I had my camera running at just the right time this week. I just love this clip of Summer interacting with…wildlife. Nobody got hurt. But I should add that it was rather foolish of me to allow this interaction at all. You never know what might be living in the detritus under your hose reel–but the dogs knew there was something.
So….comments are open and let’s hear your speculations about what is going on with Summer! She is fearful and jumpy, but what else? Do your best to base your comments on observations of specific actions.
I’ll participate in a limited way in the comments (no spoilers from me!) then publish a followup blog with my own observations and a bit of history. Enjoy!
Thank you to Debbie Jacobs and Randi Rossman who made suggestions about this. All conclusions and any errors are my own.
Have you heard the term “opposition reflex” used in dog training? It’s used pretty often. But recently I got to wondering whether the opposition reflex was really a reflex. (Quick answer: “No.” Shortest blog post I’ve ever written.)
Would you like to hear the story anyway?
First, some context. I gathered the following quotes about the “opposition reflex” from a selection of dog training articles.
The dog’s opposition reflex [is the] instinctive reaction to push against a push.
Dogs have a natural resistance to pressure called the opposition reflex.
If dogs are pulled in one direction, they will automatically pull in the other direction.
The opposition reflex is your dog’s natural instinct to resist pressure.
Wow. Instinctive! Natural! Automatic! But then I started looking for the term “opposition reflex” in lists of actual reflexes. I looked in biology, physiology, and learning theory textbooks. I looked in scholarly articles.
Virtually all mentions of the so-called “opposition reflex” are in lay articles about dog and horse training. So where did this term come from and why do we use it? It’s not in the textbooks.
We have Pavlov to thank for part of the confusion about the opposition reflex. Interesting, since he was a physiologist. Pavlov came up with the term “freedom reflex” for the escape behaviors of a dog who strongly resisted the harness he used in his laboratory. He generalized it to all organisms. (It turns out that Pavlov liked to call all sorts of things reflexes. That is a whole other discussion.)
Most scholars agree that Pavlov grossly over generalized from the actions of the dog, and was mistaken in calling what was essentially resistance to coercion as a reflex. As one of his critics states:
There is of course no reflex of freedom, although it is easy to see resistance to coercion in animals and humans. Herding cats is nearly impossible, and it is equally hard to keep male dogs from sniffing females in heat. Wild horses resist taming, and most animals cannot be domesticated at all. Human beings fiercely resist unwanted control. But struggling against coercion is not a reflex — it is nothing like a simple atom of behaviour. –Baars, Bernard. “IP Pavlov and the freedom reflex.” Journal of Consciousness Studies 10, no. 11 (2003): 19-40.
But decades after Pavlov, trainers grabbed onto the concept of the freedom or opposition reflex. Mentions start to appear in the mid 1990s in training literature, first applied to horses, then to dogs, as far as I could tell. Some authors connected the two terms, as in this article: “Opposition Reflex in Horses.” It’s pretty clear that what many people refer to now as the opposition reflex is a direct descendent of Pavlov’s freedom reflex. The problem? It never was a reflex and it’s still not a reflex.
What Is a Reflex?
Reflexes are involuntary, discrete, and consistent behaviors. As Baars mentions in the quote above, they can be thought of as “atoms of behavior.”
A reflex is an automatic response to nerve stimulation. –Alters, Sandra. Biology: understanding life. Jones & Bartlett Learning, 2000.
Some examples of reflexes in dogs are:
the scratch reflex (dog’s leg kicks when you scratch them on certain parts of the body);
the palpebral reflex (dog blinks when the skin below the corner of the eye is tapped);
the pupillary light reflex (the pupil of the dog’s eye contracts when a bright light is shined on it);
the withdrawal reflex (dog pulls foot away when toe is pinched);
and many more, including at least 10 other reflexes having to do with stimulation and response of parts of a dogs legs.
These are immediate, involuntary responses.
Pavlov’s so-called freedom reflex consists of much more varied behavior, sometimes chains of behaviors, which comprise methods of escape. These behaviors vary to the extreme by species and individuals. A large, gentle animal might just walk away if you tried to restrain it without any special equipment. But anyone who has ever tried to handle feral kittens knows that their methods of trying to escape are typically painful and actually dangerous (because of the possibility of infection from scratches and bites) to humans.
What are typical situations in which an animal might exhibit these compensatory or escape behaviors?
The animal is trying to get to something and is being restrained
The animal is trying to get away from something and is being restrained
The opposite can also occur: the animal is being forced to move and is resisting, as when a trainer tries to force a sit by pushing the dog’s butt down.
The animal has been knocked off balance and is trying to regain equilibrium.
(I’m omitting situations where the animal has been trained to create or maintain pressure, such as a roping horse who can hold a cowboy’s line taut, or all sorts of animals that pull sleds or carts.)
Do you see the pattern here? In all cases, the animal is resisting force, confinement, or physical discomfort. When we use the phrase “opposition reflex,” we are often neatly sidestepping the fact that we are trying to get the animal to do something it doesn’t want to do. It’s a shortcut, a label that unfortunately encourages us to leave out our agency in the matter.
When Is This Discussed in Dog Training?
The so-called opposition reflex is generally brought up in discussions about leash walking, molding behaviors, and play.
Countless writers highlight a dog’s supposed opposition reflex when discussing why a dog won’t yield to leash pressure, but instead, might pull the other way. Reducing the reasons a dog might not yield to leash pressure, or will take action to create it, to an “opposition reflex” is simply applying a label. It gives us no insight into the situation. Many writers grab onto the phrase without considering the many sources and reasons for this behavior:
First and foremost, most dogs naturally travel much faster than we do. They want to get moving. There is a natural disconnect in our locomotion speeds. This creates a taut leash as our slowness holds them back.
They are trying to get to something interesting, and we are passively or actively slowing them down. Again, this creates a taut leash.
We are trying to get them away from something interesting, and they want to stay there. This time we are actively creating the taut leash.
They are frightened and trying to get away from us, the leash, or something else they perceive as threatening.
Positive reinforcement-based trainers try to avoid these situations anyway. We don’t want to drag our dogs around. To me, it seems much more helpful to understand that the dog is wanting to go at a different speed or to a different location than to reduce it to “opposition reflex.” The “opposition” part can make them sound downright contrary, instead of being creatures with their own agency and interests. On the other hand, the “reflex” part obscures that their behavior may be a visible indication of what they want or intend. Reflex sounds like they pull because they can’t help it, not because they are motivated by something.
Training by Molding Behaviors
The second place you read about the “opposition reflex” is in discussions of molding as a training technique. This is not a method that positive reinforcement-based trainers use, but it bears mentioning because people who do use it bring up the opposition reflex. It’s found in the old “push the dog’s butt down to teach him to sit” method. If you’ve ever tried it, you’ve probably experienced what people call the opposition reflex. It is an instant resistance by the dog to being pushed. It’s very common. It’s resistance to being thrown off balance and/or coerced. But again, labeling it “opposition” can even make it sound like this resistance is naughty or defiant.
