The "Right Way" to Grieve

There’s no “right” way to grieve a loss—not of a job, not of a home, not of the beloved oak tree in your yard, not of a friendship that sputters and dies, not of a pet, and not of the death of someone you love.

(All of these losses are important to recognize as such. Grief is not confined to the sphere of death. What follows below, however, is in regards to death of a loved human being.)

Western society places a lot of emphasis on cultural expectation, in pretty much every area of our lives. We are exhorted to dress a certain way, wear our hair, speak, and exhibit approved behaviors to be in conformance to our gender. For example: “That’s not ladylike,” “Boys don’t cry!”, Men don’t like women with short hair,” “Masculinity means always being strong,” etc.

These statements come from centuries of conditioning and enculturation, and while individuals are (at least, as of now) free to buck them, there is no escaping these tropes’ influence upon our culture. This influence is quite apparent in the biases we have towards people who dare to dress, behave, and speak in ways that are “contrary” to the roles we have been taught belong to us.

And when we experience the death of a loved one, the culture is quick to assert itself boldly and guilt us into grieving in a particular way. In America, we are expected to “move on” within a succession of stages (I call them windows¹):

The initial window is the first 72 hours after the death. Most employed people have the luxury² of three (usually paid) days of Bereavement Leave in which we are to attend to the immediate logistics of notifying everyone, planning for a funeral and disposition, closing accounts, making arrangements for dependents’ care, and possible travel—all while navigating the intense soup of emotions that arise after a loved one dies.

Seventy-two hours. Three days. That amount of time is deemed sufficient for attending to everything needed after a death.

Spoiler alert: it is NOT enough time.

The second window starts at the end of the first. Employed folk are expected to return to the duties of their jobs. Sure, everyone at the office expects to have to walk on eggshells around you for a bit, and most will treat you tenderly (if not avoid you whenever possible so as not to be infected by your sadness). But you are expected to perform the duties for which you are being paid. Back to work!

This window has a less-defined time period. It’s anywhere from a week to a month, usually. You are expected to function at work at your usual brisk level by the end of the first week following the death. You are given a little bit of slack for your emotional state, which is still expected to be fragile, but meetings, deadlines, and work duties are not to be neglected.

Outside of work, this window is more forgiving. People are still checking on you regularly, even bringing food or helping with chores and errands. They are, at this stage, quite helpful and magnanimous with their time. Their attempts at comforting you may not suit you, but they mean well and, let’s face it, you benefit. This window holds the rawness, still, and more emotions are about to come move in with it.

Once this window with its nebulous end-time is over, the third window begins.

The third window begins without fanfare. Work is back to “normal.” Period. Where your coworkers gave you a decent amount of latitude in Window 2 if they caught you bawling in the bathroom or having a lash-out at some seemingly minor thing, once Window 3 begins, those incidents will start to work against you. You are expected to have moved on. The workplace (and the public square) leaves very little room now for emotions (and the behaviors that often stem from them) that don’t belong within its walls.

On the personal front, true friends remain helpful and at your service, both physically and emotionally. The rest start pulling back and moving on with their lives³. Acquaintances tend to avoid you if you aren’t behaving in a way that says you are trying to “get past this.” They are the ones who meet each other in passing and cluck their tongues at what an awful tragedy you suffered, but have no real patience to “deal with your sadness” right now.

Here's the thing, though. You are still raw, and reeling. Even if you do not believe this (because you, too, have bought into the culturally-mandated timeline of How Long Grief Should Last), your emotions betray you. The culture demands that we suppress our feelings of loss past a certain time, but everyone grieves differently and feelings aren’t on some stupid timeline.

A story: I took care of my aging mother on a regular basis a year or so before she passed semi-unexpectedly in 2019. She lived alone and could mostly care for herself with a little outside help, but once a week after work, I went to her grocery store and bought the items she needed, then I came to her place and cooked and ate with her, gave her a much-needed bath, spent the night, made her an absolutely necessary pot of coffee the next day, and did things like caring for her toenails, cleaning and stocking the kitchen, organizing her pills for the week, taking her to doctor visits as needed, and enjoying her company. It was a ritual we both looked forward to.

After her death, I still passed her street every Thursday on the way home from work (because the 3 days was up!), and I cried, uncontrollably, all the rest of the way home. I’m really glad I didn’t need to go into her store, because I could not do it. The thought of walking down those aisles just gutted me. (I didn’t return to that particular store for 2 years, in fact.) One day during Stage 3, I was at my grocery store near my house (same chain) and when I walked down the coffee aisle, I lost it. The smell hit me and I broke down, bawling, crumpling to the floor. People looked at me either with pity or distrust as they passed, but I bucked the cultural expectation⁴ and just let it all out in that store.

Window 3 is the classic rendering of cultural expectation slamming up against the reality of grief: it doesn’t follow a linear path, it doesn’t give a damn about culturally-expected timelines, and it will barrel down on you when you least expect it and knock you to the ground, breathless and heartbroken.

And this is all completely normal. 

You are not broken if you get triggered by the sudden smell of coffee days, weeks, months, or even years after the loss; you are not broken if you collapse right where you happen to be in that moment; you are not broken if you haven’t “moved on” in a specific window of time.

