Teach Your Dog to Wait at Doors

One of the first things I learned as a new dog owner was that I should never let my dog go out the door before me, lest she think she was the “alpha” in our “pack.”

This rationale is still quite prevalent, despite thorough debunking by experts across multiple fields. And unfortunately the corollary that you must prove that, no, you are the alpha leads to some pretty unpleasant ways of teaching and enforcing doorway protocol, among other things.

Many such methods focus on stopping the unwanted behavior, rather than teaching an alternative. They set the dog up to start walking through the door and then get corrected for it—be it by walking into the dog, yelling and clapping, spraying the dog in the face with a squirt bottle, throwing an object at the dog, or choking, poking, or shocking with a collar. Almost nobody actually enjoys doing these things to a dog, and in dogs as in children, the use of physical punishment carries the risk of some well-documented side effects, ranging from apathy to fear to aggression.

But let’s not throw the puppy out with the bathwater. There are a lot of perfectly valid reasons to teach your dog how to behave around an open door. Especially in the urban environment, there’s endless trouble a dog can run into by darting across the threshold before you’ve had a chance to scope things out. Every dog who lives in an elevator building, for instance, ought to learn how to wait before entering the car.

Fortunately, it’s easy to teach a dog what to do instead of dashing through an open door.

Start your lessons with a door that doesn’t lead anywhere dangerous or incredibly tempting. Put your dog on leash if you need to work at an exit that goes to an unsecured or particularly fun area, but keep the leash slack—think seat belt, not reins.

Open the door just a crack, or even simply touch the door handle, click or mark with a "yes," then toss a small treat your dog really loves on the floor behind the dog. Close the door and wait for the dog to eat and reorient. Repeat.

If you’re working at an elevator, push the call button, walk back 10 feet, and simply start feeding the dog just as the elevator door opens. Don’t walk toward or get on the elevator; just continue to feed until the door closes, then stop abruptly when it does. Repeat.

If your dog likes the treats you’re using, he’ll quickly start to make some associations:

  • The door opening predicts treats, and
  • Those treats will come from my human’s hands and/or appear a few feet behind me.

Anticipation will begin to change what your dog does when you open the door, or when the elevator opens. In most cases, he’ll start to shift his weight back and/or look at you as the door opens.

Observe what he does that you like—whatever’s incompatible with running through the open door—and begin to mark it with your "yes" or your click before delivering the treat. The more specific you can be about what you mark, the faster the training will likely go.

When your dog has confidently offered this lovely behavior four or five times in a row, begin opening the door a little bit further. As the response becomes reliable at each new level, open the door incrementally wider.

If at any point the dog walks through the door, don’t click, don’t treat, and don’t head out for a walk. Simply invite the dog back inside to try again. If the dog fails once more, back up your criteria a little, use better reinforcers, or both.

When you can open the door wide enough for the dog to move through, and he chooses to plant his front feet or look at you instead, you can add a verbal cue, such as “wait.”

You don’t really need a verbal cue if you only want this behavior when you open a door—the door opening will become the cue to wait. But adding a verbal cue lets you quickly teach this behavior at other doors, doorways without actual doors, car doors, curbs, and other locations. You can even use it to stop your dog in his tracks with no doorway in sight—say, if he’s heading for a dropped item on the kitchen floor.

Pretty quickly after teaching the wait, teach the dog that there’s a cue that means it’s time to go through the doorway. (I use "Okay!") Prompt and then reinforce the behavior of moving out of position. At least initially, reinforce with a treat or play as well as access to whatever’s on the other side of the door.

Here’s a video of Stella, a border collie mix, a former client of mine through Animal Behavior Training Concepts, responding to “hold up” and release cues taught earlier in the same session at an interior doorway. Because the release cue is an opportunity to earn the treat, giving the release cue reinforces the wait, and the click/treat that follows the release strengthens both the release behavior and the wait.

If your dog doesn’t pay attention to treats when there’s a chance to go through a door, that doesn’t mean this method won’t work for you. Reinforcement value is relative, and for Stella, when we took her “hold up” to an exterior door, the chance to go through the door trumped any food or toy we had to offer. So did we resort to punishment? No; we simply used what she told us she wanted, a win-win for dog and human.

Want Reliable Behaviors? Create Reliable Cues.

