If You Can't Beat Them... Join Them

The great squirrel saga and lessons in positive reinforcement

In college, I had the most brilliant little border collie mix who I like to tell people was my smartest roommate. My sophomore year I lived in a house with eight guys, I know right? Of all the roommates she was by far the most clever. She would outsmart them daily. For some reason, the house we were renting in our college town did not have screens so the open pantry was often raided by local squirrels who would come in the house and help themselves to my roommates' Oreos. My dog decided while we were in class she would take it upon herself to set an ambush for those darn squirrels. She tried different strategies, standing in plain sight as a deterrent, lying and waiting to let them come closer so she could get real close, but they knew they'd better be on their toes if they came around looking to score some snacks. Risk vs reward for these bold campus critters. Everyone in the house appreciated her efforts. Chasing squirrels evolved from her self-appointed job into her passion.

Many years later, when living in Seattle in an apartment, chasing squirrels became her favorite activity during our walks. People around the apartment were leaving out peanuts to lure them in close so they were always nearby. At first, it was cute, and then it started to get old. Our walks became rather frustrating, especially for my then girlfriend, soon fiancé, and later wife, Rebecca. She became afraid to walk her, worried that her sudden pulling efforts might injure Rebecca's shoulder or pull her over. This dog was only 42 pounds at her heaviest, however, she brought a level of intensity to this activity starting with a spontaneous dash that would have impressed any Olympic sprinter toward any furry creature that dared cross her path.

I moved to Washington to do an apprenticeship on dog behavior and training. Despite everything I was learning at the time, I was inadequate to deal with this situation. I simply managed it with my strength. I switched her from a flat buckle collar to her harness that clipped on her chest, which made it more manageable for about a year. But the behavior intensified. The variability of the squirrels' appearance only intensified the hunt.

I would read in books that dogs struggled to commit things to their memory, that they needed several repetitions, but what I was experiencing didn't match what I was learning from my studies. If we came out of the apartment and there was a squirrel scurrying atop of the little 4-foot fence that ran parallel to our parking lot, she would be in hot pursuit and then she would look for that squirrel in that spot every time she came out of the building. It took a single high-arousal event for her to commit it to her memory, combined with her unwavering optimism and lust for life. She never gave up hope they would be there. It was like watching a child play Whack-A-Mole at the arcade. She knew if she just watched the proverbial hole, that tree mole would appear one day and she would be ready.

During my apprenticeship to become a trainer, I would lean on the council of the elders, and now this is a long time ago, so I'm sad to say most of the advice I got was out dated and very punitive. Everybody suggested painful collars, setting her up to fail and lighting her up with punishment. You should know, even though I didn't have the experience of the facility and staff, my instincts were good. I knew I loved this dog and that my way of teaching her something wasn't going to be by scaring or hurting her. So I came up with something else. I said to myself "if you can't beat her, join her".