PetsCareMart

Cookies! Praise! Belly Rubs! Using positive reinforcement feels so easy, and is such a great way to have a healthy and happy relationship with your dog. The research is overwhelming that training with R+ builds trust, reduces stress, and is effective at teaching new and desired behaviors.

And. Yet. There are plenty of pitfalls to using R+ successfully, which was my topic at a speech I recently gave to the Madison Rotary Club. I’ll link to the speech at the end, but here’s a summary of the talk’s primary points:

NOPE! NOT REINFORCEMENT! Yesterday I saw someone lean down and praise a dog for a good performance, stroking the dog’s head while speaking enthusiastically. The dog responded by yawning, turning away and sniffing the ground. Whoops. In spite of a loving owner, the dog’s actions made it clear that the “reinforcement” was aversive. In other words, the dog accidently got punished for doing well. Ouch. And yet, so common, and so easy. I almost did it myself yesterday—a dog I didn’t know came over and put his paws up on my chair. I stroked his head and cooed a bit, which caused the dog to immediately get down and go sniff. Okay, lesson learned. Next time he came over to me, I restrained myself, and sat down on the ground beside him. Totally different response—he snuggled up for a moment, but then went back to his human—his “secure attachment base,” before coming back over. Sweet, sweet dog, loves people, but a bit anxious about strangers.

I throw out that example because it’s not always obvious what a dog finds reinforcing. Even giving chicken to a dog nervous about strangers might not be the R+ you think it is, if the dog snatches the food and goes all whale eye on you. This all leads back to the mantra of every behaviorist and great trainer I know—Job One for all of us? Learn to read dogs like a native speaker.

ACCIDENTAL R+ There’s no better example of this than raising your voice to get a dog to stop barking. BARK BARK! Be quiet! BARK BARK! BE QUIET! BARK BARK BARK BARK! CHESTER SHUT THE F UP!!!

Or, translated: HEY HEY! Hey Hey! HEY HEY! HEY HEY! HEY HEY HEY HEY! HEY HEY HEY HEY! Barking is a social event in domestic dogs, and, too often, all we do it bark back. Whoops, again.

NO STAMINA There’s another, and very common way we can all get into trouble with accidental reinforcement, and it’s about staying the course. We’re cuddled on the couch, petting our dogs and decide that twenty minutes of dedicated belly rubbing are enough. (I’m talking to you, Maggie.) We pull our hands away, and our dogs paw at us for more. We ignore it. More pawing. More ignoring. And then–it’s not like you don’t know what’s coming here—we reach out our hands and begin petting again. (I’m talking to you, Trisha.)

Congratulations. We have just taught our dogs that stamina is the name of the game. Maggie has learned that I do finally, indeed, mean I’m done when I stop petting and say “enough,” although she’s smart enough to keep trying on occasion. (Okay, fine, damn it, she stops when I stop petting, say “enough,” and pet her head twice.)

This hardly becomes a problem when cuddling on the couch, but it can be if you REALLY don’t want your dog to beg at the table, or bark to get out of the crate. It’s simple to handle, because it’s all on us, and we have total control of our own behavior, right? Uh, right?

WHAT IS THE REINFORCEMENT? Of course, we usually DO know that. It is the chicken, or the belly rub, or the clicker followed by a primary reinforcement. But wait. What about the work of neurobiologist Jaak Panskeep, who found that dopamine, the neurotransmitter associated with pleasure (and which plays a huge role in addictions, tragically), is released at highest levels not when the R+ is given, but when it is anticipated. Whoa! Like when we get the leash out for a walk, rather than the walk? Like when you’re anticipating walking into a concert, but it hasn’t started yet? (A dear friend of mine has always wanted to write a book on how anticipating a vacation is often more fun than taking them!)

Hmmm. Could we use that? Get out the leash as a reinforcer every once in a while? Something to think about, yes?

THE VALUE OF THE PREMACK PRINCIPLE  This isn’t a pitfall by any means, but not knowing it can be. The Premack Principle is simple: more probable behaviors will reinforce less probable behaviors. In other words, eat your vegetables, and then you can have desert. Here’s how I used it at the farm: If I let Skip out of the house, he’ll run to the barn, because that’s often where the sheep are, and he lives to work sheep. It’s his most probable behavior in that context. It could have been a problem when I first got him, because he’d bolt out of the house so fast he’d run me over. It only took two days to teach him to “Wait” when I opened the door, because the reinforcement was an “Okay,” and a dash to the barn. The Wait was totally worth it because it led to what he REALLY wanted. (Which was SO NOT a treat.) Later I used it to teach him to walk beside me. (I won’t dignify it by saying “heel,” it’s pretty sloppy.)