Play and Restrained Recalls
A final situation in which people discuss the opposition reflex is in activities that involve drive and enthusiasm. For instance, some agility trainers use what are called “restrained recalls.” A partner restrains the dog while the handler calls her. The dog’s struggle to escape can result in a faster recall when she is released.
Note that the latter situation matches my description #1 above: the dog is trying to get to something and is being restrained. If you have a play history with your dog, this can be fun for the dog. But it’s pretty obvious it’s not a reflex–they are trying to get to something.
Here’s an example where I am restraining my dog in a training/play situation. Check out 0:26 in the video.
I contend that Summer’s pushing against my hands as I pull her backwards is not a reflex. We’re seeing a dog who wants to run forward and get to the garden hose.
What’s the Problem With the Phrase?
I think we should question our use of the phrase “opposition reflex” because:
It’s a label–it can stand for dozens of different behaviors.
The behaviors it is used to describe are generally not reflexes.
It discourages us from analyzing and asking why the behavior is being performed. (E.g., the leashed dog simply wants to go faster.)
It discourages us from looking at our role in setting the stage for the behavior.
It discourages us from determining the consequences that are driving the behavior.
It sounds automatic, non volitional.
It also sounds negative. Opposition sounds like defiance.
It promotes confusion about respondent and operant behaviors.
I don’t think the term is going away anytime soon. But I hope we can get better at actually observing and describing behavior and understanding its causes and consequences. If we did that, this term would be left behind.
Have you heard the phrase in more contexts that I have listed? Have you ever seen a true reflex mentioned when discussing the opposition reflex?
Wow, opposition in the trenches. (I’m going to avoid the obvious joke there.)
First, yes, I’m aware of the term thigmotaxis. I know it is mentioned in Steven Lindsay’s book with regard to the opposition reflex. He uses the word “reflex” in many different senses in the book. Also, in Volume 3, he rescinds his recommendation of the term thigmotaxis for response to leash pressure, and returns to using opposition reflex. It’s pretty clear that his original citing of thigmotaxis was an educated opinion. He changed his mind.
Positive thigmotaxis (turning **toward** touch or pressure) is known in neonate puppies. Other than that I haven’t seen it listed as present in dogs.
To anyone who wants to claim that the opposition reflex in dogs is a true reflex/respondent behavior/thigmotaxis, the burden of proof is on you. I have already tried and failed. You may succeed, then I’ll retract appropriate statements and amend my post. To provide evidence you will need to do the following:
Cite a source listing the “opposition reflex” as a true reflex from a canine anatomy/physiology, neurology, or other veterinary textbook.
Show that near 100% of neurologically healthy dogs demonstrate it in the same way.
Show the body part that can receive the stimulus and nerve group involved.
Show that the same physiological response is consistent.
Show that it can’t be punished or reinforced (though it could be attached to a new stimulus).
As I mentioned, I have already tried and failed to find these things. Please let me know if you find them.
It’s the start of tick season here in the Northeast and I’ve been reflecting on last year’s tick season and how we almost lost our sweet BooBoo. So in the interest of raising awareness and saving lives, I share with you our story.
It was a beautiful Sunday in April 2015, one of the first nice days of the spring. My husband and I decided to take our two rescues, Mr. Barbo and BooBoo, for a hike and before we headed to bed that night, we did our standard post-hiking tick check and everyone checked out clean.
The next day we let the dogs out and as they chased the squirrels, BooBoo’s rear legs slipped and she fell. Did she trip on the pool cover? Maybe her hip dysplasia was acting up after our hike? I wasn’t really sure but she wiped out and then just kept going.
By dinnertime she was non-weight bearing on her right rear leg and I immediately worried she had an ACL injury from her earlier slip. I knew that non-weight bearing was a classic symptom so I put an afterhours call into our vet and immediately started her on some Rimadyl.
Over the next five days she improved and regressed. We brought her to the vet to rule out an ACL injury and our vet suggested we could re-run a Lyme test, even though she had just had one two months ago and even though we use Vectra 3D monthly. We declined the test and suspected it was an injury from the slip that was causing her limp.
Our first red flag that we were dealing with something else came Saturday evening when she was curled up on the couch and whimpered as she adjusted herself. We left a message for the vet saying we would need an appointment first thing after the weekend because the Rimadyl wasn’t working.
But, that plan changed Sunday morning when we woke up and she wasn’t in bed with us. We found her on the floor, lethargic and reluctant to move. She wouldn’t eat, not even her favorite treat and her temperature was well over 105. We rushed her to our local emergency facility, calling ahead so they were prepared to receive her. When temperatures are that high, the chance of a seizure is a real risk.
BooBoo in the hospital
We arrived at the ER and they immediately started cooling her. We explained the weeklong history since our hike and they suggested a Lyme test, as our vet originally did. So we did the in office “snap test” but it came back negative. Despite the negative results, she was symptomatic of a tick disease and they suggested a full antibodies panel and PCR test for all the tick illnesses. We started Doxycycline right away and ran bloodwork and everything came back normal. The tick panel would take several business days for results but if it were a tick disease, the Doxy should start to knock it out. They admitted her for IV antibiotics and fluids to stabilize her and then said we could take her home. After midnight, they called, said her temperature had been stable since 10PM and we could take her home with oral Doxy and Tramadol for pain.
We followed-up with our regular vet on Monday and she agreed with the ER’s diagnosis. BooBoo was on the meds, still lethargic and not eating well but her temperature seemed to be controlled.
But then Tuesday evening her temperature spiked back over 104 again and we rushed back to the ER where they admitted her again, this time for several days. We consulted with the internal medicine specialist to discuss the all possibilities from cancer to autoimmune issues to tumors and other super scary things since the Doxy didn’t seem to be working. We ran additional diagnostics including ultrasound and x-rays and she got the all clear. No cancer. No tumors. All of her organs were the right size and everything looked perfect. A glimmer of good news in a sea of uncertainty. But her fever was still fluctuating and they were struggling to keep her stable. The 5 doctors now on her team were all brainstorming to figure out what was causing our sweet Boo to be so sick.
Later in the week, the antibodies results returned a “high positive” for Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. I was thrilled to know what we were dealing with but I was baffled. We hadn’t been in that area of the country, so how did she get it? But then I learned that despite its name, only 5% of the cases were actually from that region1. As I researched, she fit much of the epidemiology. RMSF is called “the great imitator” because clinical signs are often vague and symptoms are often confused with other infections but high fever, joint and muscle pains are usually observed within 3 days of exposure. And with delayed diagnosis and treatment, within days the effect on the central nervous and vascular systems can be devastating including death within a very short period of time. I was beginning to realize how close we were to losing her.
