Life lessons from my anxious dog

Patience is key, reactivity gets you nowhere, and there are no shortcuts.

I have a beautiful, spoiled, anxious Basset Hound lab mix named Bartleby the Sniffler. I adopted him when I was 22, not realizing he already had separation anxiety, and presumably owners who had never taught him how to engage with the world constructively. True to his name, he’d rather not be quiet, stop gobbling up garbage, and chasing cats.

His behavior was a huge problem and drove my then roommates nuts. I probably owe them all gift cards or something.

Training him changed me, because none of the approaches that came naturally to me worked. The tough love, cry it out, approach to dog training only resulted in complaints from the neighbors and a very anxious, very confused dog.

Through a course on dog psychology (you heard me), I learned Bartleby wasn’t stubborn, defiant, and rebellious like I thought. Mostly he was scared, overwhelmed, and confused about how to interact with the world.

The dog trainer taught me that rest is a skill that dogs have to learn. Dogs have to practice how to respond when excited or scared. It’s a skill more than a disposition. Many dogs learn this when they’re puppies through basic obedience training, but dogs who don’t learn face an uphill battle.

They have to encounter their stressors and fears in small doses, slowly building a higher and higher tolerance for stress. Learning to be quiet when their owners leave and to pass by a barking dog without losing their shit.

I set out to do this with some medicinal assistance for Bartleby. Dogs have to be in a state of relative calm or low to mid stress to learn. If they are completely dominated by fear or excitement, all the training rolls off of them like water off a duck's back. They just keep reacting.

It’s incredibly hard to change cemented behavioral patterns and as I was rolling up my sleeves and training Bartleby, I began to realize I had a lot to learn too. I couldn’t sit still either. I lunged and barked at what scared me (metaphorically), and thugging it out, gritting my teeth, and clenching my fists wasn’t working. I had to learn patience with my own responses. I had to do small scary things and forgive myself when they didn’t go well. I’m still trying to do this. I’m still learning to be still and be calm and be brave.

What I have accomplished has always been wholly by patience, persistence, and gentleness. I’m facing my fears slowly. Sometimes they still consume me and I howl and bark, but the next day I try again. I try a smaller challenge. I make sure I rest and reset myself. I bring treats on my walks, and I hate to admit it, but it’s working.