Lucky and Gracie

The following is a guest post by one of PETA's star volunteer writers, Laura Frisk.

My dogs, Lucky and Gracie, look forward to many events throughout their day. Since my husband and I work at home, they are always with us, and our days, for the most part, are pretty routine. Dogs love routines, and one of their favorites is being "kitchen dogs."

Cooking is my hobby. The dogs know this, and tails start wagging when I go into the kitchen. Slicing a banana for our smoothie, pulling the vegetable peeler over a carrot, or simply taking one of my copper pots from the cupboard signals that it’s time for the routine to begin. They race into the kitchen full of joy! Lucky and Gracie are vegan, by the way, just like us.

They love the pieces of carrots, cucumbers, and even red bell peppers that I give them while chopping our salad veggies. Needless to say, my floor is always wiped—I mean licked—clean of any little tidbits that happen to fall off the counter. Good little vegans that they are, they love raw vegetables. If tofu is on the menu, they are in doggy heaven.

Dogs are happiest when they have something to look forward to during their days, which usually aren’t nearly as full as ours. Lucky and Gracie have decided that being kitchen dogs is part of their routine, and that suits me just fine. I love having my little helpers with me, smiling and keeping me company while I cook and sampling the food that they always think is the best food they have ever tasted. I, too, love our routine, and I can’t think of anyone else I'd rather have in my kitchen than my two best friends, my kitchen dogs.

Some vets think that puppies should be eating more soil microorganisms for good health. Chalupa looks like he might be dreaming about mud pies! Mmmm!

The opposite of antibiotic is probiotic. When our dogs get some kind of a bacterial infection, veterinarians will often prescribe an antibiotic to kill off the offending bacteria so that the infection can heal up. However, the downside to this is that antibiotics kill almost all bacteria in the intestines indiscriminately, even the beneficial ones, the probiotics. This is really bad because those beneficial bacteria are really beneficial.

Not only do they normalize digestion, they also produce enzymes, synthesize vitamins, and help to detoxify the body. And since the seat of a dog's immune system is located in the guts, poor digestive function is an invitation to lowered immunity. This can lead to chronic yeast or fungal infections.

Also, when antibiotics kill off bacteria, it will often be the harmful ones that re-emerge, stronger than ever, and start overwhelming the weakened beneficial ones. These potent harmful bacteria can even become resistant to antibiotics, resulting in a very dangerous, life-threatening health crisis.

Luckily, we can counter all this health trouble with probiotics, which are friendly intestinal bacteria. There are many strains of probiotics. Probably the most familiar one is Lactobacillus acidophilus, which was identified a long time ago. But dogs (and humans) normally have many different strains of these nice bacteria in their intestines, so when you give probiotics to your dog, generally the more different strains of bacteria included, the better.

One interesting aspect to all this is that before the advent of extreme sanitation and our pervasive fear of germs, our dogs (and our kids!) used to eat a lot of dirt. Food just wasn't as clean and refined (i.e., processed and packaged) as it is today, and kids and dogs were allowed to get a lot dirtier than they are nowadays. That dirt that they ingested contained a lot of beneficial microbes (thousands per teaspoonful). Some veterinarians and doctors now feel that our dogs and kids need those microorganisms for optimal health because they evolved together. They attribute the huge increase in allergies and asthma in recent years to a lack of exposure to these organisms at a young age.

If you really want to get down to the nitty-gritty, you can even buy these microbes in supplement form—they're called "homeostatic soil organisms" (HSO). I would recommend them, as well as beneficial bacteria, to anyone whose dog has chronic health problems such as digestive disturbances; inflamed skin; ear, eye, or respiratory infections; or allergies.

Tiny terrorist Theresa saw the error of her ways and has since become a little cherub.

We all know at least one tiny dog, usually a Chihuahua, who barks incessantly, bares those little teeth, or even lunges and bites. I've known a few. It's not their fault—that's for sure. I don't know if Chihuahuas are prone to that sort of behavior, but it definitely does not have to be that way. When I started fostering scared, unsocialized Chihuahuas last year (five, so far), I swore that they would not turn out that way on my watch, and so far, they haven't.