So with the RMSF on the radar, the vets changed the drug regimen within 24 hours she stabilized and we were able to bring her home Friday. The bad news was the PCR test came back negative, which meant either she had been a carrier of RMSF for a long time and it was a red herring that was throwing off what we should actually be treating or that the DNA wasn’t in her bloodstream because it had attached to things like cell or artery walls. Since RMSF typically attacks the vascular system the latter option was a possibility, but we had no way to be sure.
We stayed the course and remained vigilant for any additional symptoms and completed the prescribed 3 weeks of medication. She progressed little by little but never got to 100% by the time the drugs ran out. She was still reluctant to jump up and was still very tentative on the stairs.
So what now? Retesting the tick panel at this point wouldn’t give us any new information. We could do additional diagnostics like joint taps to rule out things like autoimmune polyarthropathy but doing invasive procedures like that brings its own risks. Would she now be lame forever?
We opted to started her on Prednisone to see if her mobility improved. After 2 days of Prednisone, she had mobility improvement but also was experiencing the known side-effects of steroids – increase appetite (not really bad for her at this point) and increased thirst/urination. We continued the Prednisone for months, dropping the dose as advised but noticed that even though we were dropping her dosage, her need to urinate very frequently wasn’t subsiding. This caused our vet to begin to worry about liver, kidney and diabetes risks. We ran additional bloodwork and now her liver values were dangerously high. We continued to step down the Prednisone as quickly as we safely could and added in Denamarin, to help support her liver.
It would take over six months after her diagnosis to completely step her down off the medications before her liver values returned to normal and she got a clean bill of health.
BooBoo feeling good again
So here we are, a year later at the beginning of a new tick season. She’s healthy and happy but is a changed dog and we’ve made changes as a result of this experience. We still hike – our dogs love it and even through almost life ending experience, I wouldn’t want to keep them from that joy. After all my research on RMSF and the recent Powassan virus, I discovered that some of these tick-borne diseases only take a few hours to be transmitted and that is truly frightening to me. Unlike Lyme, where the tick needs to be attached for 24-48 hours to transmit the disease, RMSF can be transmitted in as little as 5 hours. This means hiking a full day and not checking for ticks until before bed will no longer do. We now do a mid-hike tick check every 2 hours if we’re out for a long day in the woods.
As I reflect back on this ordeal, I’ve got several important takeaways that I’d like to share.
Know your dog inside and out. Know how to take your dog’s temperature and pulse. Just like people, dog temperatures vary and knowing what is normal for your dog could help you spot an early warning sign. Know your dog’s normal vitals (body temperature, average resting pulse), appetite pattern, coat texture and sleeping habits.
Be your dog’s advocate. Don’t just wait it out to see if it gets better on its own, as tempting as it might be. Time is of the essence. Seek out care right away and be your dog’s advocate. Don’t wait for organ failure or hemorrhaging – it very well might be too late to treat at that point. Be proactive in the care your dog gets.
Pet insurance. We purchased insurance soon after adoption so there would be no excluded pre-existing conditions. Having the peace of mind knowing that everything would be covered allowed us to focus on BooBoo and do whatever the doctors recommended and not have the financial strain as a deciding factor in her medical care. Yes, the monthly premium is a lot but insurance is exactly for cases like this. We received 100% reimbursement of over $6500 in vet bills (minus our $100 deductible.)
Topical treatments. Although we are generally holistic, we do apply a monthly topical tick preventative. When I approached the manufacturer about how she could be infected with being on preventative every month, even through the winter, they stated it’s only 97% effective in repelling. So some ticks will get through. I suspect we never found the tick that infected Boo because it bit her and then the Vectra killed it, and the tick fell off before we did our evening check. We still use the topical but now also supplement with an essential oil spray. Also, having proof of purchase of tick preventative was necessary for our insurance claims to be paid 100%.
Have a regular vet. As tempting as it is to bounce around to low cost clinics for vaccines, this reinforced how it’s far more important to have a solid relationship with a regular vet, who sees your pet at least once annually, whether they are sick or not. We have an amazing vet and we trust her implicitly. When ER vets were throwing out all sorts of tests and things they could do, we relied on our regular vet’s advice and knowledge of the history of our dog to help us decide a course of treatment. Our regular vet worked in tandem with the ER staff and the specialists, reviewing all the lab reports and treatment plans. They sent her daily updates and reports. It’s easy to be overwhelmed when your pet is in medical crisis and having a regular vet as an ally helps you make decisions and not feel like the ER vets might be taking advantage of your compromised state.
Have an ER vet. You never want to need to use it, but in an emergency you don’t want to lose precious minutes looking up who your closest ER facility is. Know where they are, know how to get there and have the phone number programmed in your phone so you can call them on your way so they’re ready to take you in for a real emergency. In our case, getting Boo’s temperature down was critical to saving her life and preventing a seizure. The hospital knowing we were on our way gave them advance warning to prepare a room for her so there was no delay when we arrived.
I am forever grateful to the medical team that saved our girl but I know our quick action also played a part. Many dogs do not get diagnosed with RMSF until it is too late to save them – until they are hemorrhaging or some other equally awful symptom appears. It wasn’t her time but it easily could have been if I hadn’t taken her temperature or if the ER vets hadn’t started her on drugs at that moment. There are so many things that could have altered our outcome. Our sweet Boo came to us as a feral dog from Kentucky and is now a certified therapy dog and I like to think the world needed her around for a while longer. I hope that others hearing our RMSF story will bring awareness to tick-borne illnesses and help people notice the symptoms early on to help save lives.
For now, we will keep hiking but checking for nasty ticks often and cuddling as much as possible to enjoy every moment that we have left together.
For more information, please check these RMSF resources
Kate LaSala, CTC is an honors graduate of The Academy for Dog Trainers and owns Rescued By Training in Central NJ. She is also a certified AKC Canine Good Citizen (CGC) Evaluator and trainer for the NJ Chapter of Pets for Vets. She shares her home with her husband John and their two rescue dogs, Mr. Barbo and BooBoo. Kate and BooBoo are a certified therapy dog team, visiting nursing and rehabilitation homes locally. Follow her on Facebook for training tips and helpful information.
Copyright 2016 Kate LaSala
Related Post from Eileen
My dog Clara also had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Here is her story and a video showing her symptoms:
My friend Kelly Viscosi has stepped forward to share how she prepared Dennis, her 9-year-old vizsla, to meet Saya, the new vizsla puppy. But actually, the story starts long before they meet, because Kelly did a ton of very clever preparation with Dennis.
Here are her words.
When we were expecting a puppy last summer, I asked the breeder to send me audio of the puppies crying and whining at their loudest (which happened to be right before breakfast time for them). She video taped it with her smart phone and sent it to me.
