Progress vs. Perfection

Jolanta Benal on December 22, 2011

I read the same training lists as everybody else – Click-L ABAT, clickerexpo, you know the ones. All those precise, clever trainers put my jaw on the floor. They also lead me to thinking about how the goals of behavior modification and the goals of training aren’t always exactly the same – in fact, sometimes too much focus on perfect manners can make us miss a behavioral improvement that we would otherwise greet with joy.

An example from my own dog, Juniper the Lifelong Behavior Modification Project, and one I’ve had repeated with any number of clients.

Juni’s been clicker trained since I brought him home at 8 ½ weeks, and as a puppy he earned his breakfast on his morning walk every day. So he has beautiful leash manners. Or he used to. Since we did the Constructional Aggression Treatment, they’ve – well, not fallen apart, but deteriorated.

Juni has been aggressive toward other dogs his whole life; CAT hasn’t cured him, but it has increased the number and frequency of pro-social behaviors he performs toward other dogs. For instance, when a dog passes us on the sidewalk, Juni will often put on the brakes and turn back in the direction the dog has gone. With his neck extended and his body language indicating social interest, he sniffs after the departing dog.

Juni’s post-CAT behavior during nighttime walks changed, too. I found myself often holding a taut leash and wondering why my formerly well-trained dog was pulling toward this tree and that hydrant. Then I registered what he wasn’t doing: walking tensely – slowly!—at my side, head and ears up, tail tight, in the way typical of dogs who are more reactive at night than during the day. Now that he was less vigilant, he had more attention to spare for other things. Things to smell. Things he wanted to get to ASAP.

This obviously blows “walking at my side with the leash slack.” Had I been completely focused on his manners, I might have missed the fact that both situations reflect important, positive behavioral change. Instead, I decided that while I would retrain nighttime leash walking, so that my arms would stay the same length while my dog enjoyed his sniffs, I wasn’t going to make any attempt to “fix” the sniffing-after-dogs behavior. Why? Because perfect leash walking is much less important to both Juniper’s quality of life and mine than continued practice of pro-social behavior toward dogs.

My clients often supply a related example. Many of the dogs I work with are shy or suspicious of strangers. It’s a banner day for me when such a dog gives me the Full Wiggly Butt and rushes around me joyfully or puts her forepaws on my knee to get closer when I sit down. Every single time it happens, the poor human client is horrorstruck at her dog’s bad manners. Meanwhile, I’m rejoicing at the dog’s increased comfort and sociability.

Don’t get me wrong – I prize good manners. Otherwise I wouldn’t have spent all that time teaching Juni to walk politely on leash! But sometimes “good manners” screen a problem, as with Juni’s former nighttime vigilance or my clients’ dogs’ keeping their distance from visitors. When manners seem to break down during behavior modification, it might actually be a good sign. Let the reason behind the “breakdown” guide your response.