But I can be a little slow on the uptake. One day, I noticed that my big dog Rowdy had stopped sleeping in his usual place, on the bed in the front bedroom. The little Chihuahua girls were sleeping there. I didn't think too much about it until one day, I witnessed the transformation of tiny Theresa's cute little plush-toy face into an ugly menacing glare and actually saw her lunge at Rowdy as he tried to go into the front bedroom! He politely, if dejectedly, turned around and left the room. My heart broke. This was not fair and it wasn't nice.

So I called Rowdy back into the front bedroom and invited him up onto the bed, lavishing attention and praise on him in Theresa's presence so she could see that Rowdy had every right to be there. I did this at every opportunity. When she was nice about it, she got praised too!

Another time, Theresa was on my bed when big dog Dexter threw his chest across the bed to greet me in the morning, and Theresa lunged at him like a ferocious tiger. I reacted by pushing her quickly away from Dexter in no uncertain terms and then petting and praising Dexter lavishly to let him know that he was a good boy for not lunging back, and, perhaps more importantly, to let Theresa know that she was not the queen of the bed and that there would be no more lunging. As soon as she relaxed, she got praised too.

It only took about three repetitions of each of these exercises before Theresa got it: Only nice behavior is allowed in this house. Rowdy is back on the bed in the front bedroom, and just this morning I saw Theresa and Dexter playing together like old pals.

I think many small dogs go bad because their guardians enable them. Their bodies are so tiny that everything they do is cute, even the sociopathic things. But imagine how you would react if your little dog were 10 times larger. If the behavior is unacceptable in a larger dog, then it's unacceptable in a Chihuahua too.

Here are four good reasons why people with small dogs should intervene and correct when their dogs behave badly:

1. Dogs who are that aggressive are not happy campers. They feel insecure because they aren't sensing any leadership coming from their guardians. So they're trying to step up and control a world that is much bigger than they are, and their primary emotion is anxiety. Always being on red alert is no fun psychologically, and it really takes a toll on the heart, the adrenal glands, and the immune system.
2. It's not fair to other dogs to have to put up with such obnoxious behavior from a fellow canine. They definitely don't find it cute.
3. If a Chihuahua bites the wrong dog, he or she could get badly injured in return. If a Chihuahua bites the wrong human, the guardian could get sued or the Chihuahua could be forced to undergo a long quarantine or even be put down.



4. Badly behaved small dogs make everyone unhappy—their guardians, their guardians' friends, passersby, other dogs, and themselves. There is nothing positive to say about an out-of-control Chihuahua.

On the bright side, however, it's never too late to tame the tiny terrorist. And their small size makes it pretty easy. Just set some boundaries, and don't let them break the rules. Be consistent, and be serious. Show some leadership. And most important of all, respect your diminutive canine as a dog, who deserves to be well balanced and relaxed, instead of viewing him or her as a cute little toy to laugh at or to complain about.

Keeley is proud of his language-recognition skills!

The following is a guest post by Alisa Mullins, who has been writing for PETA since 1991.

Talking to dogs can really enhance our relationships with them. They understand a lot more than we think. By talking, I don’t just mean "sit," "stay," and "come." I mean giving dogs cues to let them know what’s expected of them, providing them with the opportunity to do "right" before being scolded or corrected for doing "wrong."

I learned this lesson years ago from my late borzoi, Magic. Magic had been abused by a worker at the "reputable" kennel where she was born, and it took her a long time to realize that if someone stepped over her when she was lying on the floor, that didn't mean she was about to receive a swift kick to the ribs. Perhaps because of her early abuse, Magic was very sensitive about being pushed and pulled. If you grabbed her by the collar and tried to pull her out of the car to go to the vet's, she would yelp and writhe, as if she had been stabbed with a red-hot poker. So we learned to simply tell her to hop out of the car. It worked like a charm.

When you and your dog are out on a walk, it's natural to tug on the leash when you want to change direction or get your dog to stop. But here’s something new to try—talk to your dog before yanking on the leash.

