6 Common Dog Training Errors

oops written on a yellow road traffic sign. There are so many dog training error s to fix!

Some of my most popular posts are about common training errors. It seems that I have an infinite supply, and I’m willing to use myself as a naughty example. New errors keep popping into my consciousness (and my training) all the time.

In this post I’m going to focus on two main categories of errors: problems with criteria, and problems with food handling. Can you identify with any of these?

Criteria Training Errors

  • For Marge Rogers, it wasn't hard to teach Rounder the concept of sitting pretty. But building up that core strength took careful work!

    For Marge Rogers, it wasn’t hard to teach Rounder the concept of sitting pretty. But building up that core strength took careful work!

    Raising criteria too quickly. I’ve talked about lumping a fair amount in this blog. Lumping can happen when you are trying to teach a dog a skill gradually, usually in successive approximations. When you lump, instead of building the skill gradually, you skip ahead and leave the dog back in the dust somewhere. You take too big a leap. It is super easy to do. Remember, we have the steps outlined in our heads, but the dogs don’t. But there’s another way to lump as well. Perhaps you have split the task up into appropriate slices, and the dog guesses them correctly, but you simply go too fast for the dog to learn the appropriate physical skills. One example of this is when your dog is learning something involves strength or dexterity. We often say that we are not really teaching behaviors; the dogs already know how to do them. Most dogs can already sit and lie down; when we talk about “training” those it means, with a few exceptions, that we are teaching them to do them when we ask them to. However, sometimes we really do teach skills. For instance, some of my service dog trainer friends teach their dogs a special retrieve using their front teeth to pick up tiny, delicate items. Picking up a credit card that is flat on the floor or an earring that has sunk into the carpet are not just behaviors, they are skills.  There is safety involved for the dog and the item and a ton of dexterity required. Such things need many repetitions. Even if the next step in the process is easy to make obvious to the dog, the dog needs experience at the current level before continuing. As a more common example, any behaviors that involve strength training need this kind of care as well.

  • Raising criteria too slowly. I hate to tell you this, but raising criteria too slowly can be as much of a problem as raising them too quickly. You would think you could solve the problems of lumping by splitting all tasks into tiny sections and taking your time and doing lots and lots of reps. Wouldn’t that be great? Unfortunately, the Matching Law can bite you in the butt if you do that. If you build up a huge reinforcement history for approximations or incomplete behaviors they will stick around. Check out my post on what it took to rehab Summer’s target behavior after I had reinforced all sorts of half-hearted versions. And from Dr. Jennifer Cattet’s excellent article on the Matching Law:

    “While shaping, the longer we stay on intermediate behaviors, the more we strengthen those behaviors over the target behavior. If we try to get each step perfectly before moving to the next one, instead of moving on quickly, we make all those steps stronger and therefore more likely to be repeated. We often believe that shaping a behavior ultimately makes it stronger. If we apply matching law however, this simply doesn’t hold true. In shaping, it can take 20-40 clicks (or more) to get the target behavior. During the training session, we’re likely to have clicked the dog more often for intermediate behaviors than for the target behavior.”

    I think it stinks that even being slow and careful and taking our time can have a down side, but there we have it.

  • Not holding to criteria. It really isn’t fair that there should be so many problems with criteria. But here’s the final one for today. Let’s say you’ve trained up a nice behavior. Your dog has the physical skills and the understanding. But life intervenes and you let your criteria for the behavior loosen up. Since many of the things we ask dogs to do are counter to their natural behaviors (that’s why we are training them in the first place), the dogs will be more than happy to lapse back.  Every time you are in a hurry and let your dogs skip the sit at the back door before going out; every time you don’t wait for your dog to be seated politely before putting down his dinner; every time you let your dog pull you to the car, even though you practice loose leash walking in your front yard all the time–guess what you are doing? Shooting yourself in the foot, that’s what. You are not holding to criteria, and you are letting your dog get bootleg reinforcement for the very behavior that you have worked and worked to modify.

Food Delivery Training Errors

Here are just a few of the common mistakes we can make with food.

