Welcome back! After our introduction post, I thought I’d share how Moose came to me and a short history of his reactive behavior.
I first learned about Moose in the spring of 2015. My family had previously adopted a dog from a rescue in Indiana, and when Moose (then named Silas) came into their care, they contacted us thinking we’d be a perfect fit for him. Unfortunately, my parents already had two dogs and I wasn’t quite finished with college up in Green Bay yet, so despite how in love with him I was from pictures alone, I had to turn them down.
After I graduated in May, I moved to Madison, WI. Upon learning that I had moved out, the rescue contacted me again because this dog was still available. Several adoption inquiries hadn’t worked out for him and, most recently, one had fallen through when he became very aggressive towards the family’s dog while on a leash during a home visit. This was an immediate “no” for the family, so back to the rescue he went.
They asked me if this was something I was really willing to take on, because he had several other applications put in for him that they would move on to if his behavioral issues were going to be a deal breaker for me. I assured them that I was not worried about tackling his leash reactivity, and to be honest, I really wasn’t. I’d worked with dogs for a long time, both professionally and as an owner, and I wanted him so badly that there wasn’t much of anything that I wasn’t willing to help him work on.
After our conversation, my contact at the rescue told me “I think he’s been waiting for you!,” and I knew I had to bring him home. I had sworn up and down that I would wait until October or November to adopt a dog, but after moving to Madison on August 1st, I signed the paperwork for Moose on August 5th and drove down to Indiana to pick him up on the 22nd.
My first experience with Moose’s leash reactivity was the night I brought him back to my apartment in Madison. We’d spent our first few days at my parents’ house in southeastern Wisconsin where he played wonderfully at the dog park, as the rescue told me he would - off leash, he LOVES to play with other dogs! Apartment life, though, meant he had to be on a leash any time we were outside, and that’s where his issues arose.
We’d barely gotten out of my Jeep when he spotted another dog out for a late night potty break, and out of nowhere, the intense tantrum that would become familiar began - complete with thrashing, leash biting, and the first time I’d heard his booming bark. At 10 pm, nonetheless! He sure made an impression at the apartment complex.
Indoors, he was nearly the perfect dog. He slept in my bed from day one and was bonded to me immediately, needing to be by my side at every moment (I’m still not allowed to pee alone, nearly three years later). I also quickly learned that he was the most food motivated dog in the world, which made it easy to teach him tricks and commands indoors. Outdoor training was a different story.
I live in one of the few dog-friendly apartment complexes in the area, which means just about everyone with a dog in town lives here. Every potty break was like a spy mission - I had to creep out the door first to make sure nobody else was letting their dog out and our walks could only take place late at night when the chances of running into anyone else were slim. I still do this sometimes - it’s never a bad time for a peaceful evening walk.
For the first year, every outdoor on-leash adventure was like walking on eggshells. I was a constant ball of anxiety and feared running into anyone, human or canine. Moose would never hurt a person, but as a “frustrated greeter” he still barked and lunged because he simply didn’t know how else to say “Hey, look at me, look how cute I am, why aren’t you petting me?!” He’s a big boy with an even bigger bark, so to strangers, I completely understand why this might feel like a dog wanting to attack. (Maybe I should’ve made business cards to throw at them from five feet away stating that “I promise he’s a good boy, he just has a lot of feelings”?)
Our sidewalks here are pretty narrow, so running into another dog on a walk was my waking nightmare. At the end of the day, it often resulted in me pulling him off as far into the grass as we could go, then yelling “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” at the other owner as they passed with their well-behaved dog while my 70-pound mutt tried to pull me over. I usually went home and cried after those walks.
I met with two trainers before I found a third that I loved. The first was nice but I didn’t feel a real connection to her, and her training felt a bit impersonal. The second wanted to charge me something like $1400 to use a shock collar on him, so we never went back. It wasn’t until I met the third trainer in the summer of 2016 that I finally began to feel like there was hope for Moose. He came to my apartment and taught me the force-free, positive-reinforcement based techniques that I could use to shape Moose’s behavior into more desirable actions. I’ll be sharing some of those with you here on this blog in later posts. That trainer is why I urge everyone struggling with a reactive dog to find a professional that works for you. No dog is going to be completely changed overnight (I’m avoiding using the word “fixed” here - your dogs aren’t broken!), but I think that if meeting with a trainer can bring you even a little bit of hope, then it’s totally worth it.
Today, Moose attends doggy daycare every Monday where he plays with his canine friends all day long. He has a best cat friend named Mochi (my sister’s Maine coon who tolerates his antics) and he has two doggy cousins named Fergus and Jameson that he gets to visit and wrestle with all the time. I’m lucky enough to have a job that allows him to come to the office with me on occasion so that he gets some practice in politely receiving attention from my coworkers. Just this last week, he walked up State Street and visited the Wisconsin State Capitol Building for the first time and was polite to every single person he met. He even went to the outdoor mall and into a LUSH store! (His mother may or may not have a crippling bath bomb addiction.)
We still struggle when we run into other dogs (and sometimes even people), but as Moose’s advocate, it’s my job to avoid putting him in those situations and it takes a lot of quick thinking to get him out of them. The whole reason for this blog is to share the things I’ve done to help him get to this point and to keep sharing what we’re working on right now. Moose may never be a dog that can go to Madison’s many dog-friendly breweries or the Memorial Union Terrace - and that’s okay. We’re taking it one day at a time and never push him beyond what he’s comfortable with.
The best thing you can do for your dog, even if they aren’t severely reactive, is to identify their triggers and signs of stress. As soon as either one makes an appearance, you work to refocus the dog on you - and if that doesn’t work, you leave the situation as quickly as possible. It can (and very likely will be) a long and frustrating process, but all training needs to be a positive experience for your dog. They get frustrated too, and constant exposure to stressful situations never helps anyone. Even the smallest steps can lead to victories for both of you.
I love my dog more than I’m ever going to love anything or anyone, reactivity and all, but there were definitely times when I didn’t feel that way. The first step in helping your reactive dog is to change the way you think about them. In my first post, I mentioned that I learned to stop treating Moose like a “broken” dog. He’s not broken at all - he’s just like any human that needs a little extra help learning how to be social and to control his impulses. Helping your reactive dog is all about setting them up for success and teaching them to make the correct behavioral decisions in whatever way works best for them.
I’m sure I’ll say this once every blog post, but again - every dog is different. I have many friends that have dogs that are severely fearful in addition to being reactive, so I count my blessings that so far, the only thing Moose seems to be afraid of is the dishwasher. (He’s also not a fan of the spray bottle that I use to spritz my cockatiel, because I have the only Newfoundland in the world that doesn’t like water.) His reactivity is much more manageable these days and while we definitely still have our rough times, he’s miles and miles ahead of where he was when he first came to me and he’s getting better every minute.
Talk soon, Kenzie & Moose