My current dog, Keeley, taught me this one. He is very intuitive and prides himself on knowing which way we're going to go when we're out walking. So I started giving him a little warning when we were about to change direction, to save him from the embarrassment (there's no other way to describe the look on his face) of choosing the wrong way to go. Just as we are about to turn, I say in a perky voice, "This way!" He knows that means to look at me to determine which way I'm about to go.

When we approach a busy street crossing, I say, "Hold up"—he knows that means "stop" and looks at me for the signal for when it's time to cross, which is "OK!" At that point, he leaps forward with obvious glee. Unlike many humans I know, he actually likes being told what to do, especially when the alternative is an unexpected jerk on his leash.

I've started talking to him even in tense situations like, for example, when the mail carrier (whom Keeley despises, just on principle) approaches. I say calmly, "Leave him alone—he's authorized," and miraculously, Keeley seems to understand that now is not the time to go on red alert (well, at least most of the time—we're still working on this one).

For some of you, all of this may seem like common sense. But, hey, some of us are slow learners—unlike our dogs.

Joey looks extremely festive in his holiday sweater and boots. Lucky boy—his mom crochets all of his sweaters!

In our area of Virginia, the temperatures have started to dip into the 40s and even the 30s. This means that some dogs will already have started shivering. And when it comes to resisting the cold weather, size does not matter at all. The biggest, strongest, toughest-looking pit bull or Doberman can be seen looking hunched over and miserable outside because their short, thin coats are not doing it for them. This is one reason why it’s so tragic that Dobermans are often used as guard dogs. They have to endure loneliness and freezing-cold temperatures. My late Doberman, Shandy, was always a chilly dog in winter, so I bought him a sporty blue cape-like jacket from a greyhound catalog that made him look like Superdog. He loved it and seemed to walk taller in it too.

Many people don’t realize that some dogs need winterwear because they assume that a dog’s coat is sufficient protection against the cold. But look at it this way: Don’t you sometimes feel cold when you’re outside with a coat on? And it gets worse if you’re not given the opportunity to move around much, such as in the sad case of dogs who are chained or penned outside.

Sarah and Theresa model matching pink thermal underwear featuring a convenient opening in just the right spot! I bet they’ll stay toasty this winter!

A good rule of thumb is this: If you feel comfortable in a light jacket and your dog has a medium-thick coat, everything should be fine. If you feel the need to put on a heavier coat and mittens, then start thinking about buying outerwear for your dog too. Don’t worry about it if you have a husky, collie, chow-chow, or other dog with a thick undercoat, but do worry about it if your dog has a thin, short haircoat or is old or infirm. Worry less if you’re going for a brisk walk or run that will warm you both up quickly, and worry more if you’re going to be standing around outside for any length of time.

Or you could just observe your dog and see if he or she shivers. Then get your dog some outerwear pronto!

You can knit or crochet your own dog sweaters—there are lots of patterns on the Internet. Teresa, the guardian of Joey and Chandler, whose picture accompanies this post, whips out dog sweaters like nobody’s business. And choosing your own colors can be a lot of fun. If you’d rather go with something store-bought, there’s a lot to choose from both online and at your local pet supply store: sweaters, coats, thermal underwear, sweatshirts—even boots to fend off snow and ice.

Boots are particularly good for dogs with furry feet who are going to be walking around in the snow. I remember my cocker spaniel Rogan accumulating little icy snowballs all over his fluffy feet when we walked in the snow the first time. Not too pleasant—in fact, he stopped walking altogether and made me carry him!

Answer: One grinds up logs; the other grinds up dogs.

Dottie's life was bleak and hopeless in this hideous hellhole of a puppy mill.

Well, puppy mills don't literally grind up dogs, but they certainly do a number on them. Conditions at puppy mills are notoriously bad―inadequate shelter, bad food, dirty water, little to no veterinary care, no exercise or socialization. Basically, the dogs are warehoused and treated like puppy-producing machines until they're too old to turn a profit. Guess what happens to them then? Let's not go there.