First I classically conditioned Dennis to just the sound of the crying puppies. Once I was getting a good positive conditioned emotional response to this, then I set up a stuffed dog in a crate, placing a small, wireless speaker under the stuffed dog. At random times throughout the day, I would play the audio and treats would rain from the sky right in front of the crate with the stuffed puppy.
Before long, Dennis would just choose to park himself in front of the crate, waiting for the “puppy” to cry. From here, I also began putting the stuffed puppy in an ex-pen (also with wireless speaker under stuffed puppy). We repeated the same thing: puppy cries, treats rain down. This worked very well to prepare Dennis, who is sound sensitive AND fearful of dogs outside the family.
When we brought the real puppy home a month later, he was very well prepared for all the extra noise his baby sister made. She would cry/bark, and it sounded just like the stuffed puppy had, because he had been listening to his sister and her littermates for several weeks now. I still tossed treats to Dennis every time his sister cried or whined, and he would park himself a few feet away from the ex-pen, waiting for her to cry so he could get treats.
Yes, he gained some weight during this time, but it was well worth it because he had a positive association and we just reduced his calories a couple months later.
Classical Conditioning Done Well
I just have to editorialize about this, to elaborate a bit on all the things that Kelly did right.
She got a recording of the exact sounds that Dennis would be exposed to.
She used classical conditioning: she played a few seconds of the crying, then rained the treats down. Notice that she did not just leave an audio recording going. She played a short segment and followed it with treats.
She played the noise (and followed it with treats) at random times throughout the day. She made it clear that the noise, and the noise alone, predicted the special treats.
She then made a further association: she made the sound source appear to be the stuffed dog. Even though Dennis doubtless knew that this was not a real dog, it gave a focal point for the sound and a visual that was similar to what he would later see with the real puppy.
She did the “noisy puppy” show in two different locations, the crate and the ex-pen.
She didn’t skimp on the quality of the the treats.
This work she did made a huge difference for Dennis. He could have been miserable from the noise and the new stranger. But with Kelly’s careful preparation, the arrival of the puppy meant enrichment opportunities for him. How cool is that?
But Wait–There’s More!
Here’s some other great training Kelly did before the pup came. She set up a group mat exercise for Dennis, the future puppy, and Trixie, her other senior dog. She used the faithful stuffed dog as a stand-in for the puppy. Again, Dennis surely knew this was not a puppy. But the exercise helped create a routine. He learned that the object on the adjacent mat getting a treat predicted his getting a treat. Learning the routine was another thing that helped him adjust faster to the real dog when she came. (Kelly mentioned that Trixie, the black and tan senior dog, was gregarious and happy with other dogs, so this exercise was just a bonus for her.)
One of my favorite things in life is seeing the imaginative and thoughtful things that people all over the world do to make their dogs’ lives better. I hope Kelly’s work with Dennis plants some seeds of ideas out there for others who are preparing resident dogs for a newcomer.
Care to share? I bet there are some other great stories out there.
This post is not directly about dogs, but it’s about something we see happening in the dog world very frequently. That is the misunderstanding and misapplication of research results. This particular example caught my attention because it involves something I have a bit of expertise in: sound.
In the past few years there has been a rash of articles about how important silence can be in our lives. Many of them center on a campaign by the Finnish Tourist Board that promoted the restful silence of that country. I’ve been there, and it’s true!
The silence thing got my attention. I’m a fan. I’m an auditory person, musically trained. I’m very sensitive to my auditory environment and dislike unnecessary background noise, including music. When I have music, radio, or the television on, I am actively listening. When I’m done they go off. I need and enjoy quiet.
Likewise I am quite attuned to the “background” sounds that are present even when it’s very quiet. I am sitting in my study now. I’m aware of traffic noises, neighborhood dogs, the occasional creak of the house, the furnace and refrigerator when they cycle on, my neighbor’s sump pump, and Clara snoring. She’s got a funny little whistle sound in her nose. Plus I can hear some of the common urban mashup of low frequency noises. There is the 60-cycle hum of power lines and even lower frequencies generated by industrial equipment. Most of us city dwellers are unaware of these lower frequency, deeper noises, although sometimes we notice their absence if we get out “beyond the sidewalks,” especially at night. But even with all that going on, my environment right now definitely qualifies as quiet, if not exactly silent.
Frequency and magnitude breakdown (FFT) of the noise in my study
How different would it feel if **all** that noise were gone?
Silence is Golden?
The articles I ran across praised the value of silence in our lives and cited a scientific study that had “proved” the value of silence.
In the study, the effects of different auditory stimuli were tested on mice with the goal of analyzing whether they affected the creation of new brain cells. The scientists were looking at adult neurogenesis in the hippocampus. They exposed the mice to five different acoustic conditions: the ambient sounds of the facility, white noise, some Mozart piano music (thoughtfully transposed to the normal hearing range of the mice), the calls of rat pups, and silence. Most mice were exposed to one of the auditory stimuli for two hours a day for three days inside an anechoic chamber. After one more day they were killed and their brains were studied. Some mice were exposed for seven days, then killed.
The Mozart music and the silence resulted in the largest increase in precursor cell proliferation after three days of exposure to the sounds. (Precursor cells are new, blank cells that can develop into different kinds of cells. For example, stem cells are one type of precursor cell.) And after seven days of exposure, only silence was associated with increased numbers of precursor cells. Edit 4/3/16: I deleted some incorrect comments I made about the control of the study.
Back to the articles. They claim, and cite this study to support, the idea that periods of quiet, perhaps “down time,” are beneficial to our brains. The articles evoke images of calm contemplation and taking breaks from mental activity. This is a potent meme in our sometimes noisy, frenetic lives.
Such periods probably are beneficial. The problem is that that is not what this study is about. The term “silence” in the study refers to a specific state that is virtually never replicated in normal life. And it was probably not a pleasant state for the experimental mice, despite the article title. Here’s what it really involved.
Walls of anechoic chamber–photo source, Wikimedia Commons
All of the mice experienced the sound exposure inside an anechoic chamber. Anechoic chambers are enclosed spaces in which the amount of reflected sound is reduced almost to zero. They are built of absorptive material installed in patterns designed to break up sound waves. They are also insulated from exterior noise. When there is sound being generated on the inside, as with the recordings used in the experiment, only the original sound wave reaches the organism’s ears. There are no reflections. This is an abnormal situation because in real life there is virtually always some reflection. Any noise would sound “dead.”
This is a highly disturbing auditory situation. Here is an article about the effects on humans in a very well designed anechoic chamber:
Perhaps the mice didn’t hallucinate, as some humans are known to do, but being trapped in an anechoic chamber and exposed to its unique qualities could well have stressed them out of their minds. So we need to get rid of the positive connotations of the word “silence” in the case of this study. This was not restful or calm. It was foreign and strange, something that no animal could be prepared for from previous life experience.
