I’ve learned over the years with dogs that when the human is getting lazy about training, doing it wrong, or getting smug, the dog will let you know quickly.  If you are listening, you will consider your training approach. I think Fate may have become a teenager on Friday, she changed abruptly and suddenly, ignored commands, drove us crazy and endangered herself two or three times.

Her rebellion began in the woods – she always stays close to us, comes when called, walks with us. Friday, that changed. She ran in circles, began obsessively wolfing down animal droppings, refused to come when called, went off on her own and didn’t respond, at least at first. She didn’t run off, but she didn’t come when called either.

Suddenly, she was making her own rules, and ignoring ours.

We noticed she was behaving differently, almost rebelliously, although I have learned not to think that way about dogs, it gets the human angry and attributes to dogs motives they don’t really have. Dogs are usually not defying us, it is almost always our fault for not communicating with them well and training them consistently.

We did fail in that. We were taken aback when the men came to fix the septic tank, Fate pushed opened the door, rushed out to greet, ran towards the road. She refused to come when called, jumped on the workers and their equipment. She ran to the pasture gate and would not come back, she slipped under the gate trying to get to the sheep, she ran away from the door three times in a row when we tried to bring her again.

Once, she rushed over as a tractor moved, once she jumped on one of the workers and almost pushed him into some dirt mounds.

She was almost frenzied, wild-eyed and unresponsive, as if she didn’t hear us, or perhaps suddenly got frightened by something we had done. She drove us crazy all day. She wouldn’t come off the sheep, respond to “that’ll do,” come when called. At least a half-dozen times, she got near the house door, then suddenly turned and bolted in one direction or another when we tried to bring her outside.

I had gotten smug about Fate, she was doing so well. Smugness is the cardinal sin in dog training, next to anger and emotionalizing.  There are no good and bad dogs, only dogs that are bred and trained well and those that are not. Don’t put our motives into their heads.

Maria and I were angry, exhausted and unnerved. My ego was bruised, I pride myself on training, I wasn’t prepared for chasing Fate around the yard all day while she blew me off. What was going on?

But I woke up and used my head. I stopped yelling at  Fate, put her in her crate with a bone, and then I sat down to think about my training. First.  I had to do what the TV trainers never do, admit my own imperfections and mistakes. We were messing up. I was messing up. I know better.

Fate may, in fact, have reached a dog equivalent of teenage adolescence, a kind of rebellion well known to trainers. Her body is changing, she is getting more assertive with the sheep, challenging them. She was aroused by the woods, by our shouting, by the herding training, by the strangers digging up the yard. Border collies, like many breeds,  are always evolving, they are hyper-sensitive to their environments, they change constantly, they are intelligent and often driven by fierce instincts,  and it is easy to mess them up with lazy or bad training.

I know, I’ve done it.

So I took responsibility and asked myself what I was doing wrong rather than squawk about what she was doing wrong.  Why is it so hard for people to admit the mistakes they make with dogs? Too many dog owners are know-it-alls and blowhards, they love to go on Facebook and tell other people what to do. They always have the answers but never seem to admit confusion or error. I hope to never be that arrogant.

I am not a perfect anything, I am only human, and none of us are perfect.Training a dog well is a complex, time-consuming and challenging thing. If you don’t take it seriously, it will haunt you. And the dog will suffer the most. You will make many mistakes, the challenge is to accept that and learn from them, not to blame the dog or pretend to be perfect.

I had gotten lazy. I had stopped working on some basic obedience commands. I had stopped training daily. It was going too well.   Fate is instantly obedient when training with me and the sheep, and always came when called. She has almost never been on a leash or needed one. But something had changed, and I might never know what it is – my first guess was that her instincts are maturing and deepening, she was testing me and Maria. You never ask a dog to do anything if you aren’t certain of your ability to guarantee the results – just like a good lawyer will never ask a question he or she doesn’t know the answer to.

I suddenly was yelling at her, when you are yelling at the dog, you are in trouble, something is wrong inside of you. And you will fail.

I had stopped bringing treats, gotten erratic about obedience training, gotten into the habit of sometimes bullying her rather than training her. This brought results, although messy ones.  Fate is a very dominant and independent dog, good traits in a sheepdog, rough on the trainer. I had to outthink her and call on the better parts of me. I went into my high training gear, called on my intuition, communicating, even visualizations. And, of course food. Fate pays attention to food.