Buck the expectations—all of them, including the gender-specific ones—and feel/express your feelings, as much as is possible, when they hit, without suppressing them. If you have the privilege of being able to take more time off work, do so. (Yes, I know being at work helps distract you from the loss, but you will be better off in the long run if you do not seek out distractions right now.⁵) Routines are way more effective than distractions.

There is not one way, nor a “right way,” to grieve.

You've got this.

 

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1.)        So as not to confuse them with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s Five Stages of Grief, meant to describe what the dying person herself—not her grieving survivors--goes through. Also, my “windows theory” is mainly about what society expects from us, which often differs from what people actually feel and experience

 

2.)        It’s not a luxury—that’s the irony

 

3.)        Which is expected, culturally speaking, but it can still leave you bereft and lonely

 

4.)        That expectation being that tears of that magnitude, and any sort of wailing, are to be expressed in private, never in public. Public grief makes people really uncomfortable, doesn’t it?

 

5.)        The science supports this; it’s not wallowing, it’s dealing.

"Take a Picture--It'll Last Longer"

Every time I am invited to a social function, and someone asks me about what I do, I always say I'm an accountant.

That way, I get to enjoy my bourbon (Basil Hayden, if you please) in peace and I don't have to listen to people complain about their dogs.

Actually, the above is a lie. It doesn't happen.

I don't get invited to social events. But if I did...

Actually, that last part is the lie. I do sometimes get invited to social events, and often, I do attend, because I am an extroverted introvert (yes, that's a thing) and my wife enjoys those types of events very much and I love my wife, so we go.

And when I am asked what I do for a living, I don't lie about it because 1.) I really like what I do, 2.) I enjoy hearing about people's dogs, and 3.) I'm a terrible liar.

So, when I find myself at a social event and I am standing in front of people who have just learned that I am a human trainer of dog owners, I almost always get the following reaction:

One of the couple will elbow their spouse in the ribs and lean closer to me, eyes wide, while saying, "Oh, you really must meet our Snookums! She is TERRIBLE. She poops on the rug, she digs holes in the yard, she chases the cat, she pulls on the leash, she jumps on everyone and covers them with slobbery kisses, she grabs food off the counters, and she bolts out the door every time it is open."

(I have greatly shortened the above laundry list of Doggy Sins, mind you. But you get the idea.)

My face during this speech is largely unreadable. I will maintain a half smile and my eyebrows will rise a millimeter or two as the list grows; it's subtle, let me tell you. I sip from my sweating highball glass, never breaking eye contact. Ice cubes clink.

After they finish the whole long list of ways in which their dog is Terribly, Horribly Naughty, they pause briefly.

Then, they will break into a smile, a smile that shows teeth and crinkles around the eyes, a smile that effuses warmth, and say, "But, she's a Good Dog, and we love her!"

Here's the thing: I have zero doubt that this family has an immense amount of affection for their diggy, slobbery, jumpy, pully, poopy dog. I know that they do.

I know it because no one would put up with all of those behaviors if they did not have an immense amount of affection for their dog.

But do they really and truly love their dog?

In my storied career, I have met many, many people who consider themselves dog lovers. A plethora. A surfeit. An overabundance, a profusion, a megaton.

It's not difficult to love dogs, so it's not surprising that millions of people admit to doing so.

But they typically fall into two main categories, though sometimes there is overlap, and sometimes members of the first group become members of the second, thankfully.

Group 1 is the folks who excuse their dog's annoying, destructive, costly, and even dangerous behaviors, behaviors that may be natural to the dog but are largely incompatible with our homes and yards and lifestyles and having actual friends. Dog tears up the couch? Take a cute picture first, then buy a new couch. Dog ruins the floors because he wasn't housebroken? Get new floors. Dog pulls you down the street on the leash? Buy a harness so he doesn't choke himself, and hang on. Dog steals food? He must be hungry--feed him as much as he likes. Dog chases the cat? Eh, what are you gonna do? He's a dog--he has no impulse control. Dog jumps on people who visit? Eh, those people need to get a grip--the dog lives here, and they don't, right?

Here's a secret for you: these people don't really love their dogs. In the words of the great dog expert Sarah Wilson, they love loving their dogs. But that isn't enough.

Group 2 is the people who understand that dogs' behavior isn't always compatible to our lifestyles, but instead of shrugging and enduring it, they educate themselves on how to make the situation better. They seek out competent help and they follow the trainer's instructions. They build good training habits and practice them daily. They observe their dogs and learn their basic drives and needs, then find ways to fulfill those drives and needs every day. They learn how to train their dogs humanely, with clarity and consistency, so that the dogs know what to expect and know how to act in the home, on the leash, anywhere.

They understand that dogs are not humans in fur coats, but that, like young children, they need assistance making better choices, and that knowing what we want from them makes the dogs truly content. And just as it is their responsibility to provide the correct assistance to their children to help them succeed in life, it is their responsibility to teach their dogs how to be civilized for the human world.

This group really does love their dogs. And they are my heroes.

Dogs definitely have natural behaviors that are inconsistent with our desires to spend our days and nights with them. But if we love someone, we want what is best for them and when it is our responsibility to provide what is best for them, we do so without hesitation.