We should note that the mice who were exposed to other auditory stimuli were also placed in the anechoic chamber. There was doubtless also some strangeness for them. But since sound was being played, they would not experience the strangeness of absolute silence.
If you read far enough in the study, there is discussion about silence being a stressful state.
But of the tested paradigms, silence might be the most arousing, because it is highly atypical under wild conditions and must thus be perceived as alerting. Functional imaging studies indicate that trying to hear in silence activates the auditory cortex, putting “the sound of silence”, the absence of expected sound, at the same level with actual sounds. The alert elicited by such unnatural silence might stimulate neurogenesis as preparation for future cognitive challenges.–Kirste, Imke, et al. “Is silence golden? Effects of auditory stimuli and their absence on adult hippocampal neurogenesis.” Brain Structure and Function 220.2 (2015): 1221-1228.
No kidding. In other words, the level of silence was novel and probably uncomfortable and scary. The apparent increase in neurogenesis in the mice’s brains correlated with a time when they were suddenly thrust into an eerily quite, unnatural environment and couldn’t escape. They weren’t in the equivalent of a pleasant, peaceful, mousie yoga studio.
A more accurate title for an article about this study might be, “Being trapped without the possibility of escape in a strange, frightening environment may help generate new brain cells.”
The Big Picture
I am not weighing in on the methods and results of the study. Neither am I arguing against the value of relative quiet in our noisy human lives. I am highlighting the way this study is being incorrectly referenced. The results of the study do not connect with the spin of the articles about it. And we can’t blame it only on the journalists. Note that the scientists themselves prompted this, in part, with the reference to “Silence is golden” in the title. Catchy, but misleading. (Also, to be fair, most of the articles cite other studies as well, studies that may support the claims about restful silence.)
Humans love to take mental shortcuts, and articles about the “value of quiet” are attractive in our noisy, hasty world. They resonate, if I may use another auditory figure of speech. But we need to be careful.
This particular example jumped out at me since I have a background in acoustics. I was curious about how the “silence” was created, and as soon as I saw the mention of an anechoic chamber, I was on the trail. But in this study, you don’t actually have to understand acoustics to see the problem, as long as you read the whole thing. The paragraph I quoted above is one of several in the “Discussion” part of the study where they make observations and theorize about the findings. The fact that the silence was a highly stressful condition is discussed in detail. But you have to read far enough to get there, and to drop your automatic warm fuzzy thoughts about silence and calm states.
I’d love to know whether anyone has been in an anechoic chamber or experienced other sensory deprivation. What was it like? When I was in graduate school we bought the materials to build a chamber and I messed around with the stuff, so I know what even a small exposure to the noise absorptive materials made my ears feel like. Creepy!
**So the joke is on me. In a post about being cautious about the spin of research and articles, I included an article with a questionable claim myself. The article about the anechoic chamber in Minneapolis includes the claim that no one can “survive” longer than 45 minutes in the chamber. Some cursory consideration would indicate that there is no magic difference between 45:00 and 45:01, and that anechoic chambers are not killing machines. Indeed, there is a “myth-busting” type video documenting a man who stayed in the anechoic chamber about an hour with no ill effects. Reader Paul McGee provided a link in the comments. I picked an article that could give people a sense about anechoic chambers, and there’s not much question that they are strange and unpleasant for most people. The 45 minutes thing is a silly claim though.
I’ve reached another milestone in this process. My book is out in paperback!
Remember Me? Loving and Caring for a Dog with Canine Cognitive Dysfunction, by Eileen Anderson
Canine cognitive dysfunction is extremely under-diagnosed, and most of us will eventually have a dog affected by it. In my book you will learn:
the symptoms of CCD and how it differs from normal aging;
how best to help your dog, including safe setups and use of special products;
how to help yourself, both practically and emotionally;
about the difficulties of concurrent diagnoses; and
about making the hardest decision of all if you must.
The book does not offer or take the place of veterinary advice. In fact, I recommend more than 20 times in the book, at every different juncture, that you talk to your vet.
What People Are Saying About Remember Me?
“Meticulously researched, accurate information presented with real empathy.” —Jean Donaldson, author of The Culture Clash, founder of the Academy for Dog Trainers
“Eileen approaches this complex disease with a combination of scientific rigor and deep empathy for the animals and people who suffer from it.”—E’Lise Christensen, board certified veterinary behaviorist
“Personal, easy to read, and full of useful information, Remember Me? is a must-have for everyone living with a dog. Once you have read this book, and I recommend you read it now, you’ll want to keep it accessible as a reference for when you need it most.” —Lori Stevens, CPDT-KA, SAMP, owner, Seattle TTouch
“Two years ago, my Sheltie Skye exhibited unusual behaviours. At first, we thought it was hearing loss. He would go into a deeper sleep mode, and he wouldn’t respond when we called him. I tried hand signals, but things didn’t improve. He would get lost in the house. I’d often find him stranded at the bottom of the stairs. This book helped me to understand how to give Skye back quality of life—how to recognize his good days and how to help him manage the bad ones. One day I will have to make the difficult decision to let Skye go. But it won’t be out of frustration from not knowing how to deal with CCD.” —Dog owner Ruth Wojcik
“My dog Bear and I have been together since I was 13. I’m 26 now. In those years, I have become a training buff, and Bear had until recently been my star pupil. But his behavior this past year had frustrated me to tears. Someone told me about CCD, and recommended a vet appointment and your book. I bought the Kindle edition right away, and started crying when I read about your dog going to the hinged side of the door to be let out. This behavior of Bear’s had puzzled and frustrated me for weeks. It is such a relief knowing there are others out there with the same issues—and that there is help for managing them.” —Dog owner Teegra Miller
For those who prefer other vendors and formats: they are coming. The paperback will be orderable through other bookstores soon, and other digital versions, including Apple iBooks and Barnes and Noble, will be released.
I’m available for radio and print interviews, Skype, and podcasts.
Remember “Lessons for My Puppy,” my collaboration with Marge Rogers? She made some videos that I loved so much that I wrote blog posts to go with them.
Marge is still out there working with dogs and making great videos, and I’m featuring another one today. Although there is a lesson for a puppy in this video, and also a lesson for the adult dog, the biggest lesson here is for puppy owners. (Isn’t that usually the case, when you come to think of it?) In the video she shows how she gradually introduced Tinker, a fox terrier puppy she was boarding, to her own dog, young male Portuguese Water Dog Zip.
How many of you, when adding a new dog to your household, follow the “stick ’em together, stay close by, and pray” method? I have certainly done that in the past, though I don’t recommend it. I was more prudent and conservative by the time I got Clara, but even then, my situation was so unplanned and complex that I basically made digital decisions: this dog can hopefully be with the puppy, and these dogs definitely can’t.
Thanks goodness for Zani!
