Exercise, discipline, affection. In that order.
Cesar Millan
Last Saturday night Joe and I went to the Midland Center for the Arts to see and hear Cesar Millan talk about his life with dogs. Cesar, the world-famous Dog Whisperer, is incredibly wise about how to approach, understand and train them- and rehabilitate their owners.
“There is no such thing as a problem breed. However, there is no shortage of problem owners. With a dog, people are not disciplined. They think that by spoiling a dog it will love them more. But the dog misbehaves more because people [involved with them] give affection at the wrong time.”
“Dogs in America get more affection than most women in third world countries.”
-But not exercise, or discipline, which should always happen before affection is offered.
Here was the auditorium scene that greeted us:
On a large, deep stage with muted lighting sat a sofa, an end table and a small rug with a coffee table on it, all set well back from the stage’s edge.
It was a typical living room.
Oh- and there were three huge screens set in a high triangle, so that folks up in the highest balcony- like us- wouldn’t miss a thing.
Cesar popped onto the stage, his famous grin lighting up the big (sold out) auditorium. He was dressed casually in jeans and long-sleeved gray tee shirt- simple attire designed to focus our attention on what he came to teach, rather than on him.
Right off the bat he commented that humans are the hardest to rehabilitate. They can be stubborn, or blind to why their pet’s objectionable behavior occurs. It’s humbling- and embarrassing- for owners to realize- and accept- that they are the problem.
In his TV series (lasting nine years) desperate clients came to him highly motivated to understand and change their enabling behavior. Viewers watched the liberating changes with deep interest, and not a little chagrin.
First, Cesar would listen to their complaint, and while they talked he’d size them up. And their dog, too. The challenge? To coax the folks to see themselves as their dog did.
As submissive.
A Bad Thing.
Doesn’t matter if their beastie is gigantic or teeny. His message was/is always the same.
Dogs require a Pack Leader, to be balanced.
No pack leader around? Then the human will find him/herself with a willful, disobedient, confused, irritating, obnoxious, dominant dog. That final descriptive adjective is another Bad Thing. Dominant (read ‘alpha’) dogs have free rein to do whatever they please to their submissive humans- for up to fifteen years! Exasperated, frustrated, baffled owners frequently dump the dog, or have it euthanized, or give it away ruined. Then they’ll buy another, ‘better’ dog and repeat the same submissive behavior, expecting a different result.
Or, resigned to their situation, they’ll submit to their out-of-control dog until it finally dies. How awful for both parties.
I saw a lot of bobbing heads out there.
Cesar asked us to move into our dog’s moment. “Dogs learn mostly with their noses. ‘I’ll believe it if I see it’ for dogs translates to ‘I’ll believe it if I smell it.’ So don’t bother yelling at them: it’s the energy and scent of calm confidence they pay attention to, not your words.”
Know how dogs sort out the world.
Now came part 2- demonstrations.
A local humane society handler brought out a big, handsome, shorthaired dog obsessed with balls. He’d been returned to the humane society over and over by frustrated families because of this infuriating obsession. The staff was despairing. Charley-dog had an impossible-to-cure problem. How could they ever get him successfully adopted?
After Cesar pulled these few scraps of information from the handler he asked her to bring out the ball she’d been hiding behind her back. “Please set it down some distance away.” She did.
It was a lovely big red one. Charley came alive with a fearsome, laser intensity.
Ball was All.
Cesar picked it up, ‘owning’ it. Charley, released by the handler at his direction, rushed toward Cesar, ignoring everything else.
BallBallBall!
Cesar slipped on his simple collar/leash (one looped line) and continued to hold the ball while the dog visually devoured it.
Then, he set it down in a spot he chose.
When the animal went for it he made a noise: “Sssst!!”
Startled, Charley’s focus broke. He looked up at Cesar for an instant before shifting his laser-gaze back to the ball again. At that exact instant the sound came again. “Ssst!”
Translation: That. Ball. Is. Mine.
This time the dog stared at him, uncertain. Cesar moved the slim collar/leash high up on his neck to (to achieve excellent control with minimal effort) and led him away about ten paces. Charley went willingly, but kept glancing back at his beloved ball. He asked the dog to sit while pulling the lead straight up as his left foot tapped Charley’s hind end.
Plop. He sat immediately and stared up at Cesar, totally attentive to this interesting human.
Charley-dog instinctively knew he faced a Pack Leader. He happily absorbed Cesar’s calm, assertive energy and quiet confidence. He relinquished ball-thoughts without fuss.
Poof. Gone.
No problem, Boss. You own that ball.
Cesar walked him toward his property, and a millisecond after Charley glanced at the ball Cesar tapped his hindquarters gently with his left foot and made that noise. A reminder.
“Ssst!”
Charley snapped to attention and looked up at Cesar intently. Ohh, right! That’s your ball, Boss.
Redirection- and a new focus- Cesar- at precisely the right moment, was key. We watched the animal mentally switch to obedient, submissive respect. I could almost hear a Click.
Again, Cesar led him toward the ball. They padded around it and past it. Charley, watching Cesar for cues while heeling, ignored it. Why?
It wasn’t his.
Satisfied, Cesar freed him. He wandered around to sniff the furniture and explore the whole stage, nose working busily. But he completely, permanently ignored the big red ball that sat before us.
The handler and audience were gob-smacked.