This morning, I took her out on a long leash, went into the yard with her. I got cheerful and calm and made her lie down every few minutes, brought pumpkin-flavored treats and reinforced her lie-downs and stays. These positions calm the dog down, make even dominant dogs like Fate more submissive and responsive. They feel more vulnerable in a lie-down and are rarely dominant or aggressive in that position.

I walked her back and forth through the door and I saw she was anxious when she came to the door. Something about going inside had clearly frightened her. I didn’t know what, I didn’t see anything. But it might have been something inside the house, or a noise the septic people made with their tractor and pounding.  I did remember tripping and falling into Fate as she came in the house the other day, she started and looked frightened. It might have been that, if she thought she was being punished for coming inside. That could have affected her. I could never be sure.

But she was also defying us in the woods, and by the gate to the pasture.

I unleashed her, put a fistful of treats in my hand, make sure she saw them. We walked out of the door, then back inside. When she got inside, she sat down and waited for a treat, which she got,  along with a new command: “Good House.” I also kept saying “Go To The House” when we left the pasture. We did this for five minutes, four or five times today. I opened the door, called her in, and once inside, she turned to me eagerly and waited for a treat, which she got. “Good House.” She seemed to almost instantly forget what  had alarmed her about coming through the door, what had caused her to run away and bolt.

She is quick, responsive to training when it is clear and good. She wants to please. Mostly.

I did calming training and obedience training two or three times. I spoke softly and clearly to her. But also confidently. I adjusted my emotions. I was firm but quiet. I meant it, and she sensed that, and settled down, got more business like. Her whole demeanor changed. It was as if she remembered working with me. The food didn’t hurt either. When some people came by, I stood in front of her, made her stay, praised her. She stayed, she didn’t jump on them or run to them, although she nearly melted with wiggling.

I reminded myself not to emotionalize her behavior, not to project the wide range of human neuroses and sicknesses onto her.  She did not decide to defy me, she was not rebelling against me, although it looked like that. Dogs don’t have human style motives, they don’t make moral decisions, they don’t have the language or narrative for that, they are not jerks like we often are. When there is a problem like that, it is almost invariably the failure of the human to do their work and communicate clearly, calmly and consistently. I frequently forget to do this, but I am alert to the dog reminding me, they will always do it.

The training manuals often forget that some of us are busy and distracted, we have children, jobs, demanding lives. We can’t be watching and thinking all of the time. We need to ease up on ourselves, dogs are adaptable and eager to please, given the chance. Mistakes will not undo them if they are sound of breeding and socializing, only chronic abuse and mistreatment.

By the afternoon, Fate had calmed down and was responding well and instantly.  She had reverted back to her earlier behavior. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.

Dogs need to be trained, they need to understand that they are not responsible for everything,  and they need to know what is being asked of them. Training is the language through which we help them live safely and harmoniously in our world. I didn’t love Fate too much yesterday, I love her a ton today. Maria didn’t want to be near her yesterday, she did today. Nobody wants to live with a dog in chaos or frustration.

This is true of all dogs, but it is especially true of working dogs like border collies. Fate may be in charge of the sheep, but she can never be charge of me. That is far too dangerous for the dog in our world. Fate does not ever go out the door ahead of me unless I give her permission to do so. She must obey when asked. Every time.  Training is not an occasional thing, it needs to be reinforced and considered constantly and throughout the life of the dog.

When the shit hits the fan, the guru’s books and videos rarely help. Cesar has no chapter on border collies running towards septic workers, he does not know you, your dog, your neighborhood or your emotions. It’s my job to figure it out when things go wrong, to put together a program and strategy that works, and if it doesn’t work, to come up with another one that does.

I saw once again yesterday that training is not really about obedience, it is about the clarity, thoughtfulness, resourcefulness and empathy of the human. Training breeds a partnership, not a prisoner of war relationship. It is based on trust, positive reinforcement (I am never 100 per cent positive, that is not in me) and understanding.

I re-dedicate myself to doing well by this remarkable animal, she deserves no less. Having a dog is a big responsibility, it is not only about love or rescue or cuddling. It is much more than that.

Someone asked me what the biggest obstacle is to training a dog? Two things, I said. The human ego – how dare they ignore me? And the arrogance of the human species: because we love them, they must be just like us.  So we presume they understand what we are asking, or perhaps, they are too frail and piteous or abused to be trained at all.

This is a formula for training disaster. It is a grave disservice to dogs. They are nothing like us, and the pathway to training is to reminder that, every day of their lives.

Fate gave me a wake-up call