Ignoring Behavior

My last question when we left the Behavior Clinic was, “Do we work outside or stay in?” The vet was emphatic:  “You want to set up situations where you can control the outcome. Do not go to new places or try new things till we give the drugs time to start to work.”

Okay. So….. other than taking drugs in the right dose and on schedule, there have been a  few basic exercises she gave us to do, and we started a major one that day. Because it was so obvious that he controlled me by timing his response to commands—and then his un-response to same—to manipulate me to give him the treat rewarding him for “obeying” the command when he sat after I told him to sit (again) after he popped back up then I would say “sit” and reward him (again) and he would pop up, and so on, she, um, encouraged me to modify that conduct.

The exercise she gave us was to completely ignore any unwanted behavior (including the popping up and sitting) except a quiet lying down, or a quiet sit that was not an obvious manipulation, and then reward only with a quiet “Good boy.” When working on that exercise at home, we have a special, light leash, used only for that purpose. Whisper knows when I clip his blue leash, narrower than all others, to his collar that we are working on his “Good Boy!” exercise. He probably wonders WHY we are working on it, but he always enjoys one-on-one time, so he gives it his full attention.

That “ignoring unwanted behavior” part can be harder than it sounds. For instance, in writing this post, the “ignoring” part resulted in five rows of “3’s” on the page as that beautiful head rested on the keyboard, and then, as he shifted, a couple of rows of “t’s” flew by.  The unwanted characters were, of course, easy simple enough to delete. But it’s not the easiest thing to sit here seeing numbers run across the page, wanting to rip the computer from under the dog’s chin, gritting your teeth, waiting.

Eventually, though, he gave up and just put his head on the floor, under the stool which is right now by the couch, originally the platform for charging various kindles and controls for heating pads.  Some of them got moved to the floor. (Remain calm....."Good boy." Calm. Unclench jaw.) A light dog bed placed by the couch indicates his “place,” though only half his body rests there, the rest covering the kindle fire that somehow got under his head.  When calm takes over the room, he dozes; when the manchild gets home, or someone walks into the room, well, there really is only so much you can ask of a puppy. 

But, he knows now the bed and the leash mean “I lie here and am calm and don’t get treats to behave this way, but get praise for reward.” The hope is—the point of the exercise—is that this behavior will translate to places away from home, that we can take the bed or a pad with us and get the same calm behavior. This would be assuming Whisper and I continue to work.

And, smart boy, he learned the exercise in roughly 37 seconds—needs perfecting, of course. But, he gives me hope that if I can get my part right, we can get him able to go out in public. I don’t expect the type of behavior my Millie had—she believed all humans were put on earth to pet her. But if he can learn to behave appropriately, I will be happy.

After half hour, or so, I unclip the leash, Whisper, did I mention smart boy?, knows we are through, and he gets up, gives a shake, and finds a tennis ball (they're everywhere) and offers it to me, which I refuse, for the umpteenth time today. (Before you feel badly for the puppy, I have thrown tennis balls many, many times more than I have refused them!) He takes his ball back and lies on the couch. 

Medicine time.

Step-by-step. And, one step is learning to selectively ignore.