Every dog exhibits some kind of unwanted behavior from time to time. Some of the most stubbornly unpleasant behaviors result from a dog’s reactivity to his surroundings; that is, from fear and anxiety that are not under the dog’s control. Unfortunately, those sequences have often become deeply ingrained because we, as owners, have unwittingly reinforced them. For example, take a dog that reacts poorly to the loud sound of fireworks: when we coddle and comfort this frightened dog, we are actually encouraging the anxious behavior to persist. Punishing him is out of the question, so how can we approach this mutual problem for the best chance of mutual success?

The answer is often to examine and adjust our own behavior first. Our gut response to a troubling behavior is to pounce immediately and address it directly. Stifle that urge, if you are able, because it is not the best way to “iron out” stubborn behaviors. A hot iron works wonders when used properly, but you’d never place it directly on top of the worst wrinkles. The resulting creases will be set in and even more difficult to remove. Use the same principle in trying to repair unacceptable or unwanted behaviors in your pet. Don’t set them in permanently because you rushed in without thinking.

Here’s an example: Rufus barks like a vicious monster when the neighborhood kids walk past his yard twice a day. It’s so repetitive and pointless that it drives me crazy. If I’m outside, I yell at him to stop. (Indoors, I bang on the window and make a face. Dogs know what that means, right?) Yelling at a barking dog rarely works, I realize, so I decide that I will do it louder. This barking is pointless and annoying! It has to stop! It’s a contest out there now. Rufus and I are both yelling at the top of our lungs. He knows he’s doing the right thing, because I have joined in. Suddenly I am chasing him, though. What could that mean? Why in heaven’s name would I try to drag him indoors during the most critical part of his workday?! His anxiety over those approaching kids is increasing dramatically. It’s quite difficult to ward them off with me chasing and distracting him. How about that broom she is waving? Great idea! Wait. Is she going to…? My thoughts are turning to a shock collar (sneak preview: that won’t diminish his anxiety) when my eyes come to rest on the garden hose. Raise your hand if you think this situation is headed in the right direction.

I should have controlled my reactions. I am, after all, supposed to be more reasonable than my dog. Jumping onto this barking behavior only made it worse: now, every time the kids approach, Rufus recalls me weaving crazily through the yard with a broom overhead, and his anxiety ratchets up a notch or two. Wasn’t I trying to get him to calm down?

Dr. M.S. Regan