Dogs are happiest when they know what is expected. When they know what is expected, they suffer less stress and confusion. When they suffer less stress and confusion, they are relaxed, confident, well-behaved, less impulsive, and can handle what life throws at them.

When they are relaxed, confident, well-behaved, less impulsive, and can handle what life throws at them, they are the greatest companions we could ever ask for and we cherish them every day, and even after they have aged right before our eyes, muzzles and tails growing white, eyes and ears growing dim, slowing down day by day as we watch, grateful and dreading, until they melt in our arms as we sob uncontrollably with their last breaths, leaving us too soon--we keep on loving them for years, never forgetting, until our own end arrives.

Don't just take photos. Take action. Train your dog.

The Inescapable March

“22,000 days
22,000 days
It’s not a lot
It’s all you got
22,000 nights
22,000 nights
It’s all you know
So start the show
And this time, feel the flow…and get it right…”

The above song, titled 𝟮𝟮,𝟬𝟬𝟬 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀, written by Graeme Edge and sung by his seminal rock band The Moody Blues, has been part of my life since I was 16 years old and I asked for their album “Long Distance Voyager” for my birthday in 1982.

I played that entire record a lot, start to finish, for many years. Before fixating on it, I don’t recall that I’d ever paid much attention to any music of that era that so blatantly talked about the finiteness of our lives. I mean, how many 16-year-olds do you know who think about such a weighty subject at that age? I wouldn’t say I thought about it a lot, and certainly, I think about it more now, as I approach 60, than I ever have.

But the lyrics were not lost on me back then. The song has a somber quality to it, which always appealed to me; it begins with steady military-sounding percussion and minor notes that give way to slight upturns of hope occasionally, and the opening stanza doesn’t clue you in to what the song is about.

Once the 2nd stanza begins, though, you are hearing them remind you that you have about 60 years on this planet. And then, in the bridge, my favorite line: “Time’s the only real wealth you have got.” Heard, Sir. Heard.

You may have heard of the “𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗪𝗲𝗲𝗸𝘀” poster. You can order them online, or print one out.


It’s a concept popularized by blogger Tim Urban of “Wait But Why” that gives you a clear, concise visual of how much time you have left* in a no-nonsense graphic. It’s not a calendar, really, but a countdown tool, a timer, and a device for reflection and prioritization. I suspect that, for some, it could even be a trigger. (They come with the already-passed bubbles pre-filled for you--which is sobering.)

I first heard about “My Life in Weeks” from author Oliver Burkeman, who penned one of my favorite books ever: 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔: 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔. Both Urban and Burkeman base their calculations** on a life that lasts 80-90 years or so, as opposed to the bleak 60 years that The Moody Blues sing of. (One might breathe a sigh of relief here; don’t get too cocky, though*. That will trip you up.)

Neither Urban or Burkeman shy away from the truth: our lives are finite. Time to focus on the things that matter, yes? None of us, whether we are 16 or 60 or 89 and a half, should be putting off what we want to accomplish. And all of us should be thinking about that sobering fact, frequently.

Sadly, most people only think about it when they are dealing with the death (or near death) of someone they love…and when that grief begins to fade, so does the urgency of what to do with their remaining weeks. Life takes back over. Focus shifts to getting days back on track and putting food on the table and shoes on the children—as it must.

I’m of the belief that we push aside our “Weeks” calendar at our peril. It will likely not take center stage for us very often, but it should never leave our periphery. Whether we measure it with a printout on the wall, the day-to-day subtle (often maddening) changes in our physical bodies, an app on our phone ***, or the march of the seasons, the truth does not change.

“𝙏𝒊𝙢𝒆’𝒔 𝒕𝙝𝒆 𝒐𝙣𝒍𝙮 𝙧𝒆𝙖𝒍 𝒘𝙚𝒂𝙡𝒕𝙝 𝙮𝒐𝙪 𝙝𝒂𝙫𝒆 𝒈𝙤𝒕.”

How will you spend this most precious coin?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Of course, it’s only a guesstimate, since no one truly knows how much time they have left. It’s folly on our parts to believe we do, isn’t it? Life can change in an instant, and there are zero guarantees—which is why we should never assume we will have more time. As I often say, there’s a last time for everything, and it won’t be known to you.

**Again, only a guesstimate

***“We Croak” is a app that delivers quotations and aphorisms about the finality of life to your phone regularly throughout the day 

Frustration and Punishment: Unintended Consequences

Who among us hasn’t been frustrated by a dog at some point? It’s normal to experience feelings of frustration and anger because of a dog’s behavior.

But how the pet owner responds to the behavior and how he/she processes his/her feelings matters a lot to the dog AND to the relationship.

We, being human, only know how to process experiences through a human filter. We’ve never been dogs, and we cannot ever know how it feels to be them. Naturally, when they misbehave, we jump to the conclusion that they are being spiteful, jealous, dominant, guilty—because humans often are this way. But dogs are not humans, and when we jump to these conclusions, we almost always get it wrong. That demeans the dog, and it hampers our relationship with him.

What if the dog really has no idea what you expect of him in a given situation? You may think he does, but how do you know? What if he just doesn’t?

Punishing a dog for his behavior when he truly doesn’t know what he is supposed to be doing is wrong. It’s frightening and can be damaging because the dog has no idea why it is happening. It’s never fair to punish before you have taught, and even then, you must be careful how you do it.

