Zani, the black dog, was taking fluoxetine and diazepam at the time of this photo and all photos in this post
Products that purport to help dogs with fear and anxiety have an interesting thing in common. Their marketing almost always portrays dogs lying down. Just check out their featured images: snoozing pups. It seems that lying down, looking drowsy and relaxed, is the goal. But the opposite of fear or anxiety is not sleep.
Zani, on behavioral medication, was on leash in the yard because she wanted to raid a robin’s nest
You know what dogs free from fear or anxiety do? Well, lots of things!
They may:
play with their human or dog friends
sniff
chase varmints
chew
dig
solicit petting from their humans
countersurf
learn tricks
hang around humans who are eating, making googly eyes
enjoy a walk
play agility
But we don’t usually see photos of these activities. We see dogs lying down with implied ZZZs floating above their heads.
As a person who has had two dogs with phobias, I understand. It is far better to see them resting than shivering and drooling miserably. It’s a way for companies to portray (usually untruthfully) that their product “cures” anxiety. But you know what’s even better: dogs going about their normal life without fear.
Many of these products exploit owners’ nervousness about behavioral medications and vilify them. But thoughtfully chosen and carefully administered medications are one of the interventions for dogs with extreme fear that is most likely to help (Riemer, 2023). These sellers imply or claim outright that such meds create zombie dogs. Then, ironically, many post images of dogs that look sedated to sell their own products.
Zani learning a trick (cross your paws) while on behavioral meds
Zani was on behavioral meds at the time I filmed this agility video. Sound on for the full effect.
Zani’s not the only one. Check out this thread from the Fearful Dogs group on Facebook: This is my dog on drugs. Note how many dogs in the 92 comments are not sleeping.
Relief for the Human
If my dog is anxiously pacing, even trembling or drooling, then starts to calm and lies down, what do I feel? As a person who loves my dog and wants her to be happy and comfortable, I feel relief. Whew! She is lying down; she must feel better.
Zani digging with her pal while on behavioral meds
This relief can also happen when an animal hides. I’ve written a post about the myth that hiding animals are comfortable and their needs taken care of. Something I didn’t mention is that when an animal hides, we can’t see their distress. Out of sight, out of mind. If we can’t see their suffering, we feel relief. And the corollary with product marketing is that if a dog is lying down being quiet, we can believe they feel fine.
I am not condemning this response of relief. When our beloved pet is distressed and we can’t help them, it can be agonizing. The weeks before Zani got medical help for her generalized anxiety and panic disorder in 2016 were among the saddest of my life.
But there is a grim side. This advertising has a secondary purpose. Again, sleep is not the opposite of fear. But you could fairly call sleep the opposite of overarousal or hyperactivity. Countless images of sleeping dogs may serve to persuade owners that they won’t be bothered by their dogs if they buy the product.
I believe most people who buy products to help their fearful or phobic dogs do it out of love. They want their dogs to be happy and free of fear. But a person can have more than one motivation. Someone who is threatened by their landlord about their barking dog needs a solution, quick. Someone who is sleep deprived because their dog paces and whimpers all night needs desperately for the dog to calm down. Someone who didn’t plan for their life with their dog to be like this and is out of patience just wants their dog to stop already.
Marketers for bogus products prey on these people. Their goal is to to convince potential customers that the product will solve their problems (and that they should buy it right now!). Pictures of sleeping dogs are potent. It would be one thing if the products worked to trigger that response. But the sound, music, and many other products have no evidential support for their claims.
For comparison: commercials for psychiatric meds for humans don’t show them lying down and sleeping. They walk around parks, play tennis, visit with their children or grandchildren, blow out candles at their birthday parties. They look (rather obnoxiously) happy and engaged. So why do we want our dogs asleep, again?
Zani squeaking a Kong Wubba while on behavioral meds
Sedation
With all my photos of an active dog on behavior meds, and my complaints about “sleeping dog” marketing, you may get the impression that I am against sedation. I am not. Here is my own real-life “sleeping dog” photo. This was Lewis’ first Independence Day after he started to suffer from sound phobia. He had been on maintenance medications for six months and I had continued to countercondition to sudden noises. He was doing very well with day-to-day sounds. But I knew my neighborhood’s “hours o’ fireworks” would be too much for him. I gave him, per my vet’s recommendation, a medication that helped him relax and sleep. I was also employing sound masking: a dryer recording, a fan, and some “busy” music without changes in volume. He could still function. He was happy to get up and interact with his people or go outside for a bathroom break. But after that, he would go back to sleep. It was a mercy for him.
Lewis after taking a sedating medication on U.S. Independence Day
But sedation is not my ultimate goal. I believe it’s far better for a dog’s fear to be addressed in ways that allow them to live their normal life, as you can see in the images and the movie of Zani above.
It would be better still if these phony products that claim to cure anxiety and phobias in dogs would knock it off with their manipulative and exploitative practices. Countless dogs suffer because of delays in reaching evidence-based interventions as their people go down the ratholes of internet marketing.
Related Resources and Posts
Sound Decisions and Listen Up (My sound webinars analyze sound-related products for dogs by citing scientific evidence)
Lewis finding an elevated hide in a setup with decent traction (more mats would be better)
This post is in the “I was wrong” category because the embedded video includes practices that were unsafe for the dog. I didn’t know better at the time. I know better now, and I believe in being transparent about the learning process.
