by Jody Rosengarten of The Bark Stops Here
Want to know the secret of my success? My voice. Not that it's especially pretty. And my New Jersey roots still show. It's the way I use my voice. The intonation and timing.
Chit chat with Pavlov in a calm, quiet voice. Sing-songy's fine. Issue commands (actually, I prefer "requests") by first saying "Pavlov" then a pithy "Sit." Just use your natural voice, no need to yell. Pavlov can hear a potato chip fall at 250 yards. Praise should sound happy, animated and higher pitched. It's important to know just how enthusiastic to be short of making him manic. Corrections are monosyllabic and bark-like. "No!" will do. Lengthy diatribes are wasted on Pavlov.
What all successful dog trainers - and comedians - have in common is great timing. Dogs are immediate, "here and now" beings. For Pavlov to understand what pleases or displeases you, acknowledge the targeted behavior within a few seconds of its occurrence. To respond too early or too late is to reinforce what's going on at that moment.
Yesterday, while working with a brilliant Australian shepherd and a (not-too-bright) American woman, the following example of what not to do happened. We stepped outside so the puppy could piddle. Which she did. Then Matilda (not the dog's real name) ran over to her Ma and jumped all over her. So what did Ma do? Praised her. That's right, praised her. Of course, Ma meant to acknowledge the tinkle but waited too long, so instead rewarded jumping.
This can also work in reverse. Let's say Ma was still scolding Matilda for jumping while the puppy squatted to pee. See what I mean? It's like reacting to your kindergartener's stellar report card with anger over yesterday's graffiti.
Mother dogs have taught me a ton. Lacking synonyms -and guilt -they get it right the first time by being succinct, direct and unambivalent. And their timing is to-die-for. This may explain why there is so little substance abuse amongst the nation's canids.