Ever wondered why your dog only seems to recognize his own name half the time, but will come tearing from a different floor of the house any time you rustle a resealable bag?

Both the dog’s name and the rustle of the treat bag are cues. One you may have taught on purpose—though the dog may not have learned what you thought you were teaching. The other you probably taught by accident—but you did a better job than you know.

Some definitions:

  • A cue is a signal in the environment that tells the animal reinforcement is available for a certain behavior or sequence of behaviors now. “Commands” from you can be cues, but all cues are not commands. In fact, the great majority of your dog's cues come from the environment, not you. Thirst might cue the dog to walk to the toilet. A closed lid on the toilet might cue the dog to walk to the water bowl. An empty water bowl might cue the dog to bang the bowl with a paw.
  • A reinforcer is anything that, as a consequence of behavior, increases the future probability of that behavior.

What most people want their dog to do when they call his name is for the dog to look at or come to them. So ideally, for the dog, the name should predict: “If you look/come here, you’ll get something or get to do something you really like.”

But how often is that true? What percentage of the time does your dog’s name predict a treat, play, access to the outdoors, petting of a sort your dog genuinely loves, or other great reinforcers?

What percentage of the time does your dog’s name predict the end of play, the end of digging, losing sight of a squirrel, being grabbed abruptly by the collar, kennel time, departure time, a nail trim, a squirt of ear cleaner, petting of a sort your dog doesn't like, or just nothing in particular?

Estimating these ratios will give you a pretty good picture of the current reliability of your dog’s response to his name. And you can apply this same math to figure out how reliable any other cue is. The "math" is a crude version of the Matching Law, which essentially says animals exhibit behaviors in proportion to how much reinforcement has been available for those behaviors in the past.

Now: About what percentage of the time would you say the aforementioned rustle of a bag predicts the dog will get food?

How often does it predict anything other than food? (If your answer is anything less than 99%, BTW, you're a sadist.)

So what can you do to increase the chances that your dog will respond to a his name the same way he does to the rustle?

Make sure your cues predict an outcome that your dog will really look forward to.

One could argue more broadly that the answer is to ensure your cues predict enough reinforcement to make the behavior "worthwhile" under a variety of conditions—be that reinforcement cheese or avoidance of punishment. But ethical trainers try very hard to teach dogs using stuff they will work to get, and using stuff that evokes joy has the additional benefit of creating joyful associations with both behaviors and the cues that signal them. Does your dog just mechanically walk over when you rustle the bag? Or does he bound over with soft eyes and a broad tail wag and his mouth lolling open, maybe a drop of drool on his tongue? When you give your recall cue, you want that look to come over his body as soon as he hears it.

In fact, this predictive relationship may be all you need to establish, with behavior evolving naturally as a by-product of the association. If you teach a dog what reliably signals that you are going to produce something he loves, and then you give that signal when you're not standing right next to him, he will figure out what behavior to do to get where the good stuff is. (See also: The Dog Already Knows How.)

Jettison cues that have poor predictive value, that have been weakened by overuse or poisoned. Replace them with new ones that are more reliable predictors of reinforcement.

You probably don’t want to change your dog’s name—I don't either, though frankly I'm human, and so it's my least effective way to get her attention. But do be aware of, and try to bolster, its relationship to reinforcement, and then maybe teach another cue, a fond nickname or a "secret password" that you’ll use when you need a more reliable response.

Even then, though, there are still obstacles to reliability. Let’s take one of our own strongest behaviors: stepping on the gas at the sight of a green light. For experienced drivers, it feels like the most "automatic" of responses. But it's still a choice, and there are still times when we will choose to do otherwise.

First, you have to be able to perceive the cue—which you might not if you’re texting (stop texting!), squinting into the sun, or trying to retrieve the Cheez-It you dropped into your crotch.

What’s more, there may be competing cues in the environment—say, an adorable dog on the corner, or a witless pedestrian in the middle of the crosswalk.

When you call your dog’s name, and he doesn’t respond, it coule be that he isn’t sure what it predicts, or there are competing cues in the environment, or both. Hey, Dad’s calling my name over there, which could mean a biscuit, a bath, or nothing at all, but the strong scent of rabbit poop right under my nose is heralding the taste of rabbit poop, so . . . no contest.