I looked at an old video of mine on YouTube with new eyes, and even though I love it, I feel it’s irresponsible to leave it publicly accessible without annotations. My practices were unsafe. I can’t find the original anymore, so I can’t upload an annotated version.
The old video features Cricket at 15 years old when I first introduced her to searching for food in boxes. I can’t bear to delete it, so I am changing it to Unlisted and featuring it in this post. Hopefully, my mistake can help others and their dogs.
Learning about Nosework
Zani was about 70% beagle and 30% Russell terrier
I went to a two-day seminar in 2011 with the founding members of NACSW and took my sniffy dog Zani. I loved the seminar and was thrilled to see what our dogs could do. I started setting up box searches at home for all my dogs. That’s when I made the video in this post.
A year or two later, I took a weeks-long course on nosework from some well-known instructors, and worked with non-food odor, adding another layer to my education. I didn’t pursue training with odor much beyond that course, other than teaching Clara to find a lost item with my hand scent on it. But my interest, and especially my dogs’ interest, remained, so I did nosework games at home.
Recently, I signed up for Kate Woods’ Scent Skills 101 online course. I wanted something fun to do with Lewis. My energy for training has decreased over the last couple of years, and I do well with some structure, like a lot of us. I knew I would love the course because I love anything Kate does, but I was blown away. First, the way they structure the course is a big-picture view of scentwork and centers on concepts (see the course page), but with exercises and very concrete, specific advice on each one. It’s appropriate for someone who is preparing to compete as well as for someone like me, who plans activities at home and wants to branch out from the ones we already do.
Second, Kate’s focus on safety, both physical and psychological, for the dogs, is front and center. Kate works with a lot of dogs with physical limitations, illnesses, and, of course, fears. They describe how to create safe setups. They remind us in every lesson to “Take care of your dog’s feelings!” and go over the various needs individual dogs might have.
Non-Slip Surfaces
Kate’s instructions include, in every lesson, the use of a non-slip surface. In my home, I have mostly hardwood floors and some tile. For years now, I have done any strenuous, active training on a yoga mat or in the yard. The latter is a good choice for a lot of the year, but not right now.
For the scentwork exercises, I brought in another yoga mat and sometimes added a carpet runner as a station for Lewis. I get the mats and runner out and put them back for each session. This is because carpets, throw rugs, and dog mats are statistically a huge risk of causing falls for people my age. On the other hand, secure footing for dogs in their activities is a must.
I can see the benefits of the non-slip surface in Lewis’ posture and movement.
Show and Tell Becomes Stop in My Tracks
I got it in my mind to show Kate the old video below. They have a coated American Hairless Terrier and my dog Cricket was a rat terrier, two breeds that are closer than cousins. As far as I’m concerned, Rory inherited Cricket’s title of Cutest Dog in the World.
Cricket’s direct gaze
So, I recently found my video on YouTube and watched it, anticipating my delight in seeing feisty little Cricket. I filmed the video shortly after returning from the nosework seminar, and at the time was delighted that even my 15-year-old dog could do this thing. (She was already showing early signs of dementia, although I didn’t know it at the time.) But my delight upon revisiting it was mixed with deep concern and chagrin. I thought about what I was seeing, in view of what I have learned in the years since, especially from Lori Stevens, who helped me with appropriate exercise and care after Zani’s injury, and now in Kate’s class.
The activity I set up for Cricket was not safe for her. The floor was slick concrete (my den was a converted garage). The boxes were too tall. From the beginning, she stepped into the boxes with her front feet, which improved the footing for those feet in one way, but left her back legs behind to slide and splay on the concrete. In the video, I refer to her walking into the boxes as a superstitious behavior. But I think she did it at first because of the high walls of the boxes and continued because at least two of her feet were on a better surface. You can watch her back legs throughout the video and see how often they are slipping and sliding. She was on daily carprofen for arthritis.
At the end of the last session shown in the video, Cricket was panting. I acknowledge in the voiceover that this was a hard workout for a senior. But it shouldn’t have been. I wish I had stopped before she got to that point. This was way too much for her. Not to mention that panting can also be a sign of pain or stress.
By following the steps I learned at the seminar, which was compressed for time, I went way too fast with the process. I changed in one session from all boxes having food to only one, then in the next session, scattering the boxes. I have learned better since then, not only from my teacher years ago, who emphasized that the goal was to build behavior, not to “challenge” the dogs, but also in Kate’s course, where they emphasize many easy wins for similar reasons.
I still love seeing Cricket. She was a tiny, bold bulldozer pushing into those boxes for food. And the hell with criteria; I wish I had given her a treat when she got in a box, sat, and looked up at me.
This video is now unlisted. Although the link is accessible, I’d prefer that you link to this post instead, so all viewers will get the context.
Dog Body Language
Dog body language is one of my passions. In the Puppy Socialization book I co-wrote with Marge Rogers, it is a theme throughout the book, and we have an entire chapter full of examples. It is one of the largest categories in this blog, and I also have a curated page dedicated to it. I also have a section in my book on dog dementia about identifying pain in dogs. It will be expanded in the second edition with some new resources.