When Clara came into my household, I kept her permanently separated from Cricket, my small, elderly and frail rat terrier. Clara could easily have knocked over Cricket with her wagging tail alone. I also kept Clara separated from Summer for a good while. Summer has a history of moderate dog aggression and I wasn’t sure she would grant Clara a “puppy license.” But I immediately turned Zani loose with Clara, since Zani is incredibly friendly, likes puppies, and was well matched in size. Zani lived up to my expectations and became Clara’s buddy and babysitter.
But what I didn’t do was any controlled introductions and gradual exposures. If and when I get another puppy, I certainly will do that. All the dogs in a household, both the residents and the newbie, can benefit from good planning and making acquaintance with each other gradually with good associations.
A common and effective method that pro trainers often use when introducing a puppy into their household is classical conditioning of the adult dogs: whenever the puppy is brought into proximity, fabulous food rains down on the adult dog. This can help build pleasant associations and prevent jealousy, since puppies can be obnoxious and can take up a lot of the owner’s time. That method was not necessary in Marge’s case. Her dog Zip is naturally friendly and gregarious and was likely to enjoy the pup; he just needed some time to calm down and learn to be gentle.
This is not really a how-to post. All of our individual situations are different, and it would take much more than a standard-size blog post to cover even the basics of doing introductions.
What I want people to see is the visual of the dog and the pup getting to know each other safely and gradually, through a barrier and with good associations.
Tinker play bowing to a wagging Zip
One of the things I love most about Marge’s approach is that she didn’t have any sort of time schedule mapped out for “releasing” Zip and Tinker to play together. In fact, it would be great if we could even stop thinking about it in those terms. At the time the video was filmed, the puppy Tinker was a baby, and at an age where a scary experience could potentially have negative residual effects for the rest of her life. Zip, although a friendly dog as Marge points out, had zero experience playing with a puppy now that he was a (very) young adult. He was much larger than Tinker and had a history of exuberant play with dogs around his size (i.e., not tiny and breakable) as a youngster. So before even considering putting them together, Marge had to be sure of two things: Tinker wasn’t scared of Zip, and Zip wouldn’t be too rough for Tinker.
I love the visuals in this movie. It’s something that we rarely see, and it is so incredibly valuable. You can watch as Tinker gets acclimated to Zip with the fence of the exercise pen between them. Marge reinforced Zip for being calm in Tinker’s presence, and built good associations with Tinker for being near Zip. After a few days, Marge allowed them together, but kept Zip on leash as a safety precaution. Tinker was comfortable enough to climb on him!
Tinker was there for a week. If she and Zip hadn’t indicated that they were getting comfortable with each other, Marge would simply have kept them separated, using the ex-pen and other means. And if Tinker had indicated that even the ex-pen barrier put Zip too close for comfort, Marge would have kept them separated even further. The paramount concern with a puppy this age is providing positive experiences.
When Not To Do The Ex-Pen Setup
Putting the two dogs adjacent with a fence in between was a good method for this friendly adult dog and confident puppy. But there are many situations in which it would not be appropriate. Here are three of them.
If you have a grumpy, snarly mature dog, the last thing in the world you want to do is park him next to a puppy with only a wire fence between them.
You also wouldn’t do this if you had a large breed, exuberant puppy (who would enjoy bouncing on that fence) and a tiny, fearful, or frail adult.
And you wouldn’t do it with any two stranger dogs unsupervised, no matter how well they were apparently matched.
But take a look at how well it worked out for Zip and Tinker.
Whatever method you use to integrate a new dog into your household, patience and barriers are your friends. Even if you are a gregarious person, you probably don’t want to spend 24/7 with an acquaintance you met yesterday. Most dogs probably don’t either. Take the introductions slow and easy. For instance, I didn’t let my dog Summer interact directly with the new puppy Clara until Clara was about 5 or 6 months old. That was more than 2 months. Some people wait a lot longer than that, depending on the situation.
If I had it to do over, I would probably do some classical conditioning with Summer: associate the appearance of the puppy with great food falling from the sky. I didn’t have it together to do that at the time. But when I did finally let them into the same space, I supervised closely and kept the sessions short. Summer in particular needs her “down time” so I made sure she had it. Clara needed to learn, without getting hurt, that Summer would probably never want to play with her and that it was not wise to pester her.
Back to Marge and Zip. As it happened, Zip never did get to play with Tinker off-leash during that week. He was too clumsy and goofy (did you see the paw to her head?). He did learn a lot though, including a softer approach and play style. Marge may have an “uncle dog” in the making! (That’s a term for a good-natured male dog who is good with puppies and good in general at putting other dogs at ease.) But she knew better than to rush things. This is another situation where “slow is fast” though. Zip earned off-leash time in two days with the next puppy who came to visit!
Being gentle with a puppy is not something a human can directly teach a dog, but Marge facilitated it with carefully controlled exposures and lots of breaks in the play. I know she is counting her blessings that between her efforts and the fact that Zip is friendly and socially savvy, he is learning gentleness through direct experience with the puppies themselves.
The “yelling” question comes up regularly for positive reinforcement-based trainers. “Am I a bad person if I yell at my dogs?” “Is it positive punishment to yell at my dogs?” And the accusatory version, “Do you NEVER yell at your dogs? Of course you do! And that’s punishment, so you aren’t a ‘positive’ trainer after all. Gotcha!”
Rather unbelievably, I’m not going to go into a quadrants discussion here. Wow. But check out “Only if the Behavior Decreases” if you want to address the question of whether yelling can be punishment.
Instead, I’d like to talk about what I do regarding yelling.
Don’t they look pathetic? Did I yell at them? See the bottom of the post for what this photo is really about.
I’m human. Even if I don’t intend to, sometimes I yell. I won’t argue that I can’t help it, but it would be very hard to change the behavior of yelling as a response to being startled. And it is a functional response, so one that I might not want to try to get rid of (as difficult as that would be).
I have certainly done the “startled yell” at my dogs. If a dog is sitting right next to me and suddenly leaps up and barks in my ear, I am going to be startled and likely yell. Likewise, if I am tired and strung out (trigger stacking) and one of them does something that provokes me, let’s just say that I may not speak in my nicest voice.
Knowing that about myself, I took a simple action.
The word that generally comes out of my mouth when I’m startled is, “Hey!” Given that, when any new dog comes into the household I classically condition that word to predict great things. I pair my saying the word with a great treat. And I start off in a conversational tone that won’t startle the dog at all. I talk about this in more detail in “Only if the Behavior Decreases.”
Once the dog is learning that my saying “Hey!” predicts a treat, I raise the volume gradually, then raise the stress in my voice. The end result is that I can yell, “Hey!” in the meanest voice I can muster and my dogs turn to me or come running happily.
I do the same thing with each dog’s name. I say it in all different tones of voice, pairing it with something great.
