then started to wonder if the same approach would work when they were off the lead. In the past, my dogs would scatter to the four winds and then display ‘selective hearing’: they would come back to me perfectly well on some occasions, but if distracted by a rabbit or another dog, my futile attempts to call them back would echo across fields. On other occasions, I have seen dogs go back eventually, only to be smacked by their frustrated owner. I always thought that this was a confusing signal for the dog – surely it would make a dog wary of returning if it knew it was going to get clobbered? And if anybody has tried to catch their dog to get it under control, they know they can sometimes be led a merry dance by the dog, who waits for the owner to get close, then runs off again.
Once more, looking to the wolf pack gave me my answer to the selective hearing problem. Knowing that the Alpha wolf leads the pack on the hunt, I looked at the situation from the dog’s point of view. If that dog believed it was Alpha, then it would think it was leading the hunt. Therefore, the owner’s job, as subordinate, would not be to call the dog back, but to follow as a pack member. Encouraged by the positive response I had got working on the leads, I decided to show my dogs that I led the hunt off the lead as well.
I was not keen to test out this theory in an open field, but luckily I had enough room in my garden to make a start. Calling the dogs to heel and rewarding them for doing so immediately took away the confusion that arises when owners punish their dogs for coming to them late. Again the dogs were quick to learn, all except Kim, the beagle. On one occasion, she was still not responding, preferring to nose around the garden. Frustrated, I turned away and headed for the back door, determined to leave her out there. As I reached the door and looked back, I saw Kim running flat out to get indoors. Inspiration struck. From then on, if Kim did not come when I asked, I turned round and walked back to the house, whereupon she would follow me. Dogs are, by nature, pack animals, and given the choice of going alone or returning to the pack, they choose the pack every time.
It was a huge leap forward. It was as if I held the dogs on invisible leads attached to them. The difference was astounding: within a week or so again, they were still enjoying their freedom, but now they were doing so in a way that meant they never strayed very far from me. And when I wanted the pack to re-form to return home, they accepted the minimal instruction I gave to them instantly. I was, I must admit, over the moon.
I wouldn’t want to create the impression that all this came easily, that everything fell into place instantly: it didn’t, I can assure you. As I tried to develop my ideas some things simply didn’t work. In particular I found that any attempt to combine my new practices with the old, obedience training stuff did more harm than good. But as I thought about incorporating things like discs, clickers and head braces I realised ‘this is simply confusing’. And if I was mixed up, what on earth would the dogs’ response be?
I realise now that I was being human, I was overcomplicating things. I kept thinking: ‘There has to be more to it than this, it can’t be this simple,’ and kept looking for other things. Slowly, however, it was dawning on me that in some ways it really was this simple. If I just concentrated on the dogs’ way rather than the human way, I was going to be far more successful; it was obvious really, when do you ever see one dog using collars or leads or clickers on another dog? From then on, I determined that I was going to try do this without resorting to any artificial man-made means.
By now I had been applying the principles with great success for two or three months but a part of me was still convinced I was not getting the full picture. My own dogs were providing me with information on a daily basis, and as they did so, I was able to make little refinements to the techniques I was developing – it really was a question of trial and error at times. But the next big breakthrough did not come via the dogs I had then. Once more, it was my memories of The Duchess, Donna, that provided the inspiration.
I have always believed in treating my dogs to a supply of fresh marrow bones once a week. When Donna was around, the moment I put the bones down on the ground marked the moment the same little ritual would begin. In her usual imperious way Donna would walk silently in and the others would immediately stand back. Donna would then slowly sniff out the bones she wanted, then walk away with them. Only then would the others take what they wanted. It was, I realised, the same principle of leadership with which I was now so familiar. The one who appeared to do nothing got everything it wanted. And it made me think about using feeding time as a way of re-establishing the leadership structure. This was not a new idea entirely. The importance of eating in front of a dog was something I had read while studying the behaviourists. They recognised it as a simple way of showing them you are the leader. Again this made sense to me having watched other animals, lions and – again – wolves in particular: it is always the Alpha that eats first in group feeders.
But while I agreed with the behaviourists’ idea, I disagreed with the method that flowed from this. The behaviourists’ approach was to impose a pecking order during the evening meal. Under this system, the human finished their meal in full view of the dog before allowing it to eat its meal afterwards. It was a procedure that undoubtedly produced results but there was a lot I was not happy about. Apart from anything else, people feed their dogs at different times of the day and night. Dogs in sanctuaries, for instance, are fed in the morning. I also thought the approach was too protracted. Again I thought about dogs in the wild, and couldn’t see how the pack would wait until the evening. A dog is an opportunist eater rather than only a gorge eater. It will catch a hare, a bird – any prey that will keep it going – it will not lounge around all day: getting food is the priority of the day.
On top of all this, it seemed an unkind thing to do. I put myself in the dog’s place. I thought: ‘If you’ve gone all day without food and then the human sits down to eat before you finally get yours, you are going to be ravenous.’ This might put the dogs in their place but it is not very nice. I knew feeding time had huge potential as a means of reinforcing the leadership signals, but I wasn’t going to eat a full breakfast or an evening meal in front of them, so I had to think of something else to get that information across. I had to come up with a new method.
I was beginning to realise that quick, instinctive information was the most useful, probably because a dog has no concept of the future at all. I had seen that sometimes the slightest gesture is capable of conveying a huge amount of information. The thought came to me one day. That evening, before I mixed their food, I put a cracker on a plate. Then I got out their bowls and mixed it up on a raised surface. What I then did was take the cracker out and eat it, making it look as if the food was coming out of their bowls. Again I was thinking of it in terms of the pack mentality. What do they see? They see you eating out of their bowl. What does that make you? The leader.
I was not tackling bad behaviour in this case. There were no particular problems at feeding time, quite the opposite in fact, it was a time when I knew I could get their undivided attention and their best behaviour too. I fed them in their individual bowls, each of them dotted around the kitchen and the hallway. They knew their spots and – apart from their habit of exploring each other’s empty bowls – behaved very well. In this case, my motivation was simply to underline the message I was getting across in the other areas.
They quickly sensed something was different. I can remember them looking at me rather strangely, trying to work out what I was up to. There was a little drama at first. There would be a little jumping and whining but soon they were used to the ritual and would wait patiently while I ate my cracker. They seemed to accept that I had to be satisfied before they too could eat. Then when I placed their bowls down they ate contentedly. The changes were not dramatic but on this occasion I had not expected them to be. It was simply another confirmation that I was their leader, another trick up my sleeve. And what pleased me most once more was that success had come by thinking of the nature of the dog.
By now I must admit I was feeling quite pleased with myself. Life always has a habit of cutting you down to size, however, and I was soon reeling from a terrible setback. I had already lost Sandy in the summer of 1992 but then in February
