You're Doing Your Best
A detailed ramble about the last ten years with a reactive dog
All you can do is your best with the information you have and the resources that are available to you. When I adopted Star the description at the shelter said “must go to a home with another dog” which I took to mean dog friendly. And while Star and Titan quickly became best friends, it was apparent early on that Star did not share that affection with all dogs she met. The first time I walked her and she started barking and lunging at a dog walking across the street, I wondered what the heck was going on. I had never heard the term ‘reactive’ nor met a dog that acted like this.
I enrolled Star in six weeks of private lessons at the local pet store. I would take her after my own college courses were done for the day, and we would walk up and down the aisles and wait for dogs to show up so we could practice turning the other direction and trying to distract Star with treats. After those six weeks passed, we spent another six weeks enrolled in a group lesson, where our personal goal was to make it inside the classroom door. While the other dogs learned to sit and lie down and stay, we paced back and forth outside until we were ready to try entering, and when we did, Star would growl or bark and we would turn around and go back outside. Most days we would catch the last two or three minutes of class, when Star finally settled down enough to come in.
Shortly after, we moved for the summer. I was determined to control Star’s wild leash antics so I searched for another trainer. Because we were in a little mountain community my only option was a private trainer who came to your house for sessions. I was making $9 an hour at the time and the trainer cost me $150 an hour. I was a poor 21 year old climbing bum, but I wanted to invest in our future, which would include lots of outdoor time where dogs would be present. When the trainer first came over, Titan jumped on her because he was very excited. She flipped out and couldn’t believe he would do such a thing and was surprised he was not the dog we were training. I was immediately very uncomfortable and wanted to hide in a corner. In our first session, we didn’t see any other dogs, so we basically went for a walk and I clicked a clicker and gave Star treats, which she mostly didn’t want. In the second session (which I was barely brave enough to schedule because I was so intimidated by the woman) the trainer brought her own dog and we walked back and forth past it until Star stopped reacting and then we were deemed “done.”
A few years later we tried another trainer in another small mountain town, because as it turned out we weren’t done, we were still struggling. We showed up and he put an ecollar on Star and we had an hour-long training session. By the end, we could walk past another dog and were again concluded to be “done.” This time at least, it was introduced to me that I should be asking Star to DO things, not just NOT DO things. So I asked her to heel or sit instead of not bark and lunge. After the class I bought my own ecollar but the effectiveness soon wore off because how could a dog or a handler possibly learn the nuances of such a tool in a one hour session? The collar then went unused to the bottom of the dog things bin.
This whole time I was still thinking that Star just didn’t like other female dogs, or maybe just small dogs, or maybe dogs who looked at her funny. I thought she could be ok meeting dogs off leash so I tried a muzzle and let her meet dogs off leash. Turned out she still didn’t really want to meet them.
Eventually we had transitioned to full time on the road life, which did allow us to visit some remote places where we didn’t have to see other dogs. During this trip, someone at Ruffwear reached out to see if I wanted to share some stories of our travels. We set up a phone call. I was so nervous before the call because I knew I had to tell him that Star was a bit... mean? I hadn’t called her mean before. To my utter shock he didn’t say “run away and never come back and don’t you dare let us see your mean dog wearing our gear” but he sent me a link to a blog post on their site about a dog who didn’t like people and how their owner had dealt with that.
This honestly changed my whole perspective. I don’t know why, but for years I had been trying to make excuses for Star and not admit that we had a real issue. But this somehow opened me up to admitting “my dog is not friendly.” I had never wanted to say this before! Because it wasn’t true! My dog IS friendly! She’s lovely and sweet and fun. Just not always. For the safety of being out in public I realized I had to say “my dog is not friendly” so that dogs wouldn’t approach us on trail, so people wouldn’t allow their dog to come running at us (ok as all reactive dog owners know this still happens almost every time you go out no matter how loudly you shout that your dog isn’t friendly).
Because of this freedom to admit that my dog wasn’t perfect, I wrote a piece about being an active outdoors-person with a reactive dog. The response was incredible. So many people reached out to me and shared their similar stories and said how nice it felt to know they weren’t alone. The feeling was mutual. I had expected that people would said I was a bad dog owner, because that’s how I felt sometimes. I didn’t know that anyone else was going through what I was going through with my dog. And the solidarity I felt through sharing our story was really comforting.
Eventually our training strategy just became avoidance. We were traveling to really remote places where we could hike happily without seeing another soul, we stopped climbing because there were so many dogs at the crags and boulders, and we generally went into hiding (where we remain today). After our last season in Alaska, we bought two aces of land in the woods of Washington, which we dubbed StarBar Ranch. Here at least, we could have a safe refuge for Star where she could run around, and lounge in the sun, and be free. We still hike, bike, and adventure all over the West, and use the avoidance strategies we have developed to limit the chances we have of running into others. When we do meet other dogs, we have come up with a process that works for Star and within 10 minutes she’s either decided to ignore the dog for the rest of her life or become friends with it.
We’ve done our best for her. I tried training, I came up with our own strategy, and we’ve now made it through ten years together. Over the last decade I’d like to think I’ve become wiser. I now realize all the tools and resources available to dog owners, which is why early on in our relationship with Colt we made a major investment in our future and our relationship by sending him to a professional trainer for a three week board and train. As much as I would like to think of myself as someone who can train a dog, I have learned that I don’t quite have the commitment and the consistency to do it on my own. I had done the very, very best I could for Star with the knowledge and resources I had. I really did. But now I have more knowledge and more resources, and if I were to do it again, I may have continued searching for trainers until we found the right one. I may not have altered our entire lifestyle to avoid seeing other dogs (but… maybe I would have because I’m not very social myself!). But the point is, I did, and continue to do, my best for her because I love her so tremendously.
When we were deciding to how to proceed with Colt’s training, I expressed some disappointment to my husband that he hadn’t stepped up more to take an active role in Colt’s training. But that was really a way of shifting the responsibility off of myself, because I hadn’t either put in the time either. He retorted back, “well why didn’t you train Star?” I was really hurt. Because I had. I had tried for almost a decade. And if you saw her barking at another dog, maybe you wouldn’t see that. Because she still looks out of control sometimes. But if you saw how much more quickly she calmed down, how she was able to go into a sit, how much more she looked to me for direction, you might be proud. Because I am.
For today I want you to know that I see you over there. Doing your best for your dog. Trying your hardest. Using the resources you have. I see and recognize that professional training is expensive (but worth it for the right trainer!) and not everyone can afford it, and you are persisting on your own. Doing research, trying different tactics. Taking care of your dog and whatever issues they bring to the table. You are doing your best. That’s all anyone can ask. And your dog loves you for that.