  • Starting your food delivery before marking the behavior; i.e., treating before clicking.  I write a fair amount about cues, and try to pay attention to what the real cues for my dogs’ behaviors are.  I have written about that in several posts including this one: 16 Behavioral Cues I Didn’t Train (But Are Still for Real). But guess what? Sometimes our markers are not what we think they are either. If you use a clicker, a spoken word, or a mouth click as a marker, you can have very good timing but still introduce an error of mechanics if you start to move your food delivery hand before or at the same time you click. Do that enough times, and your marker becomes your hand moving toward the pocket or treat bag rather than the sound you intended. Just think: it is utterly consistent. It’s got a 1 to 1 correspondence with food appearing. So watch out!  This is an example of overshadowing. (Yvette Van Veen recently wrote a great article (Part 1 of 2, I believe) about that.)  Now, a clicker in particular is a unique enough sound that it would probably be difficult to completely overshadow. It’s still understandable as a marker. So what’s the harm? Clicker, hand movement–both predict food, right? One problem is timing. If your timing with the clicker is perfect but the dog is paying attention to the visual of your hand movement, he is not getting the clear signal that you think you are sending. What if sometimes you move your hand after the click, sometimes at the same time, sometimes even before? Who knows what you are actually marking with your hand movement? Even worse, if hand movement towards the food becomes the marker/bridging stimulus–well, you’d better not do it casually, right? We take great pains not to click without treating. We want the click to be a trustworthy predictor of a reinforcer. But if the real marker is the hand movement, we are probably marking things all the time without even knowing it. I know that sometimes when working without a marker (or so I intend) I reach for my food and change my mind. That can be frustrating and confusing to the dog.
  • Always keeping food in the same spot on your person. Dogs know when we have food and when we don’t. If you load up your left front pocket like I do when you get ready for a training session or strap on your treat pouch, the dog says, “Yay! We are going to train and I can win some tasty food.” So what about the rest of the time when you need your dog to do something? Have you set things up so that the presence of food in that pocket or pouch is part of the antecedent for the behaviors you ask for? If so, then having no food present means the cue for the behavior is not complete. It’s not that the dog is lazy or being tricky. You have built a pattern that predicts reinforcement, and then you have broken the pattern. Luckily there is a straightforward way to fix it. Instead of delivering from your pocket or treat pouch, deliver from other random places. Deliver from a covered container that is sitting on your bookshelf. Or another by your back door. Or something that you have secreted in the back yard. Now, don’t go around filling up the containers just before your training session. The point is that they are there all the time and fade into the background. Your dog learns that you can give her something great even when you have not a speck of food on your person. Sue Ailsby builds the process of gradually teaching the dog that the food can come from anywhere into her Training Levels if you want to see it spelled out. Most pro trainers can coach you on making the transition as well. Just don’t go cold turkey! It needs to be gradual, since we are often adding a delay between the behavior and the reinforcer. That has to be done carefully or the relationship between the two will break.
  • A brown dog is sitting attentively in front of a woman wearing bluejeans, a blue tee shirt, and a hat. the dog is staring at the woman's left hand as she reaches into her pocket. Letting staring at the food get reinforced is a training error.

    My reaching for my left pocket is an excellent predictor of reinforcement. See how Summer is even sitting a little crooked to get a better view?

    Reinforcing the dog for looking at the food. I have created one very intent food-staring dog, and a couple of others with a fairly strong habit. If you use a marker, what happens immediately after you mark? Usually the dog orients toward the food. So think about it: that food-looking behavior is getting ultra reinforced by immediately preceding the primary reinforcer. So isn’t it natural that this behavior would bleed into other parts of the training session? In the past I have worked on a process to decouple Summer’s eyes from my pocket. Here’s my movie about that: Default Eye Contact Before Cues. Unfortunately I have not been consistent. But my efforts have paid off somewhat. My friend Marge Rogers solves this problem by building eye contact from the dog into every possible behavior. It works beautifully if you have the self-discipline to do it. And that brings us back to criteria, doesn’t it?

A Philosophy of Errors

I write about my mistakes because I’m in a unique position to do that, being a behavior nerd and training aficionado but not a pro trainer. I get lots of feedback from people saying that they learn a lot from those posts and enjoy them. I just want to add here, though, that while it’s human to be inconsistent, it is not great from the dog’s point of view. We should be honest, even forgiving about our own errors, but we don’t need to get too comfortable with them. Even if we don’t punish the dog for errors that we bring about ourselves, being inconsistent about what behaviors are being reinforced does bring behavioral extinction into the picture, which is known to be frustrating.