But even with all that, I seem to classify signs of pain differently in my mind. I have not learned enough about the subtle behaviors linked to pain, even though several times in my life with dogs I have been in the position of trying to figure out whether a dog was hurting, afraid, or both.
I think we don’t see it discussed as much partly because people whose first value is to be kind to their dogs are reasonably averse to posting videos of their dogs in pain on websites or social media. Even if they are seeking information, they risk nasty comments in response to their attempt to help their dogs.
I posted a video of Clara’s progression with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, in which she was in so much pain that it’s hard for me to watch. I did this in the hope that it could bring about awareness of this deadly disease.
So, I’m keeping Cricket’s video up on YouTube, but unlisted. People don’t always read introductions, and I don’t want my bad practices seen as some sort of model, some sort of win, even though that was my feeling back then.
This is an old still of Lewis running, unrelated to the contest
The results are tabulated! I don’t do clickbait, so I’ll tell you here at the beginning that Clip A was the escape clip (see the post title), and Clip B was the “automatic reinforcement” (and possible social reinforcement) clip. Most people picked B as the escape clip, for excellent reasons/observations.
Observations and Interpretations
I was super pleased and impressed that every single person who entered the contest included an astute observation. Every entrant took the question seriously and wrote down something they noticed. And people noticed all sorts of things that I hadn’t. For instance, that the ground looked wet in one clip and not in the other.
Two of the people who chose Clip A noted his lowered tail carriage. That was a good tell for him, but it’s so dog-dependent! Because I know him, I can recognize that as possibly meaning, “Something’s wrong with my butt!” Good catch, you two!
Many people found it significant that Lewis headed toward me at the end of Clip A and drew various conclusions from that. That was my bad. I tried to make the clips of similar lengths and had to edit Clip B a lot since it was longer and had some pretty obvious “tells” in it. I didn’t want to edit down Clip A much. But leaving in that approach was a mistake, since Lewis approached me at the true end of Clip B as well.
The other thing I regret relating to Clip B was using the words joy and eustress vs. distress. I should have stuck with “automatically reinforced.” Lewis was certainly having some kind of fun in the non-escape clip, but if I’m going to draw conclusions about his inner state, I think I would’ve been more accurate to call it “bratty fun” than “joy.” You’ll see that when you look at the whole clip.
Finally, many people noticed the tension in his face in Clip B and named that the escape clip. He did indeed have a lot of tension in his face. That is typical for him in any aroused situation. And if we speculate further, this could also have been a less obvious “escape” clip, in the sense that when running, he might have been seeking relief from social pressure, for instance.
Here’s a photo of Lewis with a tense face.
I could never use it for a contest, because no one could guess what activity was going on. Lewis and I were doing our greeting routine after I got home. He is a frenzied greeter. For greetings, I guide him to the back of the couch, where he can get up to my face level. It’s clear he is very, very glad I am home. But he gets aroused, so his face looks like this some of the time.
I have observed tension in his face in many situations that likely have a positive emotional valence. The question in my mind is why his face is comparatively relaxed in the poop clip.
The Clips
Here are the full clips that the shortened ones for the contest came from. Well, almost full because I didn’t show the poopy butt.
One reason I chose to make a contest from these two clips is that I could determine, with a fair amount of accuracy, what the function of the running was in one clip, the escape clip. Before he started running, he had pooped, then dragged his butt on the ground and mouthed at his rear with growing agitation. I saw the poop on his butt. So, I felt I could safely state that he was either trying to dislodge the poop (escape) or running from the sensation (escape). He had actually done this same routine a few times in the past. He stopped running when the poop was dislodged. But he didn’t succeed on his own this time. He approached me and let me clean up his butt. I am circumspect about declaring function, but this one was visible.
The clip that I determined was non-escape was more of a reach on my part. I should have stuck with calling it automatic reinforcement, since that can be positive or negative. And I believe it had a strong social aspect. Some people mentioned he was “orbiting” the area where I was. Great observation! Also, two other dogs were with me. In the full clip, you’ll see that he both started there and ended there by the hole in the ground. He didn’t dig this time, but loved to dig in that hole, especially when Clara had been digging, then go tearing around the yard.
The Winners!
Out of 31 entries, 5 guessed the correct clip (A). If nobody had, I would’ve given up contests for good. (I might anyway!) I used the Wheel of Names to pick two winners; they are Amy B. and Bonnie T.
I have emailed you two!
Thanks to everyone who entered. You are all astute observers!
The contest deadline has passed; I will publish the results in another post.
It’s been 12 years since I had a contest, and I’ve learned a little since then. Back in 2013, I challenged people to match a ridiculous number of photos to descriptions of the situation by observing my dog Summer’s facial expressions. Some truly good sports gave it a try.
Let’s see if I can do a better job. This contest is different, a comparison of two videos of the same dog with but one question to answer. I have no idea how hard it will be since I have the Curse of Knowledge, but at least it isn’t 31 photos with insufficient context!
These are all avoidance behaviors. They may or may not be fallout.
To email subscribers: I have changed my notification service again, which means that you may have to unsubscribe again if you did so from the previous email. I apologize. I hate bothering people. I am now locked into a service for a year so this won’t likely happen again.
