Did you know that dog parks are rife with animal abusers? I’m only half-joking. Strike up a conversation with a stranger at a dog park and, if you really care about dogs’ well-being, it’s likely that you’ll soon be faced with an advocacy challenge.

At local dog parks, I have had the distinct displeasure of finding myself in conversations with people who spray Bitter Apple directly into their dogs’ mouths as a “correction” for barking, crate them for 10 hours at a time, and rub their sensitive noses in urine and feces as punishment, not to mention seeing myriad dogs with their tails and ears hacked off or sporting shock or prong collars.

Many of these people truly believe that they’re doing the right thing for their dogs because a dog trainer or a veterinarian or their parents told them to do it. Please remind these people that they can think for themselves. Point out how obvious it is that dogs and puppies feel pain and fear just as we do, and suggest that they ask themselves how they would like it. If they’re religious, invoke the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Or simply express shock and horror that anyone would do such a thing to their own dog.

I’m sure there are subtler, more diplomatic ways of getting the idea across, and I would love to receive any suggestions that you might have since, unfortunately, I’m not really known for my diplomacy.

One of the basic ideas behind “positive” dog training, as I understand it, is that you reward the behavior that you want to encourage and you ignore the behavior that is driving you insane.

I don’t think this will always work (it’s pretty hard to ignore the behavior of a dog who is tearing down the curtains or attacking the neighbor’s toddler), but I recently got the perfect opportunity to apply this approach in a relatively unadulterated way to see how well it works.

My neighbors were having a family crisis that was keeping them from providing adequate care for their 2-year-old beagle, Zoe [not her real name], so I offered to take her in until the crisis was over.

We were already acquainted with Zoe―she had been coming to my home for a two-hour play date every week for the past six months―so I knew that we might be in for a rough ride:

She’s always been big on pawing at me and attempting to climb all over me just to get my attention. A Nervous Nelly, extremely hyperactive, and very needy, you would also be hard-pressed to get her to sit still long enough to put a leash on her. But, under the new “rules,” from day one, I ignored all the hyperactivity and only petted her and praised her when she was calm and still. I only broke the rules if her behavior threatened to harm herself or someone else. And I took her for 30-minute walks in the morning. Results: After only 10 days, Zoe had morphed into a different dog! She had stopped pawing at me, and if she wanted to be petted, she sat politely beside me.

Of course, some of this was a direct result of being immersed in a normal, balanced pack of dogs. It’s hard to tell how much of her improved behavior came from that and how much came from the “positive” training, but nevertheless, I still give this method two thumbs up! The take-home message is this: Praise your dogs whenever you catch them behaving the way you want them to. Don’t take good behavior for granted; reinforce it at every opportunity and it will occur more and more frequently.

Many of us spend a great deal of time and energy fixing up our homes and yards. When we have a nice-sized back yard, with assorted trees, bushes, grasses, and maybe a deck or a porch, we think, “My dog is SO lucky! This is canine heaven!” And so we let Fido out into the yard “to play” and are astonished when he wants to come right back inside.

Apparently, Fido doesn’t share our opinion. More than likely, Fido’s opinion is that as long as the yard is surrounded by fencing and the house by walls―no matter how luxurious or beautifully appointed―the whole thing amounts to nothing more than a glorified kennel. A big, comfortable one, to be sure, but a kennel nonetheless. Fido wants OUT!

See, dogs are natural-born travelers. This is why they go stir-crazy when confined and why it’s so important to get them out of the house, preferably on a long walk with you, each and every day.

Many, if not most, dogs around the world suffer from harsh treatment—forced to pull sleds and live outside in the snow in Canada, killed and eaten in Asia, experimented on in labs throughout the U.S. and Europe, and on and on.

So people like us, who love dogs, often go overboard in trying to make up for these injustices—we vow that our dogs will never, ever feel a moment’s discomfort or experience the slightest restriction—especially dogs who have been rescued from hideous living conditions.

Nothing but love, affection, and smooches for our dogs—sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? To us, yes. But dogs have a different way of looking at things.

First of all, they live in the present moment, so while we may be obsessively lamenting Fifi’s past trials and tribulations, she’s not. Secondly, in doggie culture, there must always be a leader, a leader who creates rules and enforces them. If you don’t demonstrate this leadership to your dog, then your dog will feel obliged to try to fill that role.

So what happens when a dog becomes the leader in a human household? Well, it tends to get ugly: There may be excessive barking, inappropriate urination, snapping and biting, and usually a dog who has become a nervous wreck, trying to control things that he or she doesn’t fully understand.

So please, don’t feel guilty about setting boundaries and rules for your beloved canine companion. This is normal for dogs—they expect it, they don’t take it personally, and, best of all, it makes them feel more secure. Your dog will be happier and much more relaxed if you take a leadership role—try it!