So you can look for some future posts from me where I will perform some training problem solving, and one criterion of the challenge will be how to maintain my own  changed behavior. Because to change our dogs’ behavior, we have to change our own. That’s how it works, and it’s only fair.

Which of these errors, if any, are familiar to you?

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Copyright 2016 Eileen Anderson

Photo of Rounder the buff ridgeback courtesy of Marge Rogers of Rewarded Behavior Continues. Love and miss you, sweet boy.

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A Gift from My Mother and the Pillbugs

Marilyn and Cricket

My mother Marilyn and Cricket in 2009

My mother had Alzheimer’s. She passed away in 2012.

I was a loved and indulged child and my mother and I were very close. I had the usual adolescent fallings out, and a rather less usual falling out when I was an adult, and I didn’t see her for many years. When we were reunited, I believe she was already losing some cognition due to dementia, but we felt like family again, and remained so until the end of her life, even though quite early in the illness she stopped being able to remember my name or call me her daughter. Those things didn’t matter. We were completely comfortable with each other and could laugh and enjoy things the same way we had earlier in our lives.

Pomegranates

When she still had enough cognitive ability to send me things in the mail, my mother would send me California pomegranates in the fall. She sometimes bought them and some she picked herself off a bush in her neighborhood. She knew they were one of my very favorite things.

When I was a kid, our next-door neighbors had a giant pomegranate bush. I got spoiled. There were more pomegranates than any five families could eat and I had carte blanche to forage as often as I liked. They were giant, got perfectly ripe and split open, and my best friend and I spent many happy hours eating pomegranate seeds (outdoors, because of the mess) until our hands and faces were magenta with the juice.

As an adult, no longer living in California, I have been very disappointed in the pomegranates that make it to the stores here. They are rarely ripe.

But back in about 2005, I accidentally grew a pomegranate bush. And some years later, I actually got a pomegranate off of it. Here is the story of my pomegranate bush. It starts with a hot pepper plant.

The Chiltepin

Chiltepin_Cluster

Beautiful chiltepin peppers Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons

In the mid 1990s, in what I would call the early days of the Internet, I belonged to an email discussion group called Chile-Heads. It was for gardeners and cooks: anyone who enjoyed growing and cooking with hot peppers. From time to time people would offer seeds, and one year I got some from a guy in Corpus Christi, Texas. As I recall I traded some seeds from some extra tasty chile anchos I had grown. He called his peppers “petins” and I believe they were a variant of the chiltepin. The peppers are very small and round and are quite hot. I came to love those plants and would grow a couple every year. (They are perennials in parts of Texas, but the winters are too cold where I live.)

One year the bush had gotten so magnificent that I decided to try to overwinter it. I dug it up in mid-autumn, before a freeze could get it, and put it in the biggest pot I could manage to tote around. It lived in my guest room for the winter. I successfully did this several years in a row with the same plant, which started looking like a little tree. I would plant it in the garden again every summer.

I know I was doing this as far back as 1998, because when my sister came to visit that year I remember her mentioning how much she enjoyed staying in the guest room with the giant friendly pepper bush.

Then This Happened

Here’s how I described, in a letter to my mother, the next thing that happened.

10/7/07

I grew a pomegranate bush by accident. I had this enormous chile pepper plant called a petin that I would pot up in a huge pot and bring in the house every winter. Along with the garden soil would come some pillbugs. They live on rotting matter, and over the course of the winter, living in a potted plant, they would run out of stuff to eat. I would see them patrolling round and round the edge of the pot in the morning, seeming rather desperate. So I started to feed them. (I have always liked pillbugs, and I certainly don’t want to see any wildlife starve because I have interfered in their lives.) I would give them peelings and old stuff from the refrigerator. They were thrilled and would chomp it all up as soon as it got a little old.

Once I let one of the pomegranates you sent me go partly bad, so I put the fermented seeds in the pot for the pillbugs. They dutifully ate the pulp. I wonder if they got tipsy? But they left the actual seeds, and some little volunteer pomegranate plants appeared in the pot with the pepper plant. I took care of one of the plants and finally planted it out. The picture shows how big it was last year. It’s lots bigger now. They are not technically supposed to survive here because of the hard freezes in winter. But it has survived 2 or 3 winters so I guess it is going to make it OK.