I propose that “fallout” may be in the eyes of the beholder. I know that sounds weird, but bear with me and see what you think.
Over 10 years ago, I published a blog page on fallout from the use of aversives in training. It lists definitions and descriptions of the types of fallout that can result from aversive use, all with citations from the literature. It’s a simple page, and a popular one.
But I didn’t define fallout. It wasn’t until recently that I realized I had missed that very important point.
So let’s go!
Definition of Fallout
I couldn’t find a definition in any behavior science textbook, and I think I know why. I’ll get to that later. For now, here is a dictionary definition, which references physics.
Fallout 1. a : the often radioactive particles stirred up by or resulting from a nuclear explosion and descending through the atmosphere also : other polluting particles (such as volcanic ash) descending likewise b : descent (as of fallout) through the atmosphere
2 : a secondary and often lingering effect, result, or set of consequences
Murray Sidman
Dr. Murray Sidman popularized the term “fallout” in behavior science in his book, Coercion and Its Fallout (1989). I couldn’t find substantial references to the term in the literature before that. (Someone please correct me if I’m wrong.) He used the term in the sense of the second definition above, but he referenced the first definition. The usage spread across the behavior world.
The following is the closest I could find to an actual definition in Sidman’s book.
A nuclear explosion’s side effects—the extensive radioactive fallout—cause both immediate and long-delayed, but lasting human misery. The suffering that the fallout produces overwhelms any positive benefits of a victory that nuclear warfare accomplishes. The side effects of punishment, too, far from being secondary, often have considerably greater behavioral significance than the hoped for “main effects.” — Sidman, 1989, p. 81
I think it’s accurate to characterize fallout as “side effects.” Sidman emphasized the “long-lasting” part.
Side effect : a secondary and usually adverse effect (as of a drug)
Note that Dr. Sidman’s book was aimed at lay people. It has few references and no reference list, and although it uses some technical language, it’s conversational and full of examples that apply to everyday life.
I’m going to start with one of my own.
An Example of Behavioral Fallout
This is a hard story to tell.
When I was in a Novice obedience class with my dog Summer many years ago, the instructors set up an exercise based on the training methods of the Volhards. We were to heel our dogs by a man who would wave a treat at them. If the dog turned to go for the food, we were to pop their collar with a jerk of the leash. The goal was to punish moving out of position when faced with a tempting distraction. (I won’t editorialize about the fact that we hadn’t taught our dogs yet not to take available food.)
I did as told. Summer yelped and cringed when I popped her collar. I felt awful and didn’t want to do the exercise a second time, but, to my everlasting shame, I did. The second time, Summer’s body language wilted when she saw the man, and she dodged behind me and moved to my right side to avoid him. I was heartbroken and full of guilt that she trusted me to protect her when I was the one who had hurt her. I walked her away from the man. This experience was a turning point in my training. I could not and would not do that again.
Let’s allow poor Summer’s story to help us with analysis. The intent of the exercise was 1) for the dog to learn to stay in heel position because 2) the behavior of moving toward a distraction was punished. The latter was successful. Summer didn’t go for the food the second time. But Summer did not stay in heel position either, which was the overall goal. The fallout, the “unintended side effects,” were avoidance that took her out of heel position and an enduring fear of the man who had held the treat. Besides the obvious tragedy for my dog, fear of a man standing in a competition ring is not a sought-after situation. This was clearly unintended by the instructors as well.
For an example of more extreme fallout, check out this post.
Yes, those are toothmarks on Coercion and Its Fallout
Distinguishing between Sidman’s “Main Effects” and Fallout
Now here’s an odd thing. As positive reinforcement-based trainers, we may conflate the direct, “successful” punishment of a behavior with fallout, because they often look the same. We’re actually not wrong. Often, they are the same—the same behavior. We don’t intend to use positive punishment, but sometimes it happens by accident. We may see, as a result, avoidance behaviors that we did not intend. The difference between an “effect” and a “side effect” is intent.
Let’s say Lucine decides to use an indoor invisible shock barrier to prevent her dog, Jackson, from coming through the kitchen doorway during food prep and human mealtimes. (In case it’s not clear, this is an awful idea.) Jackson quickly learns that going through the doorway results in a shock. His behavior of walking through the doorway decreases. We would see avoidance of the doorway, Sidman’s “main effect” of the punishment.
But Jackson might also stop going through the kitchen doorway even when invited—a side effect. Lucine intended for Jackson to stay away only during human mealtimes, but Jackson won’t go near the door anytime. This could be characterized as fallout. It’s the same avoidance behavior, but it was unintended. I think this is why fallout is not a defined term in behavior science; determining whether a behavior is “intended” or “unintended,” or even whether it is adverse, is subjective. Even Sidman didn’t use “fallout” in his myriad scholarly papers.
Some of the more brutal trainers on social media don’t seem to care at all when a dog is trembling or cowering in fear. We’d call that fallout, but they probably wouldn’t. Someone who values shut-down dogs will find this fallout acceptable, even desirable.
