Hi, my name is Dan.
I train dogs and cats and the people they depend on.  But you already knew that...

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     Long before I was an animal behavior professional, I was a new dog owner just about to graduate from high school.  I got Oscar on the spur of the moment from a recent ex-girlfriend.  I considered it a good trade.  But Oscar was already over two years old and he was not what you would call a well-behaved canine companion.  He pooped in the house.  He barked constantly with a depth and volume that rattled the walls.  He scared the bejeezus out of visitors (did I mention Oscar is an 80-pound German Shepherd-Chow Chow mix?) and wouldn't let anyone but family into the house.  He escaped from the yard frequently and roamed the neighborhood much to the horror of our neighbors before finally coming home when he felt like being fed.  He wouldn't let anyone brush him and his thick coat became matted.  He had crazy moods that we couldn't help but give names to.  Shark mode and zoomy mode were particularly notorious. 

     Oscar very quickly decided that his mission in life was to guard things.  He guarded his food and any rawhides I gave him.  He guarded the couch.  He guarded the entrance to the basement and wouldn't let family members enter or exit.  He HATED bicycles and made sure that none came near the house.  Oscar learned that being growly and scary were good ways to control people and make them stop doing things he didn't like.  For instance, he wouldn't walk on leash.  He often slipped out of his collar only to then lie on his back in the middle of the road and bare his teeth if I tried to pick him up or drag him to safety.  He had to be muzzled at the vet. 

     Now if I am making Oscar sound like an awful dog it's because at the time, even though I loved him dearly, I considered him to be an out-of-control and unmanageable dog.  Like a lot of young men faced with a feisty fido, I responded to Oscar with a physical approach.  I pushed him down.  I pinned him on his back. I imitated things I saw Cesar Milan do on TV.  Once I tried staring at Oscar and barking for 15 minutes straight.

     Somehow our relationship survived. Oscar and I developed a mutual respect, but no one else in the family could handle him.  They loved him and feared him.  They took him to obedience classes without me in the hope that he would respect them the way he did me.  This accomplished little.  The trainer was using old methods based on jerking the collar and physically placing dogs into position.  Oscar tolerated this to some extent because he liked being the center of attention, but he obeyed commands only when he felt like it and then only if he saw treats.  Being choked, pushed, and pulled on made Oscar agitated and the more stressed he got the less he obeyed commands.  It was a vicious cycle and we gave up quickly on obedience training.

     We consulted Oscar's veterinarian, who called him a Dominant-Aggressive dog and recommended we keep him on a leash and head halter at all times.  She suggested a muzzle for continuous wear at home.  She made other recommendations but it all sounded so overwhelming and there was no follow-up or effort made to guide us through the recommended steps.  I was sent home with a photocopied page from some behavior textbook and a complicated-looking training device I didn't know how to use.  Regardless, I didn't have the heart to treat Oscar like Kujo.  I knew intuitively that, despite all his sound and fury, Oscar was a nervous dog and that he didn't want to be mean or controlling. 

     I felt that the only people in a position to help couldn't or wouldn't see Oscar the way I saw him.  Oscar was afraid of things that were unfamiliar to him and I figured this could be underlying all his problems.  But I didn't know how to help him.  I couldn't take him anywhere.  He was afraid of other dogs and terrified of the pet store.  Each time we tried visiting the local pet shop, Oscar's eyes would go white, he would foam at the mouth, then urinate on everything, and - if I didn't remove him quickly - he'd have diarrhea all over the floor.  He was also quite frightened by thunder storms and would calm down only if I wrapped my bathrobe around him so he could feel hidden and secure.  Oscar had a particularly hard time when I was away from home.

     I basically just kept Oscar away from the world, loved him with all my heart and hoped for the best.

     One day the refrigerator needed some work.  I locked Oscar in another room so he wouldn't eat the repairman. This strategy had worked in the past but on this particular day, Oscar got out somehow.  He spotted the repairman right away and went into a fit of barking.  As Oscar charged right at the poor guy, I began to think about where I would hide the body.  But then something astonishing happened.  The repairman casually turned slightly away from Oscar, raised his hand gently, and before I knew it Oscar was sitting and wagging his tail!  The man hadn't said a word or laid a hand on my dog. 

     And he didn't have treats.
    
     "I used to train dogs," said the man as he smiled and petted Oscar on the head.  It was then I knew I had been the problem all along.  After a few more twists, turns, and misadventures, I eventually went on to learn how to be a dog trainer and Oscar is still with me to this day, fooling everyone into thinking he's always been a well-behaved dog... well, usually (He did eat a tube of Chapstick recently).   He's an old man now, and I let him get away with a lot.  I know he won't be around forever.  But I am convinced that he wouldn't still be here today if I hadn't changed my ways and learned to use positive, gentle training techniques, grounded in science and basic decency.

Oscar passed in Spring of 2014.  He went peacefully, surrounded by friends and family at Stack Veterinary Hospital.  He will be missed.

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