I miss getting pomegranates from you. It’s hard to get ripe ones here. But my bush had several blossoms this year and I am hoping for some fruit next year.

So that dates my pomegranate bush back to 2004 or 2005. It is now 11 or 12 years old.

I should mention that I love pillbugs. They are also known as sowbugs, wood lice, armadillo bugs, and roly polys. Did you know that they are not insects, but crustaceans? I think they are fascinating. They look cool, don’t hurt anybody, and they clean up the trash. Here’s a photo of some in my garden. I’m not embedding because I imagine they are gross to some people. Not me!

I never knew whether to expect fruit from the bush. I didn’t even know if it would be fertile. If the seed had been from a grocery store fruit, it could have been some sort of hybrid. Gardeners hope for everything though, so it was always in the back of my mind. As I said in the letter to my mom, I got some blooms early on, but nothing came of them. This happened for 8 years or so, and I had given up hope. But in 2013, when I was idly looking at the bush with an eye to trimming it, I found two baby pomegranates on it! I went ahead and trimmed the bush and idiotically managed to trim off one of the branches with a pomegranate. Aaaaaagh!

But one survived, and come November, it was one of the best things I ever ate.

Pomegranate

My one prize pomegranate

Inspiration and Failure

Naturally, being a gardener, I decided to read up on pomegranates again and maximize my chances of getting fruit the next year. I pruned when it said to. I fed what it said to, when it said to. And I got NO blooms on the plant in 2014. Zero, nada. I was very ticked off. I didn’t pamper it the next year and again, got no blooms. It even entered my mind to take out the bush. It’s not all that handsome. But I didn’t really entertain that thought seriously. How could I, with its connection to my mom? There’s even that mother/daughter thing in mythology with Persephone and the pomegranate seeds. So of course I kept the bush.

This Year

So now it’s 2016 and I have taken a few sideways glances at the bush throughout the spring. Nothing doing. I have thought frustrated, slightly wicked thoughts about the pomegranate bush. I’m still miffed that it tantalized me that one year.

Then, two days ago, I saw two blooms opening! I took a good look and counted about 10 more, but some could be male blooms only. The male blooms pollinate, but don’t fruit. So now I am checking every day and cross pollinating the hermaphroditic blooms (yes, that’s really the term) by hand as they open. (A friend of mine used to call that having sex with her plants.)

I have big plans for my 5 – 10 pomegranates this year. I shall baby those fruit and build them little slings and do whatever it takes to keep them safe. If I harvest some fruit, I’ll do as my sister suggests and share some seeds with the pillbug colony. It’s only fair.

But even if I get no fruit, the bush will stay, of course. My mom sent me the seeds. And the pillbugs helped them grow.

pomegranate blossom hermaphrodite pollen

Blossom from my pomegranate bush

Copyright Eileen Anderson 2016

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Fear, Predation, and Resource Guarding

IMG_2452

A couple of weeks ago I published a post: “Body Language Study: Fear and What Else?”. It featured the short video clip embedded below. (You can watch the video now if you didn’t already.) In the post I solicited comments about Summer’s behavior. I noted that I saw fear and caution and something else, and asked folks what all they saw.

Link to the video for email subscribers.

I got a great response, with people seeing both the stuff I was angling for, and also a whole other category of behavior that I had not noticed.

Predation

What I saw but didn’t mention, and was trying to find out whether others saw it, was predation. Plenty of other people did.  Deena Lavine, Melinda Schneider, Meghan Smith,  and Susan Hatzen all mentioned prey drive in the comments, and others did on Facebook.

I wasn’t sure how obvious it would be to those who haven’t seen Summer’s behavior over time. She is a serious predator. And she has a special interest in reptiles, including turtles, toads, and snakes.

What was notable to me in the interaction in the video was that she kept re-approaching the area where the reptile was. Fear often results in distance-increasing or escape behavior. This is often flight, although a cornered animal will sometimes freeze or attack a threat in self-preservation. (Dr. Susan Friedman classifies this type of attack as escape behavior as well, because the goal is to remove the threat.) In the clip, Summer was obviously nervous about the lizard that she sensed in the hose reel area, but she was also exhibiting distance-decreasing behavior repeatedly. She had ample opportunity to get away from the reptile. Instead, she returned again and again.