Going further with Jackson: other examples of fallout in this situation could be if he refused to walk through other doorways or walk on flooring that resembled the tile in Lucine’s kitchen. If Lucine was standing near the doorway a few times when Jackson was shocked, then he might avoid her as well. More behaviors than just walking through Lucine’s kitchen doorway were punished.
This fallout is an example of generalization of avoidance, #1 on my list from the fallout from aversives page.
The above is a true story with the names changed. Jackson also developed stress colitis that strongly correlated with the use of the indoor shock—more fallout. This would correlate with #7 on the fallout list: injury. The correlation with the shock was strong: his colitis resolved whenever he was boarded away from home.
Balanced Trainers and Fallout
I looked for discussion online by balanced trainers who might be concerned about fallout from aversive methods. I found one mention, an instruction about how to use aversives without sending dogs into learned helplessness. But instead, I found many trainers claiming there were terrible problems (fallout) caused by positive reinforcement-based training.
We’ve all seen those arguments. I tried to find specifics from them about why a specific training method caused a specific problem behavior. I didn’t find any such specificity. Just general complaints about “permissiveness” and claims that the balanced folks were the saviors of all the dogs the “purely positive” folks had damaged.
So Is There Fallout from Positive Reinforcement?
Is there fallout from positive reinforcement in the sense I talk about above? Behavioral side effects of positive reinforcement training? Maybe even negative ones?
There can be unintended effects. Please read on. If you are like me, they are not what you might have assumed.
There is an interesting article that talks about the “parallel” side effects of aversive and appetitive stimuli/training (Balsam & Bondy, 1983). In the article, they list, with citations, many documented side effects of aversive control. Then they go through these side effects and identify parallels/opposites as side effects of appetitive control.
Before I go on, there is also an excellent rebuttal to this article by Epstein (1985), who points out the authors’ logical fallacy of claiming that the effects of reinforcement and punishment are parallel. According to Epstein, if they were truly parallel, then reinforcement should have positive (as in desirable) side effects, not negative. But I do appreciate their lists of side effects, however we characterize them.
Here’s one example: a classic side effect of aversive use is avoidance. Avoidance of the aversive stimulus itself, the person associated with it, the location, etc. The parallel side effect of appetitive use is approach. Organisms move toward appetitive stimuli (or, if they’re not mobile, have another strategy that brings the stimuli close to them). It’s hard to think of approach as a bad thing. So many of us who own or work with fearful dogs are delighted when we build positive enough associations that the animal will approach.
But approach, especially persistent approach, can be a training challenge.
You see this with trainers who work with zoo animals, equines, or larger dogs. An experienced zoo trainer will teach the big (or prickly, or toothsome) animal in protected contact, maintaining that setup as long as necessary for safety. A skilled positive reinforcement-based equine trainer will teach a horse not to mug and push for the food—first thing. They may also start in protected contact.
You will also see methods by wildlife rehabbers to prevent animals from learning to associate humans with available food. If an animal is to be released, we don’t want it to get attracted to humans. Rehabbers have various mechanisms to prevent the “person predicts food” association. Approach to humans by many wild animals can lead to their quick injury or death.
The images below show a more ordinary problem. This was young Lewis’ first full day in my home. He was desperately needy and trying to figure out how to get positive attention. The Balsam & Bondy article mentions “clinginess” as a problem associated with approach. This was a problem—for about a day. That’s how long it took him to learn how to interact in a way that works better for humans and got him access to the attention and goodies he craved. This is not comparable to the long-term side effects of aversive use discussed by Sidman.
Persistent approach might be good or bad, depending on the trainer’s goals and the stage of the training. This means that I disagree with the title of the Balsam & Bondy article, “The Negative Side Effects of Reward,” (1983) and agree with Epstein’s opinion. But even with those disagreements, the article is worth reading. It has a unique comparison of some effects of appetitive and aversive training. And a bonus: this article, like several others, does not say what the anti-positive reinforcement crowd implies it does because of the title. It’s good to get acquainted with the content.
I said there were “unintended” side effects. That’s true for a lot of us. But the really great trainers know to expect them, and they use them as part of their training plans from the beginning.
Negative, Positive, and Neutral Side Effects
I believe Sidman used the word “fallout” and its intensely negative connotations to communicate with a lay audience. It’s important to keep in mind that avoidance is a functional response. So is generalization of avoidance, which we generally call fallout. But generalization, throwing a wide net of what to avoid, is what allows many wild animals to survive. I would guess that it’s not “fallout” to them.
But wild animals live in a world of many dangers. Our pets and other animals under our care do not (or should not).
I think the main takeaway is that when we are training or interacting with our companion animals, using aversive methods causes suffering—for them. The side effects of positive reinforcement training can be inconvenient at times, generally for us, and they depend on our skill levels. If food is creating unwanted consequences, a skilled trainer can generally use the same food to change the consequences. These side effects need not be long-lasting.
A balanced trainer I met at a trial once complained about my dogs frequently offering behaviors. To me, it’s a good thing; to them it was a negative side effect, a mistake. I wasn’t able to explain then that any positive reinforcement trainer more skilled than I could easily teach their dogs when it’s appropriate to offer behaviors and when it’s not (a.k.a. stimulus control). Again, this is not a long-lasting problem. It’s a training issue that I didn’t choose to address.
