This blog was originally published in 2021
When I adopted Cooper, I dreamt of all the fun things we would learn to do together. Agility and therapy work were my top two goals. When he lunged at a guest one month after his adoption, I realized I was in over my head—I was training a reactive dog, and I had to completely refocus our goals.
When Your Dream Dog Turns Out to Be Reactive
The priority became keeping Cooper, guests, and other animals safe. Every noise and sight seemed to set him off: voices, car horns, gunshots, seeing someone walk past the house, animals in our yard—you name it.
My husband and I were committed to keeping Cooper, even when so many people told us to give him away and get a new puppy. If you have ever owned a dog that barks and lunges or cowers in fear, then you probably already know what I am talking about.
We were in a position to make changes to our lives that would help him grow into a happy adult. We just didn’t realize at the time that we were beginning the journey of training a reactive dog.
I had just started my schooling to become a Certified Dog Behavior Consultant, so I certainly did not have the necessary experience yet. Cooper ended up being the best teacher I could have asked for. Learning the ins and outs of training a reactive dog not only became essential, but here is what Cooper also taught me:
Emotional Setbacks When Training a Reactive Dog
It’s okay to get frustrated. We all have bad days, and animals do as well. While we strive as owners to prepare correctly for every training situation, setbacks are inevitable. I would curse at myself and doubt my ability if Cooper lunged or became upset in any way. That is when I decided to record our training sessions.
I was able to look back at all the subtle signs he was giving me that I hadn’t picked up on when I was working with him. After all, he told me that the situation was too confusing or too difficult well before he lunged—I wasn’t fluent or quick enough to understand what he was saying just yet.
How Training a Reactive Dog Can Change Their World
The key to Cooper’s success was teaching him that the world was not so scary by changing his emotions during very structured training sessions. He couldn’t grow emotionally unless he felt safe. We learned how to do this together, and it is because of him that I can help clients and their dogs do the same.
Celebrate the Small Stuff — It’s All Progress
Cooper’s behavior did not occur overnight (there were signs that I did not pick up on when I met him at the shelter, but I so clearly see now), and a drastic improvement was not going to happen overnight. I soon realized it is crucial to celebrate the tiny successes when training a reactive dog, even when they seem so insignificant to an outsider.
For example, the goal was for him to be comfortable with someone entering my home, but first, he needed to be comfortable seeing them from over 25 feet away outside. If he couldn’t handle 25 feet, then there was no way that he would be successful at 10 feet.
Instead of being discouraged by our slow pace as he decreased the distance from 25 feet to 10 feet over multiple sessions, I started to celebrate the small achievements. His relaxed body language, hearing the person speaking, checking in with me, and choosing to walk away instead of lunging forward were just a few examples. I ended the sessions feeling proud and excited for the next one—and as a result, Cooper also walked away from the sessions in a good mood.
The Value of a Simple Training Journal
Keeping a journal is one of the most helpful tools I use while training a reactive dog. It allowed me to look back at how far we had come and to see behavior patterns. I noticed that Cooper did not do as well during a session if it had thundered the night before. Discovering this helped us avoid setbacks by not continuing the pattern of training after a storm.
Having a Reactive Dog Doesn’t Make You a Failure
If you’re in the thick of training a reactive dog, please know you’re not alone. It is much more common than you might realize.
I learned that owning a dog with behavior concerns does not define me as a failure. “How can you be a dog trainer and have a dog that I can’t pet?” You might be surprised how often I heard that. I tried not to take offense as I politely explained that a dog’s behavior could never be “fixed” or “cured.”
I was a successful owner because I managed the environment to ensure that Cooper wouldn’t be exposed to situations that he wasn’t yet ready to handle. I set realistic goals, and I helped him reach those goals through positive reinforcement training.
Cooper made me a better handler. He pushed me to improve and grow into the behavior consultant that I am today. He taught me patience, and he helped me understand that just because a dog is lunging doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a bad or vicious dog. He might just be scared on the inside—and it is my job to help him learn that the world is not such a horrible place.
The Hardest Lesson: Knowing When to Say Goodbye
One of the most challenging life lessons that I learned is that it is okay to say “goodbye.” Cooper became suddenly ill at nine years old. Diagnosed with sepsis, possibly caused by a tumor that perforated his intestines, we had a choice to make: put him through surgery or let him go.
Even with surgery, there was less than a 50% chance that he would be able to walk out of there. If he did, he would likely experience multiple organ failures, and there was a possibility that he would need a feeding tube when he went home.
We were prepared to take on the financial burden—but our concern was the emotional toll the hospital stay would take on him. We knew that he was terrified and emotionally shut down just being there in the first place. Covid exacerbated the situation because we were not allowed to go inside with him.
Forcing Cooper through the surgery and recovery would have been incredibly selfish of us, so we made the heart-wrenching decision to let him go.
There Is No “Later” — Only Today
After his passing, I continued to learn.
I learned that it’s okay to feel a bit less stressed because we no longer had to worry about what might happen if our management failed. I felt incredibly guilty for feeling that, but I would go back and do it all again if it meant we could have Cooper back without the life-or-death illness.
I learned that there is no day like today. I started learning various activities with him over the years—nose work, precision heeling—but life got in the way. I never want to feel regret like this again.
But most importantly…
I finally learned what a “heart dog” is.