I noted the most basic of analyses: she kept moving her body, carefully, back towards the hose reel and what was hiding inside it. Then she would jump back when she thought the “thing” might be interested in having a go at her.

Slender_Glass_Lizard_(Ophisaurus_attenuatus)

Slender glass lizard

I think she thought the lizard was a snake. It certainly looked like one–glass lizards have no legs. Perhaps it smelled like one too, because before she ever seemed to get a good look at it, she was exhibiting the same behavior she does when she thinks there is a snake present.

I have witnessed it plenty of times before. When she thinks there is a snake in the grass, she will approach with great care, ready to jump backwards at a second’s notice. She obviously learned the hard way that snakes strike, but with snakes as well she still keeps returning. When she used to go to doggie day care, they told me that she had cornered a large snake once. I have never seen her do that at home and would actively intervene if I did.  But I have seen that cautious approach when she thinks there is something hidden in the grass. She does something similar with stinging insects, which she also has a hard time leaving alone. She really wants to kill them, though she has been stung in the attempt before.

Some viewers mentioned that Summer was curious, and I absolutely agree with that. But I’ll go a step further, both from her behavior and what I know of her history. She wanted to investigate and kill the lizard.

If you’d like to see Summer’s reptile obsession, check out the video “Summer and the Turtle,” where she tries to bite and claw her way through a chain length fence to get a terrapin on the other side.  Or this blog post: Summer’s Turtle Diary, which features a video where she digs her way under two fences over the course of several days in order to get to a terrapin on the other side. (Sorry about the terminology mashup. I regularly misuse the word turtle to mean shelled reptiles on land, but technically what I am discussing are terrapins. Turtles are aquatic.)

Resource Guarding

What I missed in my original examination of the video, but agree absolutely was there, now that others have mentioned it, was resource guarding. When Summer grabs the Styrofoam container and lifts it out and backs up, she is not trying to get away from the reptile. Nor was she doing what a human might do: moving something and backing up to see the results. Upon consideration, I think she pretty clearly believes she has the reptile in the Styrofoam, and is likely trying to get the whole thing away from Clara, the other dog. (If I leave the snake theory aside for a moment, she may even think the Styrofoam-with-reptile-odor-inside is a new and weird type of turtle!)

Many people mentioned the angle of her body with regard to Clara, and the direction of her glance. She thinks she has the prize and is getting it away. She didn’t know there was a hole in the bottom of the container.

Ellen Barry asked in the comments whether my dogs regularly guard things from each other. Oh yeah! They do, but generally at a very low level. It is what I would classify as normal resource guarding, and they work things out without violence. My movie  “Resource Guarding in Slow Motion” shows many such interactions between my dogs. In most interactions between those Clara and Summer, Clara keeps or wins the access to the resource. But she knows when to back off.  Clara acts like a big lug a lot of the time but her sense of dog social cues is very finely tuned. In the last interaction in the resource guarding movie she wisely allows Summer to keep a toy with only a small but significant glance from Summer, and she generally stays well away when Summer is guarding a reptile or other varmint. I think she knows Summer is willing to go well beyond a dirty look to keep such a thing. Clara, with all her pushy behavior, is actually quite a peaceable dog.

Summer, not so much. Below is an old photo of her giving Cricket a very hard look–while pushing into her space–for coming too close while Summer is after a turtle. This is from the Summer and the Turtle video I mentioned above, at 0:30. See that very dirty look?

A sable dog is curved towards and looking directly at a small, black and white rat terrier. The sable dog is resource guarding a turtle. The look is direct and unfriendly.

Summer says, “My turtle!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clara can read that type of look very well. So when Summer said, “MY critter,” Clara wisely stayed away. Ironic that she was the one who got the closeup of the lizard. (And she startled too, did you see!)  But lucky for the lizard that it was Clara!

Summer in typical predator mode

Summer in typical predator mode

Thank you to everyone who viewed and commented on the video. I’m so glad that others are interested in this stuff. Oh, and to Meghan, who noticed Summer’s low tail set in the video. Yes, I noticed that too and it was definitely atypical. Usually Summer’s tail is curled up over her back like a husky’s when she is aroused and going after something. My best theory is that the fear and caution were keeping it down in the lizard interaction.