Conclusion
So what do you think? I did not expect this outcome when I looked into “fallout.” I thought there would be an operationalizable definition, but I didn’t find one.
Balsam, P. D., & Bondy, A. S. (1983). The negative side effects of reward. Journal of applied behavior analysis, 16(3), 283-296.
Epstein, R. (1985). The positive side effects of reinforcement: A commentary on Balsam and Bondy (1983). Journal of applied behavior analysis, 18(1), 73.
Sidman, M. (1989). Coercion and its fallout. Boston: Authors Cooperative.
In my webinars on dogs and sound, I discuss the glaring inadequacies of the dogs and music studies. The problems are now being covered in detail by scholars in the field as well (Kriengwatana et al., 2022; Kriengwatana et al., 2025; Lindig et al., 2020; Snowdon, 2021). In my opinion, the most important issue is that the studies designed to assess whether dogs benefit from music have used entire pieces of music before testing dogs’ abilities to perceive the basics. Music is complex. No researcher started with simple melodies; no one separately tested whether dogs can distinguish between consonance and dissonance, which is key to the western classical and pop music they usually test. No one separated out rhythm to see what dogs could discern. No one tested to see if there were certain instruments or vocal sounds the dogs responded to. In other words, no one separated the variables. Instead, they compared dogs’ responses to whole playlists of, for example, “classical” music, pop, rock, or reggae.
I write about my life with my dogs and how I strive to give them the best lives I can. I love both training and the theory of it. The training I do is in the service of enrichment for my dogs and making their lives easier in our human world. The training is fun for all of us.
This page is a gateway to a variety of posts selected from the 13 years of the blog’s existence. The images below link to curated lists of posts on some of my favorite topics. They are:
Dog body language
Dogs and sound
Behavior science and research
Fear in dogs (and how we help them with it)
Training
Reader favorites
Each list has 25–35 posts, for 158 posts in all. There are many, many more categories than the six featured here and many more posts and pages (a total of about 470). To see a list of all my posts and pages, check out the Site Map. However, on the site map, each post is listed in only one category, even if it fits several. This is one reason I created these curated categories.
For another view: if you want to see all the posts in (reverse) chronological order, see the Archives in the right sidebar, or just start scrolling down.
My blog is my writing home, and I chronicle my growth as a trainer and my slowly increasing understanding of how learning and behavior work. I have signed the Pro-Truth Pledge, and if I post misinformation, I invite people to call me on it. When I post essays about behavior science, I always have them vetted by experts in the field. My academic expertise is in music and sound, and I’m proud of my Dogs and Sound category.
I have an “I Was Wrong” category, whose entries will undoubtedly continue to grow. Separately, I highlight my (often humorous) errors in training in posts with the “Training Errors” tag.
I have been writing this blog since July 2012 and have published more than 600,000 words. You can learn more about me at my About Eileen page. I was a YouTuber before I started the blog, so many posts include videos. I am privileged that I am not forced to monetize the site, so you will find no pop-ups, third-party ads, or affiliate links. If you are here to read my words, I don’t want anything to get in your way.
I have created a little journal to accompany my book, Remember Me? Loving and Caring fora Dog with Canine Cognitive Dysfunction.
To debut the new journal, I have put all my books on sale at 30% off.
Availability
The paperbacks are available at the sale price only at Amazon, and I’m sorry about that for those who do not support that business. But I also put the ebook of Remember Me on sale on my own website where you can buy it directly from me. Use the coupon code JULYSALE to get the discount. Again, that is the ebook version of my book on canine cognitive dysfunction, not the journal, which doesn’t exist in ebook form.
About the Journal and Who It’s For
The journal is a “perfect” bound paperback, just a regular paperback, with 126 lined pages (see samples below). Half of the lined pages have either prompts, tips, or words of encouragement for people who care for dogs with canine cognitive dysfunction.
I created the journal for people who are new to caring for a dog with dementia and may not have any experience with training or enrichment for dogs in general. The journal includes a list of possible symptoms that can be taken to the owner’s vet, and I gently urge people to track their dogs’ symptoms. It provides a central place for owners to keep notes on their dogs and their own journey. The words of encouragement in the journal pages might be the most important part, because goodness knows how lonely and difficult it can be to care for a beloved but impaired dog.
The journal is not highly structured. It has a three-page intro from me, an “About My Dog” page, and the list of possible symptoms. The rest of the book is lined pages, blank except for the prompts, tips, and encouraging words at the top of the right hand pages.
If it’s financially feasible, I’ll create a spiral-bound version of the journal through another printer, but it will cost significantly more.
If you are looking for a structured journal from a veterinary medical professional to help you care for a senior dog, I recommend Dr. Mary Gardner’s Geriatric Dog Health & Care Journal.
The Sales!
All of my books are currently 30% off until July 17th. See the prices below and click the links to purchase.
There’s a “Look Inside” option at Amazon that lets you see the introduction of the journal. In addition, here are some of the journal pages. Click to enlarge.
Feel free to share this post. I’m sure some of you trainers out there have clients who could benefit from a place to put all their notes about their senior dog.