Here’s one area in which punishment backfires almost every time.

You take Fido out to a park and let him off the leash. When it’s time to leave, you call him, and he ignores you. You keep calling, becoming more and more frustrated, and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. If you attempt to go get him to leash him up, he runs away from you. He thinks you are playing a game, or he is avoiding you because you are angry. You stand there — fuming.

A neighbor you know suddenly walks over and starts talking to you about your kids’ teacher, and you forget about the dog for a few seconds as you turn to speak with her. In that time period, your dog comes over to you, finally, in no hurry at all. You are flustered and angry that he has been ignoring you, and as soon as he’s within reach, you grab his collar angrily, shake him a few times for “taking his sweet time,” and pop him on the butt. He tries to pull away from you, but you snap the leash on, triumphant, and head to the car.

In your mind, you “showed him” by punishing his defiance. Yet, the next time this happens, he is worse, and you can only catch him when another person in the park happens to grab his collar in a timely way after he’s ignored you for 10 minutes.

In your mind, he deserved to be punished for ignoring your call. In his mind, you are a crazy witch who cannot be trusted.

You only see it from your perspective, but look at the dog’s perspective: why go to the human, especially when he/she is angry? Going to the human will get you punished. Can humans really be trusted?

Your punishment was poorly timed*, and because of this, the dog is confused. Do the humans want you to come, or don’t they?

Coming to you should always be something that ends in a reward for the dog, even if he chose to take his sweet time**. Make coming to you rewarding instead of punishing, and the dog will come more quickly, and more reliably.

If you are angry and frustrated in this scenario, you only have yourself to blame.

You allowed your dog freedom he had not earned. You allowed him to ignore your command. You punished him for actually obeying your command. Think about that: you punished your dog for obeying you!

The dog in the above scenario should never have been put in that situation to begin with. He needed more training to know how he should have behaved, and he needed an owner who understands that most everything a dog does wrong before he’s been properly trained is the human’s fault–not the dog’s.

Be proactive, and show the dog what you want before testing him and making him fail. Forgive yourself for being confusing (hey, you are human, after all!) and start fresh. Your relationship will grow by leaps and bounds.

*The only way in which punishment would work in this scenario is if you could have applied it the second he ignored you, which you could not. Therefore, since in a real-world scenario you cannot effectively punish a dog for not coming when called, make sure you never need to.

**A dog who takes his time should still be rewarded, at the very least with a happy human who pets him as the leash is clipped on, because he came. If he took his time, it means you need to be thinking about how you can speed him up which involves more training. If this happens to you, take the lesson you have learned and reduce his freedom options until you can train him better.

BONUS: having trouble knowing the right way to teach your dog to come when called? My friend Sarah Wilson wrote an entire e-book about it! You cannot go wrong with her advice. It's worth every penny.

Click the link below to learn more, and purchase. Happy training!

My Smart Puppy Guide: How to Teach your Dog to Come

Pressing Matters

I had just settled in my comfy chair for a moment. It was still early-ish on a Sunday morning and the day stretched before me without anything in particular scripted, but much that was necessary looming. I always have chores, and I am currently working my way through about 7 library books with varying due dates (none of which happened to be in reach at that moment), but my plan was to only be there for a beat or two in order to put some sort of loose plan in place for the day.

I watched Yukon Cornelius, my confident-yet-interestingly-sensitive Chihuahua sort of slink into the room and head my way, despite the fact that there are dozens of warm sleeping spots he likes strewn throughout the house. I leaned back so he could come up into my lap, because I could sense that he Wasn’t Quite Right. He shivered more than usual* and gave off a puny vibe that isn’t typical for him on the regular. Usually when he comes to me in this state, we are outside and he’s been bitten by a snake or hurt his leg chasing something. I couldn’t imagine what had caused this, but no matter. He trembled in my lap and looked piteously at me. I touched him all over, performing a Snout-to Tail assessment like I’d been taught so many years ago in my Pet First Aid class. Nothing seemed physically wrong.

Even though I’d been about 30 seconds away from rising and moving on with my day, I pushed myself back in my recliner and gathered the nearest blanket around his 7-lb body. He nestled into that space in my lap where he fits like a puzzle piece, glancing (gratefully?) at me, and his shivering began to lose some intensity. My hand massaged his pencil neck right behind his ears and his eyelids began to get very, very heavy. A large exhale finally flowed out of him, he laid his tiny head down on my other hand, shivering gone. I abandoned my plan to rise. I mean, I’m not a monster! This otherworldly being had sought me out and entrusted his pitiful self to my care, completely ignorant to what I was “supposed” to be getting done right then.

Look, I’m sentimental about my dogs, of course. My career and experience didn’t spring out of thin air. And I often sit in contemplation, with or without my dogs. But that was not my intention when I sat down this morning—not right then. What was intended to be a pause to collect my thoughts and glance at the weather app on my phone to plan housework/yardwork/electronic work duties on my day off morphed into 90 minutes of succor to A Very Good Boy because that is, apparently, what we both needed in that moment.

