I’m sure their acceptance was increased by the fact that there were immediate benefits to this. By giving me the body space I needed, they saw a distinct change in the atmosphere during the times I was with them: I was pleased to see them. The dogs learned that when I wanted to spend time, it was quality time. Behaviourism had taught me that you should ignore undesirable and excessive behaviour but be sure to praise the positive, so I underlined this by making a quiet, extra fuss of them when they did come to me. The dogs were soon coming to me only when I asked them to, and it didn’t take time: it happened within a week.
This first tentative step had proved so effective, I knew I was on to something. But I quickly realised that one thing alone was not going to give them the message. I decided to move on next to moments of perceived danger, and the arrival of strangers to the pack specifically. Like other dogs, mine used to bark incessantly when someone came to the door. When I let them in, the visitor would instantly be surrounded by a circle of dogs, jumping up at them and making a terrible fuss. I would shout: ‘Stop it, be quiet.’ But by now I realised that far from placating them, I was exacerbating the situation. Again I thought of Kipling; I knew I had to keep my head, be calm and consistent.
This time I decided to tell people to ignore the dogs when they came through the door. Those dogs that kept bounding up, I took into another room. Of course some people thought I was crazy. To them, it was the most natural thing in the world to acknowledge a dog, particularly if it’s a beautiful dog. My friends and family had certainly been in the habit of making a fuss of Sasha, Khan, Sandy and Kim. But I was determined to give this a chance and insisted they do as I ask.
The early signs were enough to convince me to stick at it. Within a few days again, things began to calm down. Soon the dogs were just barking rather than running up and milling around visitors. Once more the dogs picked up on what was being asked of them pretty quickly. Of course I couldn’t quite believe it was so simple; I put some of it down to the fact that both Sandy and Khan were getting old. I was sure there was significance in the fact that the dog that was giving me most in terms of response was Sasha, the youngest one in the pack and a German shepherd to boot. I never thought: ‘I’m right here, there has to be reasons why this is working’ – I was questioning things all the way along. Despite all this, however, I can’t deny it was a fantastic feeling. They were transformed, they seemed happier, calmer dogs, and it was a joy to behold.
The next thing I wanted to tackle was going for a walk. Walking time then was, in all honesty, little short of chaos. Whenever we went out, the dogs would all run around me, pulling on the leads. The situation summed up the fatal flaw in traditional training in many ways. I think I had instilled a lot of good habits into them through obedience training, but if I am honest with myself they were either robotic when we went out or doing their own thing – it was either everything or nothing. I didn’t want that, and felt there had to be a way of achieving a kind of co-operation, a situation where I could get them to comply when I wanted and they could enjoy the freedom to run where they liked when they were able to do so. I knew the best form of control was self-control. But how to instil it?
Instead of putting them on a lead and letting them bounce around like maniacs, I thought I’d calm it right down again. As I was doing more and more now, I stopped and thought about the wolf pack analogy. I saw how the Alpha pair allowed the subordinates to run around for a while but that eventually all calmed down and they was able to lead the hunt in an orderly fashion. So the first time I gathered the dogs together for a walk, I did not try to stop them getting excited: quite the opposite. Again thinking about the principles of the wolf pack, I realised dogs have got to get wound up because, to them, this is the prelude to a hunt and they have to get their adrenaline pumping. What I was trying to do was not fight their instinct but go with it.
The difference this time, however, was that after putting the leads on the dogs, I did nothing, I just stood there, impassively waiting, calmly and silently before heading out of the door. Again the calming leadership I was showing bore fruit, and the dogs calmed right down. I then found that, on the walk, I had to keep showing them my leadership credentials. Previously, like so many other dog owners, I would be taken for a drag down the road by the dogs, an experience I never particularly enjoyed. However, I found that if, whenever the obligatory pulling started, I waited, the results were remarkable. The dogs quickly realised they were getting nowhere fast, and one by one their leads all slackened as they gave up trying and turned round to look at me. This was the first time they had done so, and it gave me the encouragement I needed to continue in this vein. It had been a battle of wills, and I had won them over.
I then started to wonder if the same approach would work when they were off the lead. In the past, my dogs would scatter to the four winds and then display ‘selective hearing’: they would come back to me perfectly well on some occasions, but if distracted by a rabbit or another dog, my futile attempts to call them back would echo across fields. On other occasions, I have seen dogs go back eventually, only to be smacked by their frustrated owner. I always thought that this was a confusing signal for the dog – surely it would make a dog wary of returning if it knew it was going to get clobbered? And if anybody has tried to catch their dog to get it under control, they know they can sometimes be led a merry dance by the dog, who waits for the owner to get close, then runs off again.
Once more, looking to the wolf pack gave me my answer to the selective hearing problem. Knowing that the Alpha wolf leads the pack on the hunt, I looked at the situation from the dog’s point of view. If that dog believed it was Alpha, then it would think it was leading the hunt. Therefore, the owner’s job, as subordinate, would not be to call the dog back, but to follow as a pack member. Encouraged by the positive response I had got working on the leads, I decided to show my dogs that I led the hunt off the lead as well.
I was not keen to test out this theory in an open field, but luckily I had enough room in my garden to make a start. Calling the dogs to heel and rewarding them for doing so immediately took away the confusion that arises when owners punish their dogs for coming to them late. Again the dogs were quick to learn, all except Kim, the beagle. On one occasion, she was still not responding, preferring to nose around the garden. Frustrated, I turned away and headed for the back door, determined to leave her out there. As I reached the door and looked back, I saw Kim running flat out to get indoors. Inspiration struck. From then on, if Kim did not come when I asked, I turned round and walked back to the house, whereupon she would follow me. Dogs are, by nature, pack animals, and given the choice of going alone or returning to the pack, they choose the pack every time.
It was a huge leap forward. It was as if I held the dogs on invisible leads attached to them. The difference was astounding: within a week or so again, they were still enjoying their freedom, but now they were doing so in a way that meant they never strayed very far from me. And when I wanted the pack to re-form to return home, they accepted the minimal instruction I gave to them instantly. I was, I must admit, over the moon.
I wouldn’t want to create the impression that all this came easily, that everything fell into place instantly: it didn’t, I can assure you. As I tried to develop my ideas some things simply didn’t work. In particular I found that any attempt to combine my new practices with the old, obedience training stuff did more harm than good. But as I thought about incorporating things like discs, clickers and head braces I realised ‘this is simply confusing’. And if I was mixed up, what on earth would the dogs’ response be?
I realise now that I was being human, I was overcomplicating things. I kept thinking: ‘There has to be more to it than this, it can’t be this simple,’ and kept looking for other things. Slowly, however, it was dawning on me that in some ways it really was this simple. If I just concentrated on the dogs’ way rather than the human way, I was going to be far more successful; it was obvious really, when do you ever see one dog using collars or leads or clickers on another dog? From then on, I determined that I was going to try do this without resorting to any artificial man-made means.
By now I had been applying