Imagine that you are in a storm shelter while a tornado passes overhead or close by. Or, god forbid, a bomb shelter during a conflagration. If your shelter had an attractive exterior and some nice amenities inside, like chairs, beds, and lighting, would you stop being afraid of the tornado or the military action going on above or around you? Not likely.
Yet we easily assume, and marketers push the idea, that once a dog is hiding from the thing that scares them, they are relaxed and happy.
Fearful dogs deserve more than a hiding place. Because a hiding dog is a frightened dog. As their friends and protectors, we owe it to them to address the fear.
Owners of fearful dogs are a vulnerable population. They love their dogs and must see them suffer. They experience helplessness and grief. If someone offers a solution, like a product that is purported to fix or at least comfort their dog, if they can afford it, they are usually all in.
I say “they,” but I’m part of this population. In the past, I have bought the products. I bought a compression garment. I bought special music. If people had been marketing “safe haven” hiding enclosures that promised protection and relaxation back then, I might have bought one if I could’ve afforded it.
Hiding Place Products
So many things are marketed to alleviate anxiety and fear these days. Supplements, music, enclosures, dog beds. (Dog beds? Yep. “Anxiety-reducing dog bed!”) Providing products that supposedly “cure” fear and anxiety in dogs is a huge business.
I’ve been writing posts and creating webinars to uncover the lies in the marketing language about these products for some time now. I’m angry because most do not operate as promised and they are exploiting people who are trying to help their suffering dogs. Many also denigrate interventions for which there is evidence.
Here is some of the marketing language for three enclosures designed to protect dogs from sound and other stimuli.These are all verbatim from the products’ websites except for the explanatory phrases in parentheses.
Product 1: Peaceful, shelter, stylish, safe, natural, wellbeing, sleek, instinctive, refuge, silent, cozy, haven, calm, natural calming process, without the need for medication, peace of mind (for human). (Amelioration of separation anxiety is implied.)
Product 2: Safe haven, tranquil haven, significantly reduces anxiety, sleek, stress-free home, ensure peace of mind for every member of the family.
Product 3: Calm, sanctuary, “solution” (for separation anxiety and sound phobia), calming music “based on research studies,” effective substitute for medicine, soothe the animal.
They sound great, don’t they? Especially if you don’t know that their claims are overblown. They make ridiculous promises. None of the product pages recommend addressing the cause of the dog’s fears. None of them acknowledge that sound phobia or separation anxiety are serious medical conditions. Two of them paint the use of medications as undesirable. Marketers know that there are many dog owners who are reluctant to try behavioral medications. Their marketing actively pushes people away from effective ways of helping their dogs.
Hiding as a Part of a Training Plan
Providing a safe hiding place for a pet can certainly be a management method as part of a training plan.
My interest in hiding places was rekindled by a product that was advertised recently. But I’ve been interested in them for a long time, ever since I’ve had fearful dogs. I have a page of do-it-yourself hiding places for dogs. But a hiding place is a first step. It’s not the only intervention. Hiding places are far from the only element of the process of helping the dog. And they are not one-size-fits-all, as product marketing implies.
But let’s back up. Being so scared of something that you want to hide is awful. So shouldn’t our first questions be, “Is the trigger something we can control so we can prevent the exposure in the first place?” and “Can I help my dog learn to be less afraid?” Address either of those, and then our animal won’t have such a great need to hide. I recently heard someone brag with delight that their dog ran to their custom hiding place when the vacuum came out. While it’s great that the dog has someplace to go, what if the human made sure not to vacuum when the dog was around? Gave them something nice to chew in a far room of the house with some masking sounds on, or vacuumed when another family member took the dog out for a while? There would be that much less fear in the dog’s life if the human simply prevented exposure. Not to mention that they could go a step further and help the dog not to fear the vacuum.
There are steps previous to helping our pet hide, and many steps to take after a hiding place is provided. I want more for Lewis, and for your dogs. I want them not to need to hide.
The Aversiveness of Hiding Places
This is a mind-blowing thought. Fancy crates or custom-fitted closets are supposed to make our pets feel better! But if an animal stays in a hiding place because of something that scares them, that place just has to be less aversive than the thing they are trying to flee.
It’s easy to think of hiding places as places our dogs goto, rather than as places they go to get away from something. We imagine them as pleasant and comforting. But they merely have to be less awful for the animal than being fully exposed to what they are afraid of. This is an escape contingency. Remember the tornado shelter.
Assuming that “attractive hiding place” = “happy and relaxed dog” is a terrible misunderstanding.
My Feral Cat’s Hiding Place
I learned about the potential aversiveness of hiding places from Arabella, my feral cat.
Feral cat Arabella in her hiding place
She hid from humans, including me if I was moving around. She loved my three other cats and preferred to hang out with them. She would visit me and solicit petting if (and only if) I was in bed. She never became “tame” in the usual sense of the word. She was nervous around me if I was moving (and usually ran away) and was petrified of all other humans.
She found a hiding spot: a cabinet under the sink in a bathroom. The door didn’t latch, so she could open it with her nose or paw. It would close behind her when she got in. I will never forget the sound of that cabinet door flapping shut behind her whenever anything unusual happened in the house.
