theories

I found an old book on training lead dogs that I've been reading over the past couple of weeks. The training method is based on a system of natural consequences drawn in part from observations of dogs' interactions & socialization with their peers. At this point in my life with dogs, I've read a lot of dog training books, some of which fly directly in the face of this method and others which take this tack a lot further than I (or this author) would ever be comfortable with. I think while there are broad strokes on dog training that can absolutely be applied across the board, every dog and every situation is different and your best bet is to read everything you can, then adapt and hopefully overcome.

I should have known better than to take the boys out on a Saturday afternoon. I think I would be more willing to confront problems with Pico head on if I felt like I had some idea of where to begin to address them, but most of the time I am at a loss. We headed out on Saturday and had a nice run for about half of the hilly two-mile loop of gravel road we've been running. At the top of the hill, I was peddling hard to keep our momentum high and encourage the boys to keep running around the left turn. No no avail. Pico stopped to sniff-and-pee before we'd even started to turn. At the moment he dove into the bushes, dragging Norrin with him, I heard voices off to my right. Just thirty yards down the road, a group of ten adults and a small dog on a leash were approaching us, out for an evening stroll. I looked back at Pico, who was still 100% focused on bush-marking and hadn't seen them yet. I dropped the bike and pulled both dogs back onto the road facing uphill, then ran back hoping to get them moving again before they saw the group approaching.

No luck. The little dog spotted us and started yipping and it was all over. Before I could even straighten my bike, Pico had spun himself and Norrin 180 degrees, arcing the lines down and tangling them around my bike handles and pedals. We were now facing downhill towards the approaching group,  with Pico shaking and yelping and struggling to drag us all into the crowd and managing to block the entire road with the bike and lines. I ran forward and grabbed them both, dragging both dogs away from the little dog as the group passed us laughing and commenting on how nice it must be to go for a bike ride and not have to do any work at all. Pico was in hysterics. Knowing we would never be able to make a successful pass at this point, I turned us around and headed home the way we'd come. Even after they were out of sight, it took several tries to get the two boys lined out and moving forward in the opposite direction.

We were retracing the long straightaway when I saw two dogs on the road at the corner. I knew the second Pico saw them about thirty seconds later because he surged ahead, slamming into his tug line. His movements transitioned from smooth and graceful to jerky and frantic as he fought the harness to gain speed and get to them. I saw Norrin move as far to the right as their neckline would allow, trying to away from Pico's frantic energy. I rode the brakes hard, trying to discourage Pico's crazy bolt, but despite forcing them to a slow trot he didn't stop trying to run, digging his claws into the gravel road and surging with every stride. When we reached the dogs, they bolted into the woods to the right and Norrin managed to mostly block Pico from following them (I was expecting a crash here, if they both dragged me and the bike off the road and into the steep ditch the dogs had launched over before they disappeared.) Once Pico's chase was thwarted by Norrin's bulk and the targets were out of sight, he calmed down and stopped. I had to do some untangling before we could move on, but managed to get us going again pretty quickly.

One turn and a hundred yards later, two more loose dogs appeared in a driveway. We were already nearly on top of them when they emerged, and Pico managed to push Norrin over enough to get a straight shot, bouncing and wagging and yelping and slamming his harness.  At this point, I decided to give what I'd been reading a shot. I dropped the bike, walked over to Pico without a word, picked him up by his harness just enough for his feet to come off the ground, gave him a little shake and laid him down on the road. I held him there until he stopped struggling to go after the loose dogs, then gently let him go and walked back to my bike. I never said a word past my first ignored command of "NO" when he'd first seen the dogs. To my shock, he jumped up, shook himself and lined back out on the road, ignoring the dogs who were now disappearing down the driveway, running forward perfectly the second I straightened the bike and let off the brakes, tail wagging. We only ran another 700 feet up the hill to the house, but he was totally focused on his job for every step of those 700 feet.

I know that this method would never work for Norrin, given his sensitive personality and history of physical abuse. But for Pico, with his wild puppy ways and rough-and-tumble day-to-day life, the calm, silent correction spoke louder than any verbal command (or tirade) ever did. He seemed to immediately understand that his behavior was unacceptable and he was expected to get back to work. We haven't gone out again since that incident, but I'm going to be curious to see how this continues to play out.