Have you ever felt like you have tried everything and needed help because you just couldn't see the next move…
In December of 2022, I was sitting in a rehabilitation center in LA… for my dog. The owner Brandon Fouche called it a rehabilitation center, because he wanted to teach you to understand your dog’s needs versus teaching them tricks, using trainings or drugs to create the illusion you have them under control. Or as he put it, “lie to your dog.” Brandon turned to me and said, “I learned everything I know from observation.” It made me pause. This is exactly how I learned everything I know. Like him, some of the science and big words I learned through education, to talk about intergenerational trauma and brain development, were second to or at the most reinforced by what I learned through observation. In truth, I viscerally learned the most from curiously observing my own trauma, as well as the trauma of other people, children, family members and even pets that came into my life. Curiosity allows me to not only observe but to participate in new ways. I instantly trusted him.
I trusted him because of his truth speaking. When I called for the consultation he told me, “You are ‘bandaiding’ the problem and not fixing anything with your dog on meds.” I tried to defend myself at first, but ultimately, I agreed with him. I got off the phone. And cried. And then signed up. He had truth bombed me. It stung, and I made a choice to face the truth. It was not lost on me that I am usually the one holding this role, telling people truths they don’t want to hear, aren’t ready to hear but need to hear.
In our initial in-person evaluation, he gently (and not so gently) told me that I was my dog’s problem. She was fear-aggressive from puppyhood trauma, and he explained that some of my dog’s issues were because of how her brain was wired from painful experiences in her past and her genetics. He also told me, “how she chooses to use them is up to you.” I got it - this meant I had to change my behavior to get new results. I had to laugh at myself; this was exactly what I was encouraging a parent to do with their child on a call earlier that morning. I knew, if we could “be” different, it had a bigger and more sustainable impact on shifting habits, patterns and behaviors in all of our relationships, but I didn’t yet know how. I couldn’t see how I was encouraging or participating with her behavior. I had a blindspot.
When she was staring at me whimpering or pacing around the house, I would pet her or hold her to console her. When she would meet a dog or another human for the first time, I would give her the chance to be “good” and hold my breath, in hopes this would be the time she wouldn’t snap at them or show her teeth. She had so much energy, I would let her run off leash where no one was around, watching her every move, risking that she may get attacked or in fear attack another dog.
He called me a “helicopter parent”. I was hovering, reacting, protecting, anticipating - what she really needed was for me to show her what she could and could not do and consistently hold the boundaries that kept her and others safe, without giving her the opportunity to show up the way I wish she could. She was a dog, not a human. She needed to know that there were established structures and that I was keeping her safe, so she could stop believing she needed to keep me safe. I needed to teach her boundaries - where the danger was and where it wasn’t. She wasn’t able to do this on her own; she perceived danger in the abrupt movement of children, other dogs, and humans doing “strange” things.
The frontal lobe of the brain in a dog is much smaller than an adult human. This means they can look out, into the world, but they cannot look in, towards themselves. “You have to think like a dog,” he said, “not an adult human.” I had been accidentally treating my dog like a child, because it was what I knew - I know how to help children regulate their nervous systems, but children still have a bigger frontal lobe than dogs (though smaller than adult humans)!
When he told me my dog and I were codependent because of my micromanaging of her behavior (helicopter parenting), I wanted to argue with him. But, I knew he was right. I gave her constant commands to control her behavior, but it confused her and did not let her make her own choices. “You train her to be who you want her to be but aren’t letting her be herself,” he said, “a wild animal.” Wild animals, or the limbic brain, needs to be given the opportunity to make the choice that keeps them safe or is desired. This meant I had to change my approach to acknowledge and accept the wild part in her.
What I wanted in a dog and what she needed were in opposition. I told her what I wanted over and over, gave too many commands and chances, and her behavior consistently told me that she couldn’t be that dog. I was the one who was inconsistent. She didn’t trust me to keep her safe, because I kept giving her chances to be a different dog, less wild, even though she kept telling me she couldn’t be different.
I flagged my blindspots with the words co-dependence and helicopter mom. Now, when I know if something is in my blindspot, I get stubbornly curious until a new way is revealed. Blindspots are crafty - like a dream I can feel from last night but can’t remember. You have to work to see them. (More about blindspots here). I went through waves of accepting and not accepting the dog I had. When he asked me what I wanted, I basically said an entirely different dog, by describing things outside of my dog’s capabilities. She would never be docile and friendly with other dogs and some humans. I wanted to cry when he said, “it is your job to control the environment.” I dropped into accepting her again and surrendered, “teach me how.” What revealed was how I needed to be different with her - let her feel safety with consistency and clear boundaries, not move the line by giving chances as I hover, and actually let her learn to choose a new behavior.
This is all about looking in the mirror, and a magazine. The question truly is, what behaviors or beliefs do I need to change to honor who she is? I didn’t want my dog to bite someone or another dog or for her to be afraid of the world in general. I had to set boundaries for my dog and take control of her environment. It is neither of our faults. It’s who we are genetically and who we have learned to be.
The magazine was the tool Brandon gave me. I never hit her with it. I used it to show her what was safe and what was not, with noise and motion, like a dog. I used it to show her consistency. I used it to show up differently. I used a magazine to stand in my personal authority and set the boundaries my dog needed. I controlled the environment around us. (Everyone jumped when I hit my leg with a magazine). This man changed our lives with a magazine, a new perspective and new boundaries. And, my dog taught me how to return to myself, stand in my personal authority, “be” better for both of us, set boundaries and honor the wild in her, and in doing so, honor the wild in me.