She spent a lot of time in there, so I put in a towel for her to lie on. The bathroom itself had no windows and was very dark when the light wasn’t on, so inside her closed cabinet she was in near-total darkness. It probably reeked of cleaning supplies.
In some situations, Arabella would stay in the cabinet for over twelve hours. I don’t need to describe all the ways this was likely unpleasant for her, because her behavior said it all. As soon as I stayed put or the people were gone, she shot out of there. The place she had escaped to now became the place she escaped from.
Arabella’s situation taught me that a hiding place isn’t necessarily happy or relaxing. All a hiding place has to do is be less aversive than the thing the animal is escaping. I wish I had known better back then how to help her.
Unfortunately, we humans can be swayed into thinking hiding places are happy if the place is attractive and dedicated to the pet. But we shouldn’t assume that those qualities affect the pet’s experience.
Picking a Hiding Place
So, given that many of us have animals that need to hide sometimes, what should we consider in helping them optimize their choice? Just as we do a functional assessment before a training intervention, if we need to provide a hiding place for our pet, it’s important to know the function of the hiding behavior and observe the animal’s preferences. When considering products or do-it-yourself solutions, we need to assess the suitability. We need to determine as best we can whether a particular product or hiding place protects them from what they are trying to escape, and whether their history (including medical conditions) and preferences ensure it is a safe place for them. But let’s get away from the assumption of products for now, because usually our dogs have already told us what kind of hiding place they prefer.
Lewis in one of his “hiding places” when he was scared of noises
Lewis has hidden during very loud thunder or fireworks, especially before we had the right medications to help him. Of course I let him hide; it would be cruel to force him out when he has retreated. His choice is usually to wedge himself between pieces of furniture without regard to whether he can be seen. (See the first photo in this post and the one wrapped in this section.) In fact, he chooses places where he can see us, his people. I have shown him cozy closets, covered crates, a secluded back room, and a small dark bathroom that was a favorite of a previous dog and outfitted with a dog bed. He doesn’t seek these dark, secluded spaces. His response shows that a purchased enclosed “hiding place” would be a waste of money. His chosen hiding places don’t protect him from loud bangs and booms, but neither do the crates that claim to. In my webinars, I discuss extensively why attempts at soundproofing against thunder and fireworks don’t work.
We do need to make sure the dog’s chosen place is safe. Some hiding places aren’t. I think twice about the bathroom option nowadays.
A Word about Dens
Baby Clara, after I showed her a crate on her first night with me
Females of many species of mammals whelp and raise their litters in secluded areas or dens. This includes feral and free-ranging dogs. (Dogs who live in homes are usually provided a secluded, human-created whelping area.) There are some interesting studies about the characteristics of dens that free-ranging dogs choose (Sen Majumder et al., 2016; Bhadra & Sarkar, 2023).
But reductionist statements like “Dogs are den animals” or “Dogs love dens” are not justifications for hiding places as complete solutions for dogs who are hiding out of fear. Nor do such statements acknowledge a dog’s individuality.
I say this as someone who had a feral puppy enter my house one night. At bedtime, she scooted straight into a small, comfy crate I provided her and stayed there, completely silent, all night. We could say, as I did then “Wow, she was probably raised in a den, she loves having her own little space.” Clara probably was raised in a den, culvert, or other secluded area. But even if enclosed spaces were familiar to her, we could also say, “This pup, who is terrified of humans and suddenly removed from her littermates and the only environment she knows, is scared and hiding.”
Lewis, on the other hand, spent two months living in a cage at a veterinary practice as an older pup. The first night I had him, I guided him into a crate with a cushy bed, right next to my bed. I gave him some goodies to eat, but he yelled immediately when I closed the door. (I opened it immediately, and we scrapped that idea for the time being.) Ironically, it’s likely that he, also, was raised in a ditch or other secluded space.
We need to look at the function. Statements about dogs’ love of dens are labels, and they negate dogs’ individual preferences.
Dogs Deserve More
Because of medications and training, Lewis is resting during some of the worst noise of Independence day.
Don’t believe the hype: buying a hiding place won’t solve all your dog’s problems. In many cases, it won’t help anything at all. The itch to purchase a fancy place for our dog to hide in should be a signal for us to do more. To do whatever we can to address the animal’s fear or discomfort directly.
I absolutely believe in letting scared dogs hide. But providing, helping them find, or optimizing a hiding place is not a solution for a dog in fear. It’s one part of a plan. When there are ways to prevent their fear from reaching a point where they need to hide, my ethics are that I am bound to try to help them. Because repeated fear and panic are not good. And spending a lot of time hiding is no way to live.
If you need expert help for your fearful dog, contact Debbie Jacobs of Fearfuldogs.com or Malena DeMartini and her team (specifically for separation anxiety). Both provide phone and/or online consults. And both can help you teach your dog that the world is a much less scary place than they formerly thought. Your dog won’t likely need to hide anymore.
References
Bhadra, A., & Sarkar, R. (2023). A Dog’s life in the human jungle. In Canine Cognition and the Human Bond (pp. 63-90). Cham: Springer International Publishing.
Sen Majumder, S., Paul, M., Sau, S., & Bhadra, A. (2016). Denning habits of free-ranging dogs reveal preference for human proximity. Scientific reports, 6(1), 32014.