“My dog is usually pleased with what I do, because she isn’t infected with the concept of what I ‘should’ be doing.” ~Lonzo Idolswine

I know this scenario is familiar to anyone who might chance upon this essay. When your pet settles in your lap, he has zero concept of What You Were Thinking of Doing, much less a reason why it needed doing. And, if you are like me, it is often necessary to gently remove her so you can attend to Something That Definitely Needs Doing, as much as it pains you. (Stable, fulfilled, social pets do not hold grudges when we must make our laps disappear. They adjust and are happy to seek our laps whenever they appear.)

But sometimes, there is nothing that needs doing except what is happening in that very moment, as pets are excellent at teaching us. The moment is all they care about, as the hands of the clock move, unperturbed, inexorably forward, whether or not the chores get done, whether or not the plans unfold as scripted, regardless of the tasks required. We spend so much time *doing* that we often forget that the moments we crave pass us by, never to return. If we seek to grasp them, we fail, surprised at their ephemerality. What does it feel like to stop and listen, ignoring all else? What does it feel like to resist the urge to grasp and simply to *be*? What does it feel like when we abandon What Needs to Get Done for What Needs to Be Left Undone? What are we creating in these unscripted moments of both tactile and numinous connection with these wild creatures who inhabit our lives?

The little dog dozing in my lap knows, and I’ll bet the one in yours does, too. Make sure you are listening, so you don't miss it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

*my professional doggy colleagues (who own large breed dogs) are already giggling and rolling their eyes..."don't all chihuahuas shiver constantly?" No, actually. Not constantly, but have your laugh.

The Power of Deferred Resolution

How do you sit with uncertainty?

Most people do not do it well. Our brains are wired to search for solutions to problems, and we really, really like knowing the answers. Lots of people have negative memories of school because not knowing the answers—especially in front of our classmates—resulted in failing and embarrassment. Who doesn’t have memories of an English teacher scolding us for not knowing exactly what a novelist, poet, or playwright meant in his or her work?

We seek a diagnosis when we go to the doctor. It feels shocking when the doctor confides that he or she doesn’t know what’s wrong with us, even after multiple tests. A cloud of confusion settles into our very cracks, and we, typically, assume the worst¹. If this person who has studied extensively about the very sort of thing I am presenting doesn’t know what it is, what hope do I have of getting the correct treatment?

Medicine’s default state is uncertainty, but the culture of medicine has little tolerance for ambiguity. This means that doctors will conduct test after test and prescribe all sorts of treatments in an attempt to understand what malady we actually have—and they still get it wrong too often. Misdiagnoses in medicine are dismayingly common.

In part, this is because there isn’t time to languish amongst uncertainty in the medical field—lives are at stake. A few days could mean the difference between life or death in some cases. The doctors rush to find answers, and in that rush they sometimes make mistakes because they aren’t looking in the right place. (If you were a fan of the TV show “House” from a few years ago, you know what I mean. A grumpy misanthropic doctor can always figure out the weird diagnosis in time after he and his staff struggle with it for the majority of the show.)

When we are faced with uncertainty, we want answers and we want them sooner rather than later. But this can be a problem, and there may be a better way.

In his book Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, Jamie Holmes writes,

“Dwelling calmly among feelings of uncertainty will make you more likely to make a rational decision. The longer you sit with the not knowing, the more your odds of making a rational decision increase.”

Think about how you feel when presented with problems, in your work or your life, that don’t match up to what you expect or know. How much information do you seek, especially if you feel pushed for time? Do you stop asking questions when you have heard enough to make a “diagnosis”? Why?

According to Holmes, “people under time pressure seize on earlier information and ignore later cues.” This means that we could ostensibly miss the correct solution, because we are blocking out later information.

This uncertainty can be daunting, but you shouldn’t fear it. Rushing to find the “right” answer can cause more problems than it solves. Humans have a tendency towards closure, so when we are faced with a conundrum, we try to make sense of it. Holmes explains,

“This tendency {towards closure} has vast repercussions…it changes the way we evaluate an idea or consider an explanation, and it makes us less creative and more confident about a course of action even when we are wrong. Cognitive closure is a bit like shutting the windows of our open minds. When various pressures pile up, these windows don’t merely close…they slam shut, and they lock.”

In my dog training practice, I sometimes find myself puzzled by a dog’s behavior and I am unable to come up with a quick answer. When I get stuck, I know I need three things: time away from the work, a way to clear my mind from the work for a few hours, and a different puzzle that is not too difficult² to solve. I need some time to gestate, to think about something unrelated. If I don’t have enough time to engage in an unrelated-to-dogs hobby (such as a walk in the woods alone) before I need the answer, I will seek out a crossword puzzle, a jigsaw puzzle, or even Sudoku (which I rarely play for fun) to help me try to order the world a bit differently. Studies show that when humans are faced with uncertainty, we seek closure anywhere we can find it-—and this can help us have breakthrough insights in regards to unrelated problems.³

Norman begins to hyperventilate when he sees the doctor. “Doc, I’m sure I’ve got liver disease.”

“Nonsense!” says the doctor. “You’d never know if you had liver disease. There’s no discomfort of any kind.”

“Exactly!” Says Norman. “Those are my precise symptoms!”

Training yourself to embrace uncertainty isn’t easy, but it’s a valuable skill, because we all understand that life contains a multitude of problems to solve. Rushing for closure is rarely the best way to get ourselves unstuck.