Such hurdles can be largely overcome by anticipating and building tolerance for various competing cues into your training. If your dog can respond enthusiastically to his name at home, master it in the yard. If you’ve mastered it in the back yard, work the front porch. Take it on the road, and move it on down the street. Work it far away from rabbit poop, and then work incrementally closer.

The point of training a recall cue is to be able to call your dog off a potentially life-threatening distraction. But during training, train—don't test (a mantra I came across while reading an article about gundog trainer Mike Stewart a couple years ago and immediately stole). Set the dog up to earn reinforcement over and over again, because (remember our definitions?) it's what strengthens future behavior. Don’t bother giving the cue when you won’t be able to make it pay off for the dog; don't turn your cue into another signal that means "maybe she will, maybe she won't." And reinforce most generously when looking at you costs the dog access to something else really great.

This post was originally written for One Tail at a Time. It has since been revised and updated.

Why Dog Training "Tips" Often Fail: Puppy Biting Edition

When I began apprenticing as a dog trainer, almost a decade ago, I had a million questions for my new mentor, Laura Monaco Torelli, and most of them started with, “What do I do when . . . ”

I imagined any professional dog trainer would just have a mental catalog of predetermined responses for various situations: When the dog does this, you should do that. If he does that, you do this.

But instead, the answer to almost all of my questions, to my frustration, started with some variation on “Well, it depends.”

It turns out this answer is so common in dog training that it’s sort of an inside joke—at one seminar I attended, a presenter joked that she should just have a T-shirt made.

It would be a couple more years before I really understood this answer, and I’m not sure I truly, deeply grokked it until my interest in dog behavior led me into the broader field of applied behavior analysis.

That’s where, finally, I learned that what we think of as a single behavior—let’s use puppy biting as an example today—can actually be many different behaviors, and that each one must be viewed in context of its specific antecedents and consequences.

Antecedents are signals in the environment that tell the animal a given behavior is likely to produce reinforcement now. Consequences are outcomes that make the behavior more or less likely the next time the same circumstances arise. Behaviors that produce desired consequences will be repeated, and antecedents that predict desired consequences for a given behavior will become cues for those behaviors. To change behavior, we have to adjust these environmental conditions.

This is why dog training “tips” and even whole “methods” sometimes fail. General advice, by nature, cannot take into account the specific context in which a behavior occurs.

Yeah, yeah, you say. I get it in theory—but my puppy is biting my hand right now, and it hurts like a motherf@#%er. I have to do something, don't I?

The good news is that with some practice, assessing why a behavior might be occurring and figuring out what to change doesn’t have to take long.

First, identify the behavior—just one, and just the facts, no interpretation or implied motive.

Then, as if you were examining a filmstrip frame by frame, look at what typically happens immediately before and just after, in similarly objective terms. For example:

ANTECEDENT: I move my hand toward the puppy’s collar.

BEHAVIOR: The puppy puts her teeth on my arm.

CONSEQUENCE: I pull my hand away.

Now we can make a hypothesis—an educated guess—about whether, if these conditions are repeated, the behavior is more or less likely to happen again next time. It can be helpful to rephrase the above terms as “when,” “if,” and “then”:

WHEN I reach toward the puppy’s collar

IF the puppy puts her teeth on my arm

THEN I pull my hand away.

PREDICTION: When I reach for the collar, the puppy will continue to put her teeth on my arm in order to make my hand go away.

We don’t know why this hypothetical puppy wants my hand to go away. We don’t know if she’s “angry” (a label often used to describe a group of behaviors that people with better understanding of dog body language might call “scared”). It’s unhelpful to speculate whether she is “dominant.” But with just the observable facts, we can make a plan and test our hypothesis.

One approach might be to teach the puppy that as I reach toward her collar, she can do a different behavior that produces a consequence she likes:

WHEN I reach toward the puppy’s collar

IF she looks forward

THEN I give a treat

PREDICTION: The puppy will increasingly look forward more when I reach toward her collar.

What’s more, the puppy’s motivation to make my hand go away in the first place is probably going to get weaker. After all, my reach now predicts a treat.

There are lots of variables in this simple-sounding process. For instance, if the puppy is extremely uncomfortable being reached for, we might have to break it into small steps, only reaching partway toward the collar at first. The treats need to be something this particular puppy really values, not just something that came in a bag labeled TREATS. For one puppy, I might be able to just catch her looking forward before she turns toward my hand. For another, I might prompt the new behavior more explicitly to start, say, by presenting a treat right in front of her nose as I reach in, until she starts to anticipate that it will be there.