My 9-year-old dog, Rowdy, occasionally gets a spot on the top of one of his paws that he just can’t stop licking (called a “lick granuloma”). I've tried putting colloidal silver or coconut oil on it to keep it from getting infected, then covering it with my thumb and spraying Bitter Apple all around it to keep him from licking it.

This works but only until the bad taste wears off—then he gets right back to work on it again. The first time this happened, it went on for a week or so. Finally, I took him to—of all people—a veterinary chiropractor. (It’s a well-kept secret, but chiropractic is not just for backs and necks.) After his adjustment, Rowdy had no more interest in licking that paw and never touched it again.

The same thing happened to my late husky, Darby. He had a hotspot on his hip that just wouldn’t heal—until, finally, he got a chiropractic adjustment. After that, he never licked that spot again. It makes sense when you think about it: All the nerves in our bodies originate in the spinal column, so if you’ve got a misalignment there, it’s going to affect whatever parts of your body the related nerves serve.

For you Hampton Roads locals, Dr. Paul Rowan is the man to see. His number is 757-417-7730. For everyone else, check out http://www.avcadoctors.com/avcadus.htm to find a veterinary chiropractor.

I was at a large dog park recently on a hot day, and there was just one puddle in the entire park (from a leaky pipe). Naturally, all the dogs kept gravitating toward the mud as inexorably as a moth to a flame, and this set the dog guardians to screaming, "Max, get away from that!" "Don't even think about it, Sasha!" I was standing nearby and tried to advocate in behalf of the hot dogs: "But it's so hot out! You can just let the mud dry and then brush it out of her coat." I don't understand why muddy dogs cause such freak-outs. If you've got a blanket or a tarp over your back seat, your dog will be dry by the time you get home and will probably have licked most of the dirt off too. But what's left can easily be brushed or combed out. And for those unfortunate inevitable incidents when Fido merrily rolls in something really fetid, you can just use enzyme wipes (Nature’s Miracle makes nice ones). Try that first before going to all the trouble of lathering up your little Lucifer.

People are always so shocked to find out that I almost never bathe my dogs. Yet, they smell fine. They really do. The truth is that chronic bad doggie odor usually comes from within (from a diet that is not agreeing with the dog), so frequent baths are just masking a serious health issue that requires a dietary change, not shampoo.

Sarah

Over the past year, I've fostered a series of small dogs who came from bad situations (actually one big bad situation). They came to me extremely skittish and with very few, if any, everyday canine skills, such as leash-walking or even the ability to comprehend phrases of approval like "Good girl!" Especially the last two girls. I got accustomed to being looked at as if I were an ax murderer and causing these little ones to cower in fear just by turning my gaze in their direction, but of course I hated that.

So for months and months I've been trying very hard to gain their trust and get them to relax and feel safe around me and other people and dogs. There have been discouraging times when I actually thought that their horrible puppyhood had caused their brains to become wired in such a way that they would never be able to trust me. But I just kept trying and waiting patiently (what choice did I have?). Patience is one of my life lessons, so I guess these gals came into my life to finally teach it to me.

There were small, incremental improvements: One night, they slept on my bed. At some point, they started wagging their tails. Soon, they took food from my hands. I could pet them if I cornered them, but otherwise they were very hand-shy and would skitter away if I reached out to them. However, I did manage to acquaint them with the pleasures of leash-walking.

One day, I took them up to Williamsburg, Virginia, to see Dr. Tracy Lord for some acupuncture. I told her that I couldn't afford to keep bringing them back repeatedly so she should just do what she could for them in this one single visit. Well, pretty soon, they all looked like pin cushions, with needles poking out of them in all directions.

They all got sleepy as we let the needles do their work, but the treatment had the most profound effect on round little Sarah, a Chihuahua-pug mix. She couldn't keep her eyes open or even hold her head up. It was too cute for words when she rested her chin with her adorable crooked smile on the back of one of the other dogs and dozed off.

But the miracle of acupuncture started to manifest itself right outside in the reception area as we were waiting to pay the bill. A little 10-year-old boy held out his hand to Sarah, and she went right up to him! She let him pet her for about 10 minutes. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

And that was just the beginning of an accelerated pace to their rehabilitation. After that, new "firsts" occurred nearly every day. I'll never forget the first time that Sarah approached me and "asked" me to pet her. And now we're well beyond that, with frequent chin and heinie scratches!

The trip from Norfolk to Williamsburg and back is a travel nightmare (at least on Saturday in the summertime), but there is no question in my mind that it was well worth it. If any of you locals would like to make an appointment with Dr. Lord, call the Animal Clinic and Wellness Center at 757-253-0812. She's there on Thursdays and Saturdays.

For everyone else, check out the International Veterinary Acupuncture Society to find a veterinary acupuncturist near you.