I’m not a big yeller, but conditioning “Hey!” and the dog’s name seems to spread nicely to other things I might yell as well.
Thorough readers of my blog will have noticed by now that I have classically conditioned a fair number of things.
All of these things started off as pure classical conditioning, but, as is typical, the operant behaviors started piling on and getting reinforced. And they are good behaviors! Reorienting to me, even running to me when the event happens if the dog is a distance away. All these things that are classically conditioned potentially turn into recall cues/positive interrupters.
But we always need to think these things through. All these recall cues presuppose that the triggers will happen in situations where it is both desirable and safe for my dogs to come running to me. Frankly I am rarely in situations where that would not be safe. Areas where my dogs might be off leash, however large, are generally enclosed or not in a busy area. However, there’s always that horrifying possibility that my dog might get loose and see me from across a busy street or a similar hazard. That’s the one type of situation when I don’t want my dog to come running to me. For that reason, I also teach my dogs a distance down by hand signal and vocal cue. It means to drop right where they are.
Lots of people defend yelling at their dogs in a disciplinary way. They feel they need their dogs’ respect or need to convey to their dogs that what they are doing at times is “unacceptable.” But we need to be honest. If those methods reliably work to interrupt and lessen (punish) behavior, it’s because there is a threat. Yelling by itself, beyond the startle effect, is not that potent of a punisher to an adult dog. That’s why people who yell in an attempt to interrupt or change their dogs’ behavior tend to keep yelling and yelling.
What dog wants to come to someone who is mad and grumbly, or worse, likely to hurt them? What you typically get from “disciplinary” yelling is ambivalent behavior. If you call them when angry they may come, but they will likely come creeping, or perhaps even grovel in place. (How many YouTube videos have we seen of that?)
How much better is it to have an interrupter that dogs respond to with delight? I’ll take the positive interrupter and the dog’s joyful reorienting anytime. Plus if I am actually mad, it gives me a moment to get ahold of myself as they run to me eagerly. And it’s pretty hard to stay mad at those happy little faces. (Here is Emily Larlham’s tutorial on teaching a positive interrupter.)
If we let go of the idea of trying to prove to our dogs that they are being “bad” and look at how to interrupt the behavior, a positive interrupter is a great way to go.
Want to see what happens when I yell, “Hey!” at my dogs?
But won’t interrupting my dogs when they are doing an undesired behavior, then giving them a treat, indirectly reward those behaviors they are performing when interrupted? Won’t I get more obnoxious behavior? If that were the only time I reinforced my dogs’ behavior, I might have something to worry about. But my dogs earn reinforcers all day long doing things I like. And I catch them being good far more than I interrupt them doing stuff I don’t like. The Matching Law is on my side. I’m not going to have a huge upsurge of barking in my ear or fence running or bullying another dog. My dogs can get my attention and earn a treat a lot more easily than that!
I can truly say that yelling is not a punishment, or even particularly unpleasant, for my dogs. If you condition yelling, it can be just another strange noise in their life that predicts good things.
Explanation of the Photo Above
Here’s the unedited original. I hadn’t yelled. I had given them broccoli, and they were extremely disappointed. I’m so mean!
Thanks to Debbie Jacobs and Randi Rossman for their input on this topic. Any weird conclusions are mine alone.
I have come to believe that most of us who thought we were using “choice” as a reinforcer were mistaken.
Wait! Before you come running after me with pitchforks, let me explain. I’m not saying that choice isn’t a wonderful, enriching, and humane thing to provide for our dogs. It can be all that! Rather, I’m concerned about the trend of glomming onto attractive-sounding language without proper analysis of what is actually happening. The problems attending that go a lot further than nomenclature. They can affect the quality of our dogs’ lives.
Choice as a Reinforcer
I’ve written before about misunderstandings regarding choice, but this is the biggest misunderstanding of all. When we say that choice can be reinforcing we may be technically correct, according to some studies, but we are probably not using it that way ourselves. Let’s analyze it.
Zani keeping her options open
Let’s say I give my dog Zani the choice of coming indoors or not. There are nice things to do both indoors and outdoors in her opinion, so the choice is between two R+ scenarios. (I actually do have a real-life cue that has come to signal a choice about that. More on that in a future post!)
Antecedent: I stand at the door and ask Zani if she wants to come in
Behavior: Zani trots inside
Consequence: Low value treat
Prediction: Behavior of coming inside when given that option will maintain or increase
Where was the choice in this description/analysis?
Let’s say she chooses the other option.
Antecedent: I stand at the door and ask Zani if she wants to come in
Behavior: Zani ignores me and eats grass
Prediction: Behavior of staying outside when given that option will maintain or increase
Where was the choice in this description/analysis?
How about this one? Context: I always let my dogs walk away from a toenail trimming session whenever they want.
Antecedent: Clara sees paraphernalia for a toenail trim: clippers, treats
Behavior: Clara leaves the room
Consequence: Clara escapes the stress of a nail trim
Prediction: Leaving nail trim when stressed will increase
Where was the choice?
The choice was between behaviors and it was offered in the antecedent.
In all of the scenarios above, and almost anytime we are talking about “offering” the dog a choice, giving the choice is part of the antecedent, not the consequence. We set up the environment (antecedent) so there is more than one possible, hopefully pleasant activity (behavior). The consequence is the reinforcer for the chosen behavior. In the above scenarios the reinforcers were a low value treat, grass, and escape.
This kind of choice can’t be a reinforcer, at least not of the behavior we are analyzing. And a reminder: as I mentioned in a previous post, the animal always has a choice about their behavior, whether we want it to be there or not. As we train a behavior to fluency and consistency, we are actually trying to prevent the possibility of the animal making other choices.
So Let’s Try It As a Reinforcer
OK, perhaps I have convinced you that the choices we offer are usually in the antecedent. “Would you like to do this, or this?” So instead, can we create a different scenario where the dog needs to perform one particular behavior correctly but then has a choice of two different reinforcers? That scenario at least has the potential of the choice being part of the consequence.
Two possible (simplified) scenarios for choice-making for our companion animals
Here is how I would go about that. Let’s say I’m going to ask my dog Clara to perform a sit. A couple of feet away from her I have her red rubber ball and a favorite toy, with a little space between them.
Antecedent: I cue a sit
Behavior: Clara sits
Consequence: Whichever thing Clara grabs after I mark the sit: ball or toy
What role would the choice after the behavior perform? In this case, I believe very little. The ball and the toy would each have a much stronger and more direct effect than the fact that the dog got to choose. The choice aspect would likely be overwhelmed.
When scientists study choice as a reinforcer, they have to go to great lengths to separate its influence from the obvious reinforcer of the animal’s behavior–the thing the animal chooses. They have done it, including in a series of studies I described in another post on choice. Even if we agree that choice itself had a reinforcing effect (and not all scientists do agree), the work they had to perform to isolate it means it just is not going to get isolated often in the real world.