Over time, the puppy can also learn that me reaching for the collar predicts me clipping the leash on, which predicts a walk. At this stage, if the puppy finds going for a walk reinforcing, treats can be faded out.

Now let’s look at another puppy biting scenario, where the behavior looks the same (and hurts just as much), but the function is different:

WHEN I am working on my computer

IF the puppy bites my arm

THEN I reach for a toy

PREDICTION: The puppy will bite my arm more often when I am working on my computer.

The function of this behavior is different from the function in the previous example—and thus it best assessed as an entirely different behavior.

The first time your puppy bites your arm here, she probably isn’t requesting a squeaky. But behaviors that start with one function can easily acquire another. Sitting is not the behavior dogs naturally do to get food. Yet most pet dogs, even if you’re barely making an effort to train them, will somehow learn to sit to acquire food. Think about that—what animal, in the wild, sits to get food?

In this case, your solution should acknowledge that a puppy needs lots of legal stuff to do with her mouth. So you can still direct her to a toy, but timing matters: Take your arm out of play right away, without a lot of fuss, and then watch for a moment or two of some other behavior that you like better. Then present the toy so that it not only satisfies the puppy's need to chew or play but also reinforces that bit of more desirable behavior.

Other, even better options:

Give your puppy the toy as soon as you sit down at the computer—before she has to “ask.”

Limit the ways in which she will be able to "ask." For example, you could confine her to an exercise pen near you during computer time, with plenty of legal options for chewing and play, but zero access to your pants. Think of the pen as training wheels: she can ride the bike, but she can’t fall over. When she’s developed good riding habits, you can take the training wheels off.

From there, you can teach easily your puppy something like:

WHEN I am working on my computer

IF you sit next to me

THEN I will give you a toy

Note: This is a place where standard "tips" can really go awry. The behavior here doesn't have to be a sit—and maybe it shouldn't be. Sitting might be hard for your individual dog, because it hurts his hips or because he's too excited or because the surface near where you use your computer is slippery. Standing, lying down, or doing an adorable head tilt might be acceptable or even preferable ways of making this polite request. For more on how to select alternative behaviors, see my columns When Sit Doesn't Happen and Training With the Grain for One Tail at a Time.

There are as many behaviors as there are reasons to behave. Figure out what need your dog is expressing, and teach her the easiest way to get it met.

This post was originally written for One Tail at a Time. It has since been revised and updated.

The Dog Already Knows How: Teaching When, Where, and Why

In training we talk a lot about teaching our dogs how to do behaviors. But what are we really teaching them? They come knowing how to move their own bodies. What we’re really teaching them most of the time is not how to sit, stand, lie down, walk, or look, but rather when, where, and why.

The when is generally either when the human gives the cue or when a certain something else happens in the environment. The where is position—where do you want the dog to be or go or do that thing? And the why is of course what’s in it for the dog. No behavior will keep happening if there’s no reinforcement in it for the behaver.

A really easy way to teach a dog when, where, and why is to simply teach him that a certain signal (from you or the environment) reliably predicts that something he likes will appear in a certain place. He will figure out which behaviors will put him in that place at the right time—so all you need to do is make sure he has a repertoire of actions to choose from that have worked in other situations.

This approach can be used to solve problems that might initially seem to require a more complex plan. Here's an example:

Archie, an adolescent black lab, lived in a home where the front door was below street level and the main living area was up a flight of stairs from the foyer. The top of the stairs was gated while Archie learned that keeping his feet on the floor was the best way to get his favorite people to come up. But the area they stepped into once the gate was opened was pretty tight, so we still wanted to prevent crowding. And if Archie did make a mistake and jump up after the person came through the gate, we didn’t want him to knock anyone backwards down the stairs.

Our first step was to show Archie where to go instead. Archie couldn't be at the side of the stairs and at the top of the stairs at the same time. So to give him a hint, I laid a bathmat along the side of the stairs. He had some reinforcement history with this mat, having been taught to settle on it as a young pup, but he would have needed lots more training, with lots of incremental steps, to be able to settle on it from the time the doorbell rang to the time a guest finally reached the main floor. I wanted to give him and his busy people a simpler, more accomplishable plan.

