GUEST BLOG: Thoughts on Daoism and Dog Training from Dave Trowbridge

In "the meadow"

“Rulers should always avoid giving commands…for commands, being direct and verbal, always bring to the subject’s mind the possibility of doing the opposite. But since rituals are non-verbal, they have no contraries. They can therefore be used to produce harmony of wills and actions without provoking recalcitrance; if a man finds himself playing his appointed part in li [ritual] and thus already — as it were de facto — in harmony with others, it no more occurs to him than it occurs to a dancer to move to a different rhythm than that being played by the orchestra.” 

Master Zhuang, 4^th century BCE Daoist philosopher
and proto-anarchist

That quotation was seminal in creating the anarcho-monarchical politics of the Panarchy, the interstellar polity that’s the setting of the space opera Exordium. The Panarchs and Kyriarchs all wielded theoretically unlimited power, but most of them died, or were killed, before they learn how to work the hyper-complex network of interlocking traditions, institutions, and governance that executes their will.

It’s also, I now find, a perfect encapsulation of the rather Daoist aspects of the positive dog training techniques that Deborah and I are using to rehabilitate Tajji, a process more like conversation than education, and certainly one in which learning flows both ways. Certainly, our work with Tajji is teaching me that much of dog training, if not all, is about the negotiation, establishment, and performance of rituals rather than the issuing of commands.

As Master Zhuang might have said, those who do not acknowledge the power of ritual will find themselves helpless against it, and it can be argued that this is a fundamental reason there are so many ill-trained dogs in the world: dogs that have established their rituals as the rule of life for a household.



Do it again!
Dogs, even more than toddlers, their intellectual “equals,” are creatures of ritual. It is a mistake to view a dog’s identical excitement at “walkies” day after day, for instance, as a failure of either intelligence or long-term memory. To the contrary: try changing some aspect of the ritual and watch what happens. I think that what dogs are doing in these moments can be thought of as celebrating the repetition of a mutual, socially-purposive pattern of behavior: a ritual. (Not all rituals are celebratory, of course. The “waiting for the scolding after poop appears on the floor” ritual is equally powerful, but not pleasant for the dog.)

Here, for instance, is Tajji moving through an important initial step in walkies: the refusal of the harness. She is offering a play bow so that we know she will eventually accept the harness, to which Deborah is responding in kind.

After this is the chase around the table, often with a feint at any cat foolish enough to be in the vicinity.

And then acceptance of the harness, signaled by getting on her dog bed.
 

We could have worked to extinguish this behavior; many people would do so reflexively, not considering that the dog has an internal life just as they do, if less complex. In some cases, of course, that would be the right course of action; say, in a busy family where time is more precious than it is for a couple of older writers in the woods.

In fact, initially, we did try and, in fact, we have developed a means of short-circuiting this ritual by inviting her into the mudroom, which is too narrow for her to continue keep-away. But Tajji’s response to a direct command was a kind of mopy, slow obedience, a very clear expression of her displeasure in our opposition to a ritual that was apparently an important part of her previous life as a service dog. Our just-so story about this is that a seeing-eye dog isn’t allowed to refuse the harness, and as she began to decompensate, this behavior likely emerged to both discharge some of the valence accumulating around working in harness, and to communicate her mounting distress. She does not respond in the same way when we simply attach a leash to her collar.

However, on a leash, Tajji is a relentless puller, as are so many dogs. To paraphrase Master Zhuang “Dog trainers should always avoid giving commands…for commands, being direct and physical, always bring to the dog’s mind the possibility of doing the opposite.” Pulling on the leash by the monkey translates to pulling on the leash by dog; it’s practically a reflex. It can also damage a dog’s neck, leading to neurological damage, breathing problems, or even hypothyroidism.

Don’t walk when you can dance
So how, for instance, does one establish the “walk next to me on a leash without pulling” ritual? Here’s an outline of the process we’re following, building on behaviors the dog already possesses innately or has learned as discussed in previous chapters, and rewarding them when the dog offers them.

Choose a proper head or chest harness, the latter preferably a front-clip model to make pulling almost impossible. Our trainer Sandy Pensinger likes Halti’s and similar head harnesses, but Deborah’s former life as a chiropractor and my imagination rule that out for us.

Work in the home, off leash, on the following behaviors, then under increasing distraction. They are to dog-training as genuflecting  and blessing oneself with holy water are to catholic Christians.

1. The most fundamental is “look,” which evokes a dog’s innate desire to check in with “pack members.” If the dog is looking at you, it can’t pull, and is disengaged to some extent from potentially arousing encounters or situations. Make the dog look at you after you put her food down before allowing her to eat. Make look a prerequisite of as many mini-rituals as you can. You want “look” to be a compelling muscle memory for the dog.
2. Couple this with “touch” to an outstretched hand, but not the one with the food. Remember that dogs don’t generalize: Tajji readily learned to touch a hand held to the left or right, but could not immediately translate that into touching a hand held over her head. With a well-developed “touch” command you can literally lead a dog around by the nose; Tajji is already learning to go between my legs using this technique.
3. An urgent recall. “Come” will do, but only if one is disciplined about its use. I find that using the Yiddish hier works better, reserving “come” for a more casual request, like “come along.” Work towards a solid recall with a long leash (I use up to 10 meters) if necessary, but not as a means to haul the dog in. Remember, no commands! Do that which consists of no action, and order will prevail.
4. “Heel,” meaning walk beside me and check in frequently. It doesn’t have to be a rigid positional obedience; check out a Schutzhund OB trial on YouTube sometime and watch the dance between handler and dog.
5. Perhaps most important, “go sniff.” This is a general release, and there’s no reason not to use it at times when the dog is already distracted by a scent. Remember that sniffing the ground is an important calming behavior; a sniffing dog is less easily aroused by a visual cue.
6. Now put it all together. You have look for getting your dog’s attention, touch to guide her through dance rather than compulsion, hier to interrupt trouble (if used quickly enough), heel to establish relaxed walking, and go sniff to let the dog be a dog.
7. Never, never stop training. You are as much a part of the ritual as the dog, and as much its servant. The trick is to build a mutually acceptable “religion” (in the sense of a binding relationship created by ritual and belief) for you and your dog.

Do this religiously, and you’ll dance through life with your dog, which is one of the most satisfying modes of being I know of