Dwell for a bit in the not knowing, and see if an answer doesn’t come.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1.   1.  Our brains are hard-wired towards negativity; this is called the “negativity bias.”

2.     If the puzzle or problem you choose is too difficult to solve, it will just frustrate you further, instead of giving you a "win." Conversely, it shouldn't be so easy that you can solve it in a minute or less. Go for medium difficulty, where your brain is engaged for a while, and you will stick with it until you solve it.

3.     You might be surprised to learn that everything is related, really.

The Persistence Payout

 

Anyone who owns a dog is familiar with “the stare.” And as an evolutionary technique, it’s a damn efficient one—most people give in to it, many without even thinking. The moment your dog comes to live with you, he starts learning about you. He’s a veritable researcher, taking note of your body language, your tone of voice, your tics and fidgets. He can’t understand the vast majority of the things you say, but he learns pretty quickly that some behaviors he exhibits Always Work, some Never Work, and a few Sometimes Work in order for him to gain the resources he desires.

Some of the behaviors he learns to employ to get a resource are quite adorable, and they play into our connection and love for the dog, meeting many of our needs. These are the behaviors that Always Work in terms of the dog getting resources we dole out (food, treats, petting, playtime, access). For instance, the outdoor-focused dog who stands by the door and when you look over at him, he does this cute spin-around-and-bark-twice-thing that always makes you laugh, or at least smile, and usually talk to him in a happy voice as you run open the door to let him out.

That spin-bark is a learned behavior, consistently reinforced with rewards. It’s like a soda machine, because it always pays out. And while the barks may be slightly annoying at times, the cuteness factor of the perfectly-executed spin usually overrides any annoyance you might have with the trick.

The dog has learned that he can make you do something he likes by performing this series of behaviors in this specific context. And let me be clear: this is not necessarily a bad thing; letting the dog out has advantages, of course, and the dog who lets you know that he needs to go out to do his business is more helpful than the dog who just pees in front of the door if you haven’t noticed him standing there.

So, both human and dog benefit from this purposeful manipulation.

Of course, there are some ways in which the dog uses behaviors to manipulate his humans that are not beneficial to the humans, like barking at people to demand that they pet him, shoving gross, dirty toys or balls onto them to force a game, barking and jumping on his humans to demand food or treats. These demands are generally ones people find unpleasant (and they call us to fix). Some annoying behaviors are just annoying (barking/whining), and some can be downright dangerous (e.g. sliding between our legs as we are walking, or jumping up/putting teeth on people).

Fixing these behaviors begins with the owner agreeing to stop rewarding them: with attention, petting, food, or a door opening to the outside (many people don’t even realize that they have been inadvertently teaching the dog to continue these unruly shenanigans by responding to them). When these behaviors are rewarded, the dog learns that they either Always Work, or Sometimes Work. If we want them to stop, we have to make sure they Never Work from here on out.

(As you probably know, while this advice is 100% true, it’s not always easy for mortals to follow—because, well, people love their dogs and they mistake ever-ready indulgence for showing love.)

So what happens is this: the dog starts to learn that certain behaviors Sometimes Work.

And that is a lesson that we, in most situations, do not want pet dogs to learn. (Cue “Jaws” theme here.)

Allow me to pivot momentarily to get to the reason I decided to write this post. I am a fan of the Washington Post’s advice columnist[1] Carolyn Hax, who is a brilliant advice-giver and always makes me want to be a better human being; she understands nuances of behavior and how to tell people what they need to hear with straightforward kindness while avoiding platitudes.

She responded to a letter a few days ago and it was spot-on. A letter writer (LW) had complained about a “friend” who kept asking her to do unreciprocated favors constantly, and would get really surly (and push and push even harder) when she occasionally said no, so LW would end up hemming and hawing and finally giving in and doing them anyway, to “keep the peace.” (Yes, as I read this letter I literally screamed, “you are training her to breach your boundaries! Stop doing that! Also, she isn’t your friend.”)

Hax replied, with way more restraint than I, “you will never get ‘peace’ by encouraging persistence,” and my nucleus accumbens lit up like a Jumbotron.

We want the dog to know, definitely, which behaviors Always Work, and which behaviors Never Work.

When we refuse to reward a behavior most of the time, but occasionally give in to the dog’s barking, jumping, pawing at us or putting teeth on us, whether it is for our attention, or food, or play, or access to an area or item, we are teaching them to be more persistent in their efforts to gain that thing by using that behavior.

Basically, the dog thinks, “it won’t always work right away, but there’s a good chance that if I keep at it, it will pay off for me eventually.”

Persistence in a working dog is like a steering wheel in a vehicle—you have no “drive” without it. You want a persistent border collie herding your flock of sheep, a persistent cattle dog herding your cows, a persistent police dog chasing a suspect, a persistent hound dog following a scent. All of these dogs are bred to stay with a task and not give up if it becomes too difficult, or because they got distracted.[2]

But a pet dog with a lot of persistence who exhibits “bad” behaviors consistently can be a pet owner’s nightmare. Most people who acquire a dog will be much, much happier if he doesn’t score high on the persistence scale because that dog will just be easier to own and train and live with.