Next, we taught him when and why. Each time I went down or up the stairs, I reached through the railing and placed a treat on the mat—even if Archie wasn’t anywhere near it. The treat wasn't contingent on his behavior; it was contingent on me arriving at a certain spot on the stairs.

If you're a behavior nerd who's thinking "hey, that sounds a lot like a classical conditioning procedure," well, you're not wrong. To paraphrase Jesus Rosales-Ruiz, in a discussion of the phenomenon of sign tracking last month at the Art and Science of Animal Training Conference: if Pavlov's dogs had not been strapped into harnesses, you can be pretty sure that in addition to salivating when the meat guy walked into the room, they would have moved toward him too.

Anyway, I repeated this pattern until when Archie saw me coming up the stairs, he anticipated the treat and began moving to the mat ahead of it. Anticipation of what predicts where food will appear is a basic survival mechanism, and I just capitalized on it. When Archie started moving to the side reliably, I began to wait until he moved to stick my arm through the railing. The treat now became contingent on his behavior.

If Archie didn’t go to the mat right away, I stopped on the stairs and waited. I didn't place the treat on the mat, and I didn’t come through the gate. When it was clear there was no reinforcement forthcoming for hanging out at the gate, he would move to the mat at the side, and then he'd get the treat. He started to move to the mat faster and faster.

Then we repeated the process with different family members. You can see a snippet of this in the video above. The family stashed a container of treats at the top and bottom of the stairs so that they could consistently reinforce this behavior whenever they went downstairs or came home.

Additional steps included fading the mat and varying how Archie got reinforced for moving to the side—sometimes with a treat, sometimes with butt scratches and happy talk once human and dog are safely away from the top of the stairs. On a visit about a year later, the gate was gone too, and as I came up the stairs, Archie still moved to the side. Good boy, Archie!

This post was originally written for One Tail at a Time. It has since been revised and updated.

Training With Affection

 At ClickerExpo in Portland last week

At ClickerExpo in Portland last week

Food is the go-to reinforcer for training with positive reinforcement, and for lots of good reasons: All animals behave in some way to get food; it's built in or we'd die. Food is a primary reinforcer, meaning you don’t have to learn to want it. With dogs especially, it’s easy to divide into small bites and deliver quickly and consistently, so that you can get in lots of quick reps in a given training session or day. And it’s an extremely potent tool for creating positive associations.

Yet animals also behave for many other reasons, and we humans seem to be particularly interested in whether they will change their behavior because they like us. Researchers have gone back and forth on whether social interaction with humans is a primary or learned reinforcer for dogs and how to quantify its effectiveness; a widely cited 2012 study found it to be less effective than food. Yet many dogs do seem to greatly value human attention, as evidenced by all the acrobatics they regularly perform to attain it—including a whole host of behaviors many people don’t enjoy, such as jumping, barking, mouthing, pawing, and object stealing. And that’s worth exploring, because especially when you’re trying to replace a bad habit with a better one, there are advantages to being able to reinforce the new behavior with whatever the animal was trying to get with the old one.

In recent years, I've attended several seminars presented by Human Animal Learning Opportunities in St. Louis with Dr. Jesús Rosales-Ruiz, an associate professor in the behavior analysis department at the University of North Texas. Dr. Rosales-Ruiz’s special interests include animal training, particularly clicker training, and he is generous about sharing what he and his students are working on with nonacademic practitioners. At these workshops, attended mostly by dog trainers, he reported on the progress of various projects by his grad students, including one called “Give Them Love" whose goal was to further explore the effectiveness of human affection as a reinforcer in training dogs.

I originally wrote about their protocol for my column for the local rescue One Tail at a Time, but Rosales-Ruiz presented on the topic again at ClickerExpo 2017 in Portland last weekend, so I thought now would be a good time to update and republish that post here.

In the shelter environment, dogs who do enjoy affection from humans are often starved for it—and behave accordingly, sometimes scaring potential adopters and volunteers alike with their wild enthusiasm. Training is thought to improve their prospects for getting and staying adopted (though we're still figuring out how) and can enrich the dogs' lives while they're in temporary care, but shelters have limited time, limited resources, limited staff, and if they’re lucky, a rotating cast of volunteers with varying aptitudes for training.

It was in this environment that the UNT team set out to develop and demonstrate their protocol, working with their local shelter in Denton, Texas. They wanted something that worked quickly and was as simple and systematic as possible so it could be easily carried on by staff, volunteers, and adopters.