So often we are afraid of our dog’s “misbehaviors,” but they can be our best friends if we know how to use them safely.

Please join in with your own experiences of the above pitfalls, and add in others I’ve neglected to mention. I can’t wait to read your comments.

Here’s the full talk at Rotary Club:

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Ah, well. In the last post I used the phrase “put the oxygen mask on first” as a metaphor for taking care of myself while grieving my sister. Several people, here and on Facebook and Instagram, responding—so kindly—by saying they hadn’t known I was ill and to take care of myself. No, no! I responded, I just meant it as a metaphor.

That is how I meant it. But. If I don’t fess up now and explain that I actually am ill, I’ll feel like I’m lying to you. We all have our personal values, and being authentic is one of mine. So, briefly, since the end of December I’ve been in a lot of pain, have been clinically exhausted, and been weak and dizzy. Really, really dizzy. The pain is from blacking out, falling hard, and hurting my back, which pissed off a lot of nerves. The exhaustion is most probably from Epstein Barr Virus/Chronic Fatigue, and the weak/dizzy is most probably from something called POTS, or Postural Orthostatic Tacchycaria Syndrome. Lots of tests done, more to do. I spend much of my days either in PT, at a doc’s office, or flattened on the couch like some Victorian dowager.

I will be alright. It will get figured out. I am surrounded by a devoted husband, dear friends, tons of doctors and holistic practioners. Some things don’t help, others do. Some days are better than others. I am better than I was in January and February. I am probably going to have to make some permanent changes in my life, a tad of a challenge for a woman who lives on a hilly farm, has sheep and working dogs, and uh, has ADHD besides.  I’m not going to go into any more details, because that’s just not what this village is about. This is not the place to talk about disease, medicine, and treatments. It IS the place for me to honor so many others, including those who will read this post, who are worse off than I am. It IS the place to savor how important our dogs and our friends are.

Needless to say, I am doing less. But I still love doing this–some of you I include in the “dear friends” category mentioned above–and I will not give it up.  You’ll note fewer links though, and fewer photos. At least, for now. I still can work on the novel, albeit not as much. I can still work the dogs, although not as much. (I will confess that Skip lying by the door, waiting to work sheep on the days that I can’t, still breaks my heart.) I cook much less, even while trying to eat extra healthy. I cannot have my Friday night one or two Cosmos, which, if you want to feel sorry for me, feel sorry about that. Damn.

There’s always good news. We got to a nearby sheepdog trial this last weekend. Only two hours away, a much smaller course (it was a AHBA trial). Very low key, and some good friends to talk to. After being home so much it was like when the extreme Covid isolation was dropped. Wheee! Skip was brilliant his first run, really fantastic, and just AWFUL his second. That seems to be his pattern, Mr. Unpredictable, and I have no idea why. Maybe someday I’ll figure it out. But I am so happy we went, what a treat.

Here are some nice shots Jim got when Skip was at his best:

In the shot above, Skip is in good contact with the sheep, keeping steady pressure on but not scaring them. Someone said, “he is so kind to his sheep,” a lovely thing to hear. Too kind s0metimes, but this time, just right. Our job was to get the sheep straight through the middle of the panels. Nailed it.

Neither Skip or I can take any credit for this pen. The sheep are “school” sheep, used to train dogs, and are happy to go into the pen.

It was warm and beautiful that day. It had been in the 80’s the last few days, not sure it was that hot Saturday, but it was warm and toasty. I took off my overshirt and was down to short sleeves in the afternoon.

And then.

I have over 400 daffodils, probably closer to 500. They all bloomed within a few days because of the atypical heat and sun. This is what they all look like this morning, at least, the ones you can see. Don’t you love the yellow reflected onto the snow? It is still snowing now. Daffs are hardy things, many of them will bounce back, but many won’t.

Some pretty obvious metaphors here, no need for me to even point them out. May your week be full of tiny pleasures, where ever you can find them.