“You will never get ‘peace’ by encouraging persistence” applies so much to pet dogs that it’s uncanny.[3]

We encourage persistence in the dog when we withhold reward for a period of time before delivering it. (Yes, this works for behaviors we do like, too—but we are focusing on negative behaviors for now.)

Let’s say Boopsy is barking at you for attention while you are working on your computer. You are deep into your spreadsheets and you are able to tune her out for a while. (Last week, you were jumping up as soon as the barking started, but you’ve realized the error in that.) You ignore. The barking continues, and it starts to grate on you. You know you shouldn’t address it, because any attention from you at this point—even just a glance in her direction--will count as a reward. But it’s now driving you insane. You also know that yelling at her to stop Never Works (for you), and the only way to turn off the din is to get up and give her a toy to play with, or pick up her leash.

Whichever of these you resort to will not matter, because both send a message: bark at the human long enough, and eventually they will cave.

Conversely, if the barking for attention never works, the average, not-bred-for-persistence pet dog will give up that behavior after a few tries, and it will be Problem Solved.

(Unlike people, dogs stop doing things that never work for them. They stop much sooner if the behavior has never, ever worked than if it used to work but now does not work.)

And, next time, if you get Boopsy a bone to chew or a toy to distract her before she starts barking, when she is actually calm and is just watching you from her bed a few feet away, she learns that being calm and watching her human will pay off. Problem Solved, AND new behavior learned.

Ignoring behaviors you do not like that are designed to get your attention will stop when they do not, in fact, get your attention. But ignoring these behaviors for a period of time and then rewarding them by giving in will actually strengthen them! Whoops!

If it’s a behavior you enjoy, it doesn’t hurt the dog, and you aren’t one day going to change your mind and want to put an end to it, no problem. Strengthen away!

But if you want a behavior to stop, you never want the dog to learn that “persistence pays.”

My best advice? Figure out which behaviors are beneficial to you and the dog, and strengthen them from the beginning, purposefully; and decide which behaviors you do not enjoy that do not serve you or the dog, and make sure they never get rewarded in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[1] Do you pronounce the ‘n’ in this word? Or do you say, “colum-ist”? I think most of us say “columNist,” but…why? We don’t say “columN.”

[2] A well-bred working dog doesn’t get distracted away from the work—he lives for it. The work is the reward.

[3] “Never” isn’t really the right word here, because you can actually put persistence to your advantage with the “stay” (and other helpful) commands.

 

What Drives Your Dog?

All domestic dogs were originally bred for a purpose: to serve humans in some fashion. How dogs were domesticated itself has multiple theories, but that they were domesticated to assist us is not scientifically in question. One of the smartest things humans ever did was to start creating specific breeds of dogs to perform tasks for us.

 This handsome devil is a Beauceron, a
French breed used to guard and
herd sheep. Do you have sheep?

We needed confident guardians for flocks, temples, businesses, and homes. We needed agile farmhands to herd the livestock without injuring it over terrain we couldn’t reach; hounds to sight, scent, chase down, and tree the game (and tell us loudly where they had done so); and bird dogs to locate, flush, and retrieve the fowl we hunted (someone should have realized early on that a dog who could pluck feathers cleanly would also be very valuable). We needed ratters to keep the rodent population in check, husky-type dogs to pull our sleds, and even small dogs to be lap-sitting companions (and loud, ankle-destroying, blanket-adoring, shivering protectors).

Of course, nowadays most dogs in developed countries are not chosen as working companions but simply as pets. And many dogs bred for other purposes are actually pretty good at being our pets, because we needed dogs to be able to work, but we also wanted them for company and comfort. So we selected for working ability and pro-sociability in many breeds. Mix some of the breeds together and you get desirable (and undesirable) snippets of each breed represented.

But no matter what, your dog, mixed or purebred, comes with innate drives to perform certain behaviors. And without proper outlets to express these drives, your dog will become bored, destructive, stressed, neurotic, and potentially even dangerous.

So giving our dogs a job to do helps them in numerous ways, even if it isn’t the exact job they were bred to do (but the closer you can mimic that, the better…and, let’s face it…some of us are decidedly not working in the field of our degree, are we?). Ideally, you should never acquire a dog with innate drives that are in opposition to what you want the dog to be for you and what the dog will deal with regularly¹. It’s not fair to the dog, and it’s a huge headache for the majority of owners over time, many of whom end up giving up on the dog, or worse--relegating it to a life of frustration because it will never have its needs met.

But people often choose dogs for looks, or for familiarity, for some unconscious ideal they need the dog to meet, or because “it’s sad and needs me.” Choosing a dog is often an incredibly emotional decision and rationality rarely makes an appearance, unfortunately. This leads, at best, to owners having to step up and do right by the dog no matter how much work it is for them (and despite most people in this situation swearing up and down that they will not give up on Fido, most do have a breaking point, which is often well past the point where Fido’s behavior has been cemented), and, at worst, to poor placements where Spot ends up living life at the end of a chain or in an outdoor kennel with very little human contact or stimulation.²

Ask any reputable dog trainer what’s the worst that can happen to a dog and they will describe the latter. It’s enough to make us weep, rend our clothing, and quit the profession, truly. (For the record, we’d much rather see the dog rehomed properly than relegated to a life of nothing. If you cannot meet the dog’s needs, rehoming is the kindest option.³)

Drive is defined as the ability and propensity of a dog to exhibit a particular pattern of behaviors when faced with particular stimuli. Drives are triggered by these particular stimuli and expressed in a typical and predictable way that is associated with the particular stimulus.