So can we separate out a possible effect of the choice part from these strong reinforcers? We could try. We could keep excellent records. In some trials, there would be only the ball. In others, there would be the ball and the toy (the choice scenario), but she only gets one. (We would also have to watch out for possible punishing effects of removing one item–most dogs would want both!) If Clara’s sit-on-cue response percentage was higher when both items were present, no matter which item she chose, we could claim that “having a choice” was a reinforcer. Not the only reinforcer or the strongest, but one with a possibly traceable effect. But in a home scenario it is almost impossible to control for all possible reinforcers and other competing stimuli that could make the scenarios non-identical. I think even in the best attempt at a clean experiment, we probably wouldn’t be able to say that we demonstrated at home that choice was a reinforcer.
I’m starting to flinch a little bit when people talk about choice being a reinforcer. When it comes to their animals, how do they know?
The “Choice” Challenge
So here is the challenge. If you have been trying to use “choice” as a reinforcer, try these questions on for size.
What behavior was reinforced by offering a choice? Remember, the choice has to come after the behavior for choice to be in the running as a reinforcer.
What other reinforcers were involved? (What was the dog choosing between?)
How did you separate the effect of the choice from the effect of the reinforcer the dog chose?
How did you track the data of the choice/non-choice situations? How substantial was the effect of choice?
How did you allow for the possible aversive effects of removing an option when the dog chose the other item or activity?
So maybe you aren’t using choice as a reinforcer. If, instead, you are giving your dogs lots of choices between behaviors, great! That’s wonderful. But that’s different from asking for a behavior and using choice as a theoretical part of the reinforcer.
Why Am I Being So Picky?
We all agree that offering our animals choices and freedom and the ability to exert their preferences are good, humane things. So why do I keep nitpicking about the language we use? It’s because when we focus on choice, we may turn our attention away from what is actually driving the animal’s behavior. If I congratulate myself on how my dog is free to leave a husbandry session whenever she wants, I may neglect to notice that 1) I could be taking steps to make the session less stressful so she wouldn’t feel it necessary to leave; and 2) she is repeatedly practicing escape behavior–and practice makes perfect. I would far rather my dog take actual enjoyment from getting her nails trimmed and want to be there in the first place. I bet she would too. The ability to leave when she wants is essential, but is a sad, paltry, negative reinforcer compared to enjoying the activity in the first place. If it happens a lot, it’s an indicator that I should rethink my approach.
Even when the choice is between two positive reinforcers, it can be unfortunate to over-focus on “choice” rather than the reinforcers themselves. For instance, I can pat myself on the back for giving my dogs the choice to be inside the house or out in the back yard, both of which have reinforcers available. Yay, choice! But I can tell you right now that any of my dogs would rather go on a walk down to the corner of my street where the pee-mail is so fine. On that walk our actions would be structured and the dog would be on a leash. Leashes are usually choice limiters. The dogs would be far less free to choose on the walk down my street than they are when they are in my back yard. But the sniff-fest that would be available when we got to the corner (not to mention the one on the way) is so hugely interesting that it would dwarf most “choices” they have in the back yard. In this case the “less choice” situation would have richer reinforcement than the “more choice” situation.
Finally, the exploration of choice leads us into constructs. We can get focused on teaching our dogs a special way to say yes or no, for example. That can be a cool thing to teach, but I think there’s something more important for us to learn. Our dogs are telling us “yes” and “no” in their own ways all the time. We just need to pay attention. Requiring the dogs to learn our language, to say things the way we want them to, may even reduce choice if it means we pay less attention to what they say in their own ways. It means we have put the onus on them to learn our language rather than the other way around.
Anybody up for the choice challenge? Can you separate out reinforcing effects of choice on a behavior?
Zani and I succeeded quickly with the “cross your paws” trick
I decided a while back to teach my dogs to cross their paws as a trick. I followed the instructions on one of Emily Larlham’s excellent videos: Dog Tricks Tutorial: Cross Your Paws. But I didn’t end up making the neat, quick progression shown in the movie when I tried it with my dog Summer.
I think that besides my rather clumsy training, it is just not a very natural behavior for her. I used a target, and when I finally got the behavior (sometimes), it took a long time before she would repeat it consistently. That’s very unlike most other training experiences I’ve had with her. That created a vicious circle, since one of my weaknesses as a trainer is that I am slow to raise criteria. So between the two of us we stayed at interim behaviors way too long.
One of our problems was that she kept creeping forward. Emily’s dogs stay tidily in their down position and daintily move only their paws. (And actually, so did my Zani, to whom I taught this behavior much more quickly). But Summer was perennially creeping forward or hurling herself after her moving paw and heaving sideways.
Another favorite of hers was to correctly cross her paw over, then instantly remove the bottom paw and scoot one body width to the side. I reinforced that one way too much as well. My reasoning: Well, she is crossing her paw!
I’ve said before that I had an epiphany about my dogs’ behaviors being a “map of reinforcement.” These outtakes show that in a microcosm. All these behaviors that Summer covers–and she is really good at variety–have gotten reinforced somewhere and somehow. You will see her target various parts of my body: my hand, foot, and leg. That’s because at some point I decided that if she was using the correct paw and reaching over the other one, it was OK if she targeted me a couple of times instead of the little coaster I was using. BIG mistake on my part. You’ll also see her enthusiastically whack with the wrong foot (that was not recently reinforced, but certainly has been before), and do a lot of general foot movement. You’ll even see her “give up” and put her head down on her paws. But as despondent as that looks, that’s actually an offered behavior as well.
All the outtakes make for an amusing video (except that being targeted with extended nails hurts) but there’s a lesson here. If you don’t raise criteria fast enough and instead reinforce all these approximation behaviors too often, this is the kind of thing you get. I’m working on a couple posts about the Matching Law, but suffice it to say at this point that dwelling on intermediate steps and reinforcing approximate behaviors a lot means those behaviors are going to stick around. It will take that much longer to clean them out of the final behavior.
This video doesn’t show me reinforcing Summer. That’s because I edited together a bunch of “mistakes” that I had finally stopped reinforcing. But don’t worry. My rate of reinforcement was generally very high. And when you think about it, that makes sense. It was high, and directed inappropriately a lot of the time. She wouldn’t be trying all this stuff otherwise.
I have tons of footage of her doing it right and getting food reinforcers. But it made for a more entertaining video when I included only the bloopers.
If you use a target for this behavior, it may be hard to fade. The dog is concentrating on hitting the target; the tactile sensation of crossing the paws (which is really what we want) is overshadowed. My friend Yvette Van Veen of Awesome Dogs suggests using a lightweight target (like a piece of paper) and actually putting it on the dog’s paw (the one that will end up on the bottom). Clever!
What about the rest of you who trained this trick? What method did you use? How did the progression go?