A Dog’s Best Friend: The Secrets that Make Good Dog Owners Great. Jan Fennell

both had got used to caving in.

      They had both owned dogs in the past and knew this was a situation that just couldn’t go on. But nothing they did seemed to help. Guinness had been taken to training classes locally but he had grabbed the trainer’s arm with such force they were told he was ‘too stupid’ to be trained. Terry and Sandra were loving owners and they thought the world of Guinness. But he was already aggressive towards strangers, squaring up to them and barking loudly in their faces and their concern was that this defiance was leading in only one direction.

      ‘It’s only a matter of time before he does something worse – and that will be the end of him,’ Terry told me.

      The success I had helping other people with their dogs had given me some confidence that I could help. My method was based on the idea that dogs’ problems stem from their mistaken belief that they are the leader of their domestic pack and that their owners contribute to this by behaving as if they are indeed subordinate members of that pack. The only way to correct this was by getting the owner to replace the dog at the head of the domestic hierarchy by means of a bloodless coup, using a visual language the dog can understand to get the message across. This was something that would be implemented gradually at the four key moments in the pack’s daily routine – when they reunited after separation, at times of perceived danger, at mealtimes and when out on the walk. I would begin the process myself during my visit, but after that it would be up to the owner to keep it going over the days, weeks, months (and even years!) ahead.

      There was no question in my mind that Guinness saw himself as leader. Even when speaking to Terry on the phone, I had immediately known what the disdainful look he described was all about. It was Guinness’ way of saying: ‘Excuse me, who are you, telling me what to do?’ The way he gave me a similar look when I arrived at the house only confirmed this.

      After I’d explained what I wanted to do, we began the difficult job of ‘trading places’, relieving Guinness of the job of leader and installing Terry and Sandra in his place. This was easier said than done.

      We began by simply ignoring him, as an Alpha would naturally dismiss a subordinate in its pack in order to assert itself. Guinness clearly wasn’t going to have this and he began doing what he could to get our attention. First, he began tugging at Terry’s trousers. When I asked Terry to block him from doing this, he then started barking in their faces, licking their hands, doing anything he could think of to get their attention. When he saw they were ignoring him, he pulled his bed from another room and placed it in the middle of the living room, only to have Sandra remove it immediately at my request.

      Dogs are extremely smart and it was a measure of how intelligent Guinness was and how hard he was thinking about things, that a lot of this behaviour was completely new to Terry and Sandra. The key was, not to acknowledge this. Every nerve end in their bodies was telling them to acknowledge him and tell him off, but – encouraged by me – they stuck at it and refused to recognise any of this. This went on for almost an hour, during which time Guinness grew, if anything, even more determined. After a while Terry and Sandra were finding it really hard so I suggested we move to another room. No sooner had we shut the door behind us than Guinness was pulling at the door handle and trying to get in.

      It was very hard work, but after an hour and a half, our perseverance paid off and Guinness became noticeably calmer. By the time I left the house the attention-seeking behaviour had ceased. I knew there was a long way to go, but I was hopeful they’d made a good start.

      I left them to it, but asked them to stay in touch if there were difficulties. Over the course of the following week, I heard from them on a daily basis. Guinness had calmed down a little and was behaving less manically when they ignored him. But problems arose whenever they went to reward him.

      Terry loved playing with Guinness. To him there was nothing more fun than lying on the floor and treating his dog to a bit of rough-and-tumble wrestling or throwing a stick around in the park. But these were precisely the sort of signals that had to be avoided. As I told Terry, Guinness couldn’t play the game until he knew the rules. And he was showing no signs of understanding them, nor would he while Terry was effectively paying homage to Guinness as leader. He had made progress, but the reality was that Guinness’ leadership instincts were so powerful, it only needed the slightest false signal for him to forget all he’d been taught and to resume power once more. Any sign of the old affection or warmth from Terry or Sandra sent Guinness into a real flip. He would jump up, begin barking and generally revert to his old ways almost immediately. It was as if he was a deposed political leader, unable to accept his removal from power and desperate to take over again.

      Terry understood that he had to adopt a colder, more detached manner with Guinness, but he was finding it hard to do so. ‘It seems so formal. I want to play with him, I want to show him I love him,’ he said.

      This was a comment I heard a lot. For most people, ruffling a dog’s coat or giving him a squeeze is one of the most natural and instinctive acts in the world. I knew this only too well for myself. Yet I also knew how important it was to remain in control, to display the aloof, slightly detached demeanour of the leader of the pack. So my response to this had already become well established. ‘I know how natural it feels to show love to a dog, and you are not going to stop doing that. You’re just going to channel it in another way, turn that affection in a different direction,’ I told Terry.

      Terry understood the risks if he didn’t stick to the method. ‘It’s tough, but I’ll persevere,’ he said.

      It was probably three months or so before I heard from them again. This time Terry and Sandra sounded much more positive. They were making great progress, Guinness was going out for long walks, he was behaving much better around visitors and – most importantly of all – he was doing what Terry and Sandra asked of him.

      They had learned to reward him in a matter-of-fact way, with a ‘good lad’ and a stroke of the head rather than the ruffles and cuddles of the past. It was a sacrifice worth making, they said.

      It was about a year later that I saw them next. I happened to be in their village and thought I’d pop in. Terry answered the door and was soon joined by Guinness, who approached him in a very controlled, self-disciplined way. When I asked how they were getting on I sensed a hint of sadness in his voice.

      ‘We’re OK,’ Terry said.

      I was still uncertain of where I was going with my method – if anywhere – and I really needed the feedback.

      ‘Please tell me if you’re not convinced we’ve done the right thing or if it’s not worked. I need to know,’ I said.

      ‘Oh no, it’s worked, Guinness is a different dog these days,’ Terry said. ‘What breaks my heart is that I can’t get close to him.’

      Terry called him over, stroked his head and said ‘good boy’. ‘That’s as much as we can do without him going back to his old ways,’ he said.

      As ever, they had not been short of advice from friends and family. Many had said they were wrong to adopt such a ‘way out’ method. But whenever anyone had sounded off, Terry had challenged them to do better.

      He had simply let them call Guinness over, shower him with cuddles and then watch him revert to his former, uncontrollable self. On one occasion, his brother had criticised what Terry was doing as ‘cruel’.

      ‘I told him he was free to have a go, but within ten seconds Guinness had jumped at him, knocked him over and pinned him to the floor,’ Terry said. ‘It was the only way I could get the message through to them,’ he told me with a resigned smile.

      There were consolations. Terry and Sandra loved walking and were now able to go on long rambles with Guinness. He was now very responsive to their requests and behaved impeccably when he came into contact with other people or dogs, allowing Terry and Sandra to relax and enjoy themselves much more when they were out together.

      ‘I still