I said "drives," not "driving." He's not
taking you to the airport.

A well-bred dog will often exhibit behaviors related to its innate drives when it is just weeks old. The Border collie puppy will show the classic “stare, stalk, chase” sequence when placed near sheep. The pointer puppy will stalk and hold a point. The beagle puppy will follow a scent, ignoring distractions.

The Belgian Malinois puppy will take the pain of “puppy mouthing” to a whole new level of discomfort. (They don’t call them “Maligators” for nothing.)  

Knowing what your dog is driven by will help you train him to be a happy, well-behaved, fulfilled member of your family who could have been taught to bring you the paper from the driveway every morning, but now will never know this skill in our digital age.

So, how do you know what your dog’s drives are? Well, if you own a well-bred specimen of a purebred dog, you should be ahead of the game, as a more deeply researched dive into the breed standard will, at the very least, tell you what that breed was bred for, and how those drives should manifest.

This Chihuahua fancies
himself as a ratter. After
years of trying, he
finally caught something.

(Granted, dogs are individuals. I’ve known retrievers that didn’t give a fig about carrying anything orally, much less bringing it back to you willingly and happily. I’ve met terriers who’d lie down, yawning, as they watched a squirrel dart past them, bird dogs who completely ignored anything with feathers, and hounds who rarely engaged in sniffing and wandering, even at liberty. But these examples are as rare as a month with only 29 days.)

But what if your beloved Mr. Wigglesworth is of, shall we say, dubious parentage? Sure, nowadays you can have him tested, but most of the tests are questionably reliable and most people don’t do them, anyway.

What is the mutt owner to do?

Here’s an idea: observe your dog. Find ways to put him in environments (safely, please!) that would allow him to choose an activity of his own accord in order to fulfill himself. (NOTE: running up and down a fence screeching at the neighbor's dog is NOT a healthy activity, so please stop allowing it.)

In your yard or familiar environments, watch how he plays with (or ignores) other dogs, how he interacts with people, especially kids, and how he engages in particular activities.

Better yet, take your pooch for a walk in the woods (and, at a separate time, in a large open field), on a long, non-retractable leash, and, within reason, let him wander and explore.⁴ How much sniffing does he engage in when no one is hurrying him along? What does he do when a squirrel torments him from a few feet away, or anything furry races off nearby? Where is his gaze? Does he look skyward often, or seem very interested in flying creatures? Maybe he enjoys dropping down to loll in the grass or dirt, or purposefully roll in some unidentifiable substance (probably goose poop or worm guts—let’s be real).

Does he scan for creature movement? Give chase? Does he stick his nose in every hole or crevice? Dig furiously? Does he pay attention to you when not being asked to? How does he react when he experiences something he is unfamiliar with? Does his reaction to an unfamiliar thing change if it is a person who appears in view, as opposed to something small scurrying about? What does your dog do if you happen to chance upon a.) a deer, b.) a small-footed man wearing an obvious toupee, c.) a young person carrying more than 2 unripe mangoes, or d.) a friendly yeti?

If you have a fenced yard, you may be inclined to just observe him when he is outside poking about, instead of leashing him to walk elsewhere. Certainly, you might be able to answer some of the above questions in this manner (well, probably not the yeti one), but unless his natural drives are very strong, he may just be happy to lounge in the sun because the environment is familiar and boring.

So dropping the both of you into unfamiliar natural territory, preferably territory teeming with all manner of sights, sounds, and smells that dogs generally react to, is more likely to make this little test an educational one for you.

Additionally, you can assess doggy drives using toys and treats and play: throw toys of varying types, or attach a string to a toy and drag it around where your dog can join in the fun; create noise and excitement with toys; hide treats in increasingly more difficult locations; start running and encourage your dog to chase you (I don’t recommend this last tip if you made the mistake of getting a Malinois puppy).

Once you have a decent idea of what your dog enjoys doing, you can create situations that allow him to express those drives safely, thereby giving him positive outlets for his energy and giving him true mental stimulation at the same time, which makes for a contented dog, and makes you An Exceptional Owner.

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1. E.g. don’t choose a dog with guarding drives and then expect it to be perfectly happy with people just walking into your home without knocking, or your kids’ friends coming through doors breathlessly, completely unannounced. Effective training can help curb some of the behaviors related to the guarding drive, but training cannot override genetics.

2. Some breeds like livestock guardians were indeed created to work independently from human oversight, but that does not give owners license to neglect them.

3. This whole idea that “people who get rid of dogs are trash and unworthy of owning a dog” is an unkind fallacy that serves no one positively and productively; as with most issues in life, it is not black and white, but full of many shades of gray. Rehoming a pet that you cannot properly care for is not shameful.

4. Look, I shouldn’t have to say this, but exercise caution here. If you already know your 100+ lb dog will take off running after anything that moves, when that long leash gets taut, you can be severely injured trying to hold onto him, so be smart.