Walking a High-Energy, Distracted Dog, part one

Names have been changed, and all pictures are from Google, to protect the privacy of my clients.

Recently I started walking a new dog. "Sherman" is a two-year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback. He is lean and leggy, very athletic, and super interested in everything around him. A good-looking dog!

He was relinquished to a rescue by his previous owner because she couldn't handle his energy level, she found him difficult to control on walks, and she was embarrassed by his behavior on leash. Now my client is fostering him until a perfect home can be found, and she's asked me to help Sherman with his manners. 

My client tells me that Sherman pulls on the leash. He is excitable and distracted by everything: birds, people, cars going by, a weird noise, just everything. When he sees something particularly interesting, like another dog, he lunges and barks, stands on his hind legs, and squeals. Well, that all sounds very interesting! Let's get a leash on Sherman and see how he does for me.

When a dog pulls on the leash, I assume it's because no one has told him not to in a way that he could understand. So I shorten the leash a little and spend some time in the yard letting Sherman learn that there is a place next to me where it is very comfortable; where he can sniff and go along and get pats and be told he is a good boy --- but that if he moves out of that place next to me, then he will be uncomfortable as I "check" on the leash, giving short, sharp tugs until he gets back to where he should be. 

I don't pull him back into place. If he's pulling and I'm pulling, then we're both miserable and communication has failed. He will just pull harder against me, and then I have to pull him more-- it turns into a real battle! These short tugs (checks, pops, whatever you want to call them) don't give him anything to pull against, and he can't lean into the uneven pressure. The instant he moves back next to me, my hands go still, the leash goes slack, and he is a good boy in a comfortable place again.

After a few minutes, Sherman is getting the idea. It takes nearly constant correction, but he's not upset, nervous, or scared. Confused, maybe, but that's okay. He's learning. He'll get it. 

Out on the street, I choose a route that I know is generally quiet. I want to keep distractions to a minimum while Sherman keeps learning. There's a lot to sniff and explore and Sherman wants to zoom here and there to check it all out, but I insist he stay by me. Every now and then, I ask him to sit, and then I stand still while giving him the command "Okay, go ahead." and giving him more leash. He can move all around me in a 12-foot circle, sniffing and exploring the area. This is a reward and gives him a break from the hard work of learning to heel. After a bit, I ask him to "Line up!" which means he is to come to my left side and stand facing forward, ready to walk on. 

Generally, I ask "Line up!" and wait for the dog to look at me before saying "Let's go!" and stepping out, but Sherman just doesn't have the attention for it. I could stand here going grey with age while Sherman looks at that bird over there, and ooh, what was that noise? Did you see that car go by? Hey, a leaf blew off that tree. The ground here smells weird. Look, a stick! I have a tail! My ear itches. There's a bug! Airplane! etc etc etc... 

I can't wait that long. So I decide to forego his eye contact in favor of keeping his active attention with my motion. Walk with me, dog. Okay, let's keep going! 

Suddenly a woman with a fluffy white dog steps out of a driveway hedgerow a few yards ahead of us. Sherman freezes, then is up on his hind legs, leaning on the leash, and -- yep, there he goes, The Squeal.  The woman glares at us, startled. The noise is really piercing! I check him back, turning sharply to walk back the way we came, taking him around off-balance so he has to get back on all fours. "Let's go!" I say brightly, and stride with purpose. 

Our time for this walk is almost up anyway, so we head for home. Overall, I'm pretty happy with what I've seen of Sherman. He's a smart dog, and I think he'll learn very quickly. When I correct him, he doesn't get upset or sulky, which tells me that he hasn't been roughly handled in the past. He just has never been taught anything -- at least not in a way that made sense to him -- so he is just doing what he thinks is best. His confidence will grow as he learns, and I bet we can put an end to The Squeal. 

I have to go now, it's time to walk Sherman! Tune in next time and I'll show you some on the ways we're working on attention.