More comments are welcome! What do you see? What have we missed?

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Copyright 2016 Eileen Anderson

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Posted in Dog body language, Fear, Predation, Resource guarding | 4 Comments

Body Language Study: Fear and What Else?

Dog body language study starring Summer

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!

Link to the video for email subscribers.

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Dog Body Language Posts and Videos

Copyright 2016 Eileen Anderson

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Posted in Dog body language, Fear | 27 Comments

Opposition Reflex: What Is It Really?

A white dog is wearing an orange harness with a leash attached. The leash is taut, and being pulled ahead. The dog is braced and throwing his weight backwards. Many would call this an example of the opposition reflex

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.

Results: nothing.

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.

History

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?

  1. The animal is trying to get to something and is being restrained
  2. The animal is trying to get away from something and is being restrained
  3. 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.
  4. 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.

Leash Walking

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.

Link to the video for email subscribers.

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?

Addendum

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:

  1. Cite a source listing the “opposition reflex” as a true reflex from a canine anatomy/physiology, neurology, or other veterinary textbook.
  2. Show that near 100% of neurologically healthy dogs demonstrate it in the same way.
  3. Show the body part that can receive the stimulus and nerve group involved.
  4. Show that the same physiological response is consistent.
  5. 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.

Photo Credit: © Can Stock Photo Inc. / Vishneveckiy

Text copyright 2016 Eileen Anderson

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Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever? But We Live in NJ!

Kate and BooBoo

Kate and BooBoo

Guest post by Kate LaSala, CTC

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.

boohospital

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.

Black dog BooBoo, survivor of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, joyfully running on a bridge

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.

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.)
  4. 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%.
  5. 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.
  6. 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

JAVMA, Vol 221, No. 10, November 15, 2002
Companion Animal Parasite Council
Merck Veterinary Manual
Medscape
US CDC

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:

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Introducing a Puppy and a Sound Sensitive Dog: Preparation Pays Off

Last month I posted to show how Marge Rogers introduced a friendly but possibly overenthusiastic dog to a very small puppy. But what if the challenge were a little different? What if your resident dog were both fearful of new dogs and sound sensitive?Young puppies are not exactly quiet!

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.

Dennis and stuffed dogFirst 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.

Dennis and stuffed dog 2Before 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?

Dennis and Saya

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.

Related Posts

 

All photos, the movie, and quotes from Kelly: Copyright Kelly Viscosi 2016

Eileen’s commentary: Copyright Eileen Anderson 2016

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Silence is…Scary?

Trigger warning: animal experimentation (mice).

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

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.

Here are some of the articles.

All of the above cite a particular study from 2013 as part of their arguments:

Is silence golden? Effects of auditory stimuli and their absence on adult hippocampal neurogenesis

The entire study is available at the link.

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.

Anechoic Chambers

the walls of an anechoic chamber absorb sound and break up the waves, creating and eerie silence

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:

We all crave it, but can you stand the silence? The longest anyone can bear Earth’s quietest place is 45 minutes  **See addendum at bottom of post

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.

The Results

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!

Related Posts

Don’t Get Mud On Your Face! Citing Research in Discussions 

Reading Research: 8 Classic Red Flags (Yvette Van Veen of Awesome Dogs)

Reading Research: Does Size Matter? (Yvette Van Veen of Awesome Dogs)

How to Spot Research Spin: The Case of the Not So Simple Abstract

**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.

Copyright 2016 Eileen Anderson

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Canine Cognitive Dysfunction Print Book Released

Summer, a sable colored mixed breed dog, holds a book: Remember Me? Loving and Caring for a Dog with Canine Cognitive Dysfunction by Eileen Anderson

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;
  • the treatments;
  • 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

Book: Remember Me? Loving and Caring for a Dog with Canine Cognitive DysfunctionFor 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.

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Introducing a Puppy and an Adult Dog: Take it Slow

Tinker

Marge’s guest puppy Tinker Belle

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.

Clara and Zani

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.

The Timing

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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.

Link to the movie for email subscribers.

Patience and Barriers

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.

You can view Zip’s lovely interactions with his next puppy guest here: Off Leash Puppy Play.

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Copyright 2016 Eileen Anderson

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