Each installment of The Dog Whisperer begins with the
caution, “Don’t try this at home.” From there, Cesar Millan proceeds to
get heavy with animals plagued by a variety of disorders. Some are
vicious; others are shy, and many are afflicted with bizarre phobias,
such as Kane, the Great Dane who grew terrified of linoleum floors.
Tapping into the tough approach that brought him fame and riches,
Millan forced the tremulous, 160-pound dog to roam a linoleum-floored
hallway until Kane seemed, finally, to calm.
Millan can rightfully claim credit for prodding dogs such as Kane
through their traumas. Where the trainer draws considerable fire,
however, is in his one-size-fits-all, domination-oriented approach to
canine control. Too often, say critics such as the American Humane
Association, Millan is over-reliant on shock collars and pinning the
dogs down by their necks. One nationally recognized veterinarian, from
the famed Animal Behavior Clinic at Tufts University, accused Millan of
“setting dog training back 20 years.”
While Millan’s approach has landed him gobs of press, the take-home
message remains troubling: Must all dog owners manhandle their peaceful
pooches into submission?
My answer? Skip the trendy Millan, and pick up a copy of Am I
Boring My Dog? And 99 Other Things Every Dog Wishes You Knew.
Authored by pet specialist and longtime Tucsonan Edie Jarolim, this
smart and funny book replaces hype with refreshing common sense. Don’t
be deceived by its airy, entertaining tone; Jarolim is serious about
dogs, and her book is, too. It’s a mark of her skill that you come away
with more doggie knowledge than you’d bargained for, all expertly
tucked among the chuckles.
Within these pages, we meet Frankie, Jarolim’s rescue pup and
four-legged muse. Together, they address some of the more ticklish
aspects of contemporary dog ownership, from the tricks of pet
travel—Jarolim is widely known as an ace travel writer—to
gauging whether your canine obsession borders on the pathological.
Consider the section titled, “Am I using my dog as a substitute for
my kids who left for college?”
Answer: “Yes. And why do you think this is a problem?” Jarolim
writes. “When did your children last take long walks with you, listen
to you without interrupting to ask for money, and fail to criticize
your clothing choices?”
Readers will also find plenty of easily digestible tips for new dog
owners and owners-to-be. This is key, because you quickly sense that
Jarolim’s primary goal is avoiding the mistakes that land far too many
animals in the shelter.
This underlies important points in the first chapter, appropriately
titled “So You Think You Want a Dog.” Topics range from, “What’s the
best age at which to get a dog?” to, “What if I get a dog who doesn’t
like me?”
There are also sections on health care, food and grooming, and
another devoted to behavior and bonding with your pet.
In the section, “I’m okay with my dog’s behavior. Why bother with
anything beyond housetraining?” the author lists several serious
reasons for training. They include teaching Fido to come on command
(“You may think your dog would never run out into traffic …”) and
keeping your friends. (“Just because your dog’s eating habits don’t
disturb you, others won’t necessary appreciate your pup jumping up on
the table and grazing from their plates at dinner parties.”)
My only criticism is that this section doesn’t go far enough in
addressing the remarkably bad behavior many dog owners seem either to
relish or ignore. Then there’s the subject of unrequited dog poop that
abounds in our fair city.
But perhaps that’s beyond the narrow mission of this clever, concise
book, which should be mandatory reading for anyone planning to adopt a
pooch and keep it off the adoption line.
Meanwhile, those tiring of Millan might enjoy Jarolim’s take on
discipline. “Theories aside,” she writes, “the more that professional
dog trainers used the reward system, the more they discovered that it
worked, that it worked long-term, and that it didn’t pose dangers to
owners—as punishment-based training often does. Performing the
much-publicized alpha role, for example, is a good way to provoke a dog
into biting your face off.”
This article appears in Nov 26 – Dec 2, 2009.
First, as the author of Am I Boring My Dog, I’m really grateful for this thoughtful review. Of course, Tim Vanderpool is a great defender of animals — his investigative work on the greyhound track is especially outstanding — so it’s no surprise that he really “got” my book.
I just wanted to emphasize that the methods that Millan uses are not only dangerous, but are often ineffective in the long run. And they are definitely not conducive to fostering good relationships — based on communication, not force — between dog and owner. For example, Kane, the Great Dane that’s “cured” of his linoleum phobia in the example cited above. The technique Millan uses is called “flooding” by animal behaviorists; it’s similar to putting arachnophobes into a room full of spiders. Professional trainers who look at the film of the episode note that, rather than being calmed, Kane has shut down, the canine equivalent of catatonia. There are other methods that are far less harmful (desensitizing, for example) to cure dogs of their phobias. Millan shouldn’t get credit for using outdated methods — based, incidentally, on outdated wolf pack studies — to get results that look good on TV but are actually traumatic.