Next:
Punkin, weighing about 35 pounds, had a food obsession. The owner, a pleasant older lady, was going nuts. All her dog thought about was FOOD. Countertop food. Table food. Her grandaughter’s food. She always found ways to snatch it. Her owner couldn’t shame/scold/scream her out of her bad behavior. She felt helpless. Arghhhh!
Cesar attached his slim collar/lead high up behind her dog’s ears, and got her full attention by offering a delicious chicken morsel from one of three chicken-filled, cereal-sized bowls an attendant had quietly placed on the end table.
Punkin scarfed the gift down. (Cesar had demonstrated, by doing this, that he ‘owned’ the food.)
He asked the owner to keep her (leashed) dog from following him while he walked away to set his three meaty bowls of chicken bits on the stage floor close to us, leaving perhaps five feet between each. Then he led the eager, wide-eyed, straining Punkin toward them. Ohboyohboyohboy....Her nose worked frantically. As she lurched toward the bowls he made ‘the sound’ and touched her flank with his sneaker, which came up behind his other leg.
“Ssst!”
Translation: ‘No. Mine.’
No exclamation point necessary. It was a simple fact.
Startled, she looked up at Cesar. He re-adjusted the slim collar/leash to the top of her neck again and maneuvered her into the ‘heel’ position. (Remember, he’d never seen this dog before.) Each time she microscopically tilted her body or eyes toward the food he got her attention with ‘that sound’ while keeping the collar situated high and straight, but not taut. One minute later they began deliberately walking past the bowls. Around the bowls. Between the bowls. Back and forth. In and out. Round and round.
She never looked at them.
Your food. Understood, Boss.
Cesar removed the lead right there by the bowls. Punkin wandered off to entertain herself while he chatted with us. She went deeper into the set to sniff the couch, end table and little rug. But when she sneaked a furtive glance toward the food bowls from that long distance away, testing, Cesar was instantly ready. ‘Ssst!’
(He’d waited for that long-distance glance, and had seized the moment to reinforce the lesson.) Punkin was startled. Oops. This Alpha sees all...
Snapping to attention, she looked over at him. He held her gaze quietly. She dropped her eyes, a submissive gesture, and continued to explore the big stage. Just checkin’, Boss.
The aromatic chicken was never acknowledged again.
The dog’s owner stood there flatfooted, open-mouthed. The audience was too stunned to clap. It was pretty quiet in there for a good while.
It was Sensational.
Next- a male handler from a local rescue group brought in a super-timid cream and white labrador puppy about seven months old, who seemed glued to the fellow’s legs. The little guy wound apologetically around them, twisting the leash every which way as he hunched and fawned and crept about while being slooowly coaxed and tugged out onto the stage. The puppy looked truly intimidated by life. The sad journey took awhile.
Cesar went to him, knelt and patted him calmly, then encouraged him sniff his hand. He quietly positioned the slim collar/lead correctly, got the pup’s attention with a tiny tug, and began to walk steadily forward across the stage, radiating confidence.
He owned that moment. He. Was. Alpha. Alpha was Safety. Power.
As they strode along the puppy’s confidence grew by the second. After a few seconds the little guy pranced and gamboled along by Cesar’s side. He’d tapped into Cesar’s energy and made it his own. Life was good!
There were gasps, then huge applause.
What stellar demonstrations of ‘Own the ball,’ ‘Own the food,’ ‘Own the moment!’
How could such effective training be. so. simple?
He’d never laid a cross hand on the animals, never raised his voice. He did command their full attention by radiating calm, assertive energy, and by living in their moment. For Cesar, each dog before him was all there was.
That’s focus.
There was no mystery or magic here. Only a man with a simple plan. By offering calm, assertive energy directed absolutely toward the dog he was working with, along with a deep understanding of how they worked, he gave them- and his audience- a new way of operating.
Everyone there had the power do this, too. They just didn’t ‘own it’- yet.
He told us-“Never beg, never plead with your dog- “Sit! Sit! sitsitsit-sit! I said sit....” or... “Stay, oh, please staaaay? Staaaaaay? staaaaaaaaaaaay...?” Cesar, half-stooped, palms out, backed away from an invisible dog, pantomiming this all-too-familiar behavior to great laughter. (He’s a fine comedian.) We ruefully recognized ourselves, all right. No decent dog would be motivated to obey a pleading human victim who would shrug sadly and sigh-but never take command when his pet routinely ignored his timid requests.
Cesar demonstrated, over and over, that being The Pack Leader is essential for developing a balanced dog. And a balanced owner.
It really is that simple.
It was a pleasure to see this man in person- to witness his ability to change a dog’s life, just like that. His books, found in libraries and bookstores, are packed with insight and information.
Joe and I understand how to be pack leaders.
We deeply love our Bryn.
She is our pet, not our child.
We’ve set clear boundaries and defined the behavior she needs to master to enjoy a happy, balanced life.
A few examples:
Human furniture is for humans. Always.
Never jump on other humans, ever.
Chew what is permitted.
Pee and poo outside.
Never beg at our dinner table.
Be gentle to any smaller dog or child.
Obey our commands immediately.
And on and on.
Her life-lessons are taught with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of quiet confidence.
She is so pleased when she gets it right.
Bryn-dog is respectful, knows her place, and loves us right back, in full measure.
I offer heartfelt kudos to the brilliant Cesar Millan, for sharing his simple, profound gift with us all.