s brushed every morning: it’s another feel-good way to bond, and I reinforce words she knows – ‘paw,’ ‘ear,’ ‘nose,’ ‘tail’- before I approach that part of her.) Today she sleepily lifted each named one, or didn’t resist when I lifted.
Lastly, her toenails were clipped. She dozed. (I always cut a bit long, to be certain I don’t draw blood. One mistake and the jig is up.)
(By the way, this five-part shampoo process takes about 1.5 to 2 hours every few weeks, when doggy odor causes my nose to wrinkle.)
A few more minutes and I was done. She strutted about, pleased with herself. Bryn knows when she looks great.
Finally, it was time to offer a doggy cookie. I call any bully stick (Cesar’s highly recommended treat) or little square treat ‘a cookie.’ Today she scarfed down one small, grain-free peanut butter/honey one before retreating to her sheepskin cave to snooze.
I enjoyed a little chunk of a Toblerone dark chocolate bar, washed down with a bracing cup of tea.
Well done, old girl.
Educating Bryn does take a ton of time, and careful, uncluttered word selections.
Teaching each other, and learning the best ways to communicate is a fascinating experience. We both employ patience, persistence, demonstrations, more patience, repetition, repetition, sprinkled with respect and deep affection.
Each link in the chain of understanding enrichens both of us.
(I do have to admit another secret of my success:
She is a very mellow dog.)