To explore the use of affection as a reinforcer, they first had to determine what exactly that would look like. Clearly not all interactions with humans qualify. Some of them dogs find downright scary, and some they find annoying: It’s very common for owners to undermine their own training by “rewarding” a lovely behavior with a well-intentioned but off-putting pat-pat-pat on the top of the head.

The researchers in the 2012 study had decided that a good social reinforcer would be four seconds of scratching around the neck combined with verbal praise. But Rosales-Ruiz says that wasn’t nearly enough: Petting, he argues, is the type of reinforcer that is best delivered continuously as the behavior it’s reinforcing occurs, like music or kisses, and not in little bites, like food. So the UNT team started with a definition of “affection” as calm, gentle, and sustained physical contact.

The training process they came up with had two phases:

1. TEACH THE DOG HOW TO GET THE REINFORCER—JUST AS YOU WOULD WITH FOOD. In other words, make it contingent on something he does.

The students picked five dogs who jumped up on people under certain conditions, and chose two simple alternative behaviors to reinforce instead: sitting and lying down, both of which are incompatible with jumping.

They entered the dogs’s kennels bent slightly to greet them before they could jump, and then petted in a slow, sustained manner with one hand for up to two full minutes—or, initially, as long as the dog kept four feet on the floor. No verbal praise was added.

If a dog jumped up, the person stood up, stopped petting, waited for the front feet to return to the floor, and then resumed petting with one hand. If the dog walked away, the person also stopped petting.

If the dog sat or laid down, though, the person switched to two hands, and again petted for up to two minutes.

Within 5-20 minutes, all the dogs were sitting or lying down to solicit the students’ affection. And perhaps because there weren’t many contextual hints that the students were capital-T Trainers—no treats, clickers, or other special equipment—Rosales-Ruiz says the dogs quickly learned to respond the same way to shelter volunteers and potential adopters. We might guess that from the dog's perspective, anyone with hands might have been able to offer this reinforcer.

2. USE THE REINFORCER TO TEACH MORE BEHAVIOR. When the dogs would remain lying or seated for the full two minutes, the students switched to petting for 15-30 seconds, with very brief pauses (3-5 seconds at first) to allow the dog to choose to remain in position and “ask” for more. They began to use this interaction as a reinforcer to teach the dogs to stay for longer stretches, and while the person stood up, walked away, or entered/exited the kennel. All of these human behaviors evolved into environmental cues for the relaxed behavior. (Think about how handy that would be at home.)

To help clarify when the dog had met the current criteria, they incorporated a marker signal, equivalent to the clicker or “yes” frequently used in training with food to signal that reinforcement is on its way. For this, they chose a hand motion that looked like the beginning stages of reaching toward the dog. This ritualized motion—which civilians would be likely to do anyway as they went to pet the dog—could be consciously used to mark any other behavior the trainer liked, letting the dog know exactly what he’d done right and increasing that behavior in the future.

Some students played with this with their dogs at home to great effect as well, using the protocol to teach them in small, achievable steps to remain relaxed while they added distractions like plucking a harness off the hook by the front door, exercising on the floor, or leaving the room.

When the dogs were adopted, the new owners were offered a class in which the procedure was taught to them. In a HALO seminar, Rosales-Ruiz showed some impressive video of the dogs sitting and lying down patiently in an outdoor ring amid other dogs, adults, and children during class.

The students are reportedly in the process of building a website to share the protocol with more shelters and pet owners. In the meantime, this video is the only thing I've found available to link to.

I haven't used this protocol exclusively, like the students did, to train multiple behaviors, but I haven't been at all surprised to find that it works well in reducing vertical greetings that have been inadvertently reinforced by human attention. And it has definitely changed the way I pet, specifically the duration. It has helped me find petting routines that my own dog, who has historically walked away from casual touch, finds reinforcing.

There are also some takeaways here that are bigger than any single protocol: (1) The individual dog decides what is reinforcing, or in other words, what is worth behaving for. Food isn't a reinforcer just because the bag says TREATS, and a pat on the face isn't reinforcing just because dogs enjoy some forms of human touch. (2) If you can observe what a dog is working to get, and you can give him same thing after a behavior you like better, you've struck gold.

This post was originally written for One Tail at a Time. It has since been revised and updated.