There was another puppy mill bust in the news late last week in Hillsville, Virginia. Nearly 1,000 dogs and puppies had to be removed from their chicken-wire cages in this bleak warehouse, according to the Associated Press. If only every puppy mill in America would get busted! Many of them are located in remote areas of the Midwest and will never be inspected or investigated. It seems that greed will drive people to do any unspeakable thing, including keeping dogs in cages for their entire lives.

I have strong personal feelings about puppy mills since my last five foster dogs all came from one. It was located in North Carolina and held 100 mostly small dogs captive in hideous wood-and-chicken-wire cages. The best you could say about it was that it was worthy of being shut down, and thanks to a determined, courageous local animal control officer with a heart of gold, it was. She didn't rest until every one of those dogs was safe and had received veterinary care. All the dogs got farmed out to various animal protection groups and shelters, and PETA got a batch too.

Here's Dottie today livin' the good life, snuggled inside a "dachshund sandwich."

Without exception, these dogs were bad off psychologically. All were terrified of humans. Some were so scared that they would lose bladder and bowel control if you just looked their way. Well, my little Sophia, one of the older ones, still cringes when I look directly at her sometimes, and it's been more than 18 months. What kind of evil mind would inflict so much psychological damage on an innocent living being?

Well, I'm happy to report that after receiving an abundance of tender loving care, many of these dogs have completely recovered. One of the biggest success stories is Dottie, a Boston terrier who was so scared initially that for at least two weeks after her arrival, she refused to go back in the house from the back yard on her own. Today, Dottie is brimming with self-confidence as she attempts to rule over her four canine siblings and her mom, Mary Beth. I just love happy endings!

Sydney survived abandonment and an embedded collar before her luck changed.

The following is a guest post by one of PETA's cherished supporters, Lisa Towell.

Our dog Sydney loves all the same things that most dogs do. Mention the word "walk" and her tail goes into overdrive. Start loading the car, and she leaps uninvited into the back seat, hoping to go with us. Ask her, "Where's Bodie?" and she runs through the house to find our other dog.

She wasn't always this way. We adopted her from our local humane society when she was about 9 months old. They had found her wandering the streets with a collar grown into the flesh of her neck. The day that we brought her home, she was frightened of the car, of the stairs in the house, and even of us—a sudden hand movement would send her cowering to the floor. That first night we kept her right next to the bed, and by morning she had chewed a substantial hole in the box springs.

It took years, but she finally learned to trust us. She's never quite lost her fear of being left alone, and we still wonder what happened to her in her first months of life. Was she lost? Abandoned? Abused? She wasn't the most attractive dog at the shelter that day, with scars on her neck from the extraction of that ingrown collar and a short stump of a tail. But somehow she touched our hearts, and we knew she needed us. It made us miserable to see how full the shelter was and to realize that many of the dogs wagging their tails at us would be euthanized by the week's end to make room for new arrivals. Back out in the reception area, we watched dog after dog come through the doors, scared and shaking, to be handed over by their families to an uncertain future.

I've been a shelter volunteer for almost nine years now. People surrender their dogs to a shelter for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes dogs' owners become too ill to care for them. Sometimes the owners die, and no one from their families wants to keep the dog. These stories always make me sad. Sometimes the family moves away and surrenders or abandons their dog. Sometimes the dog has a behavioral issue, and the owner doesn't have the knowledge or the patience to work on it. Sometimes the dog just doesn't fit into the owner's lifestyle anymore. These stories make me even sadder. But, one way or another, dogs keep coming into the shelter in need of homes.

Animal shelters and rescue groups are typically understaffed and underfunded. It's difficult for these groups to compete with other sources for pets, such as pet stores and breeders. Animal shelters are often located in a bad part of town or lack the funding to stay open on evenings and weekends or to advertise their animals. So people look elsewhere for a dog, and potential loving homes for shelter and rescue dogs are lost. And then more dogs come into the shelter, and the staff must make the terrible decision: Who must die today?

Not all shelter dogs are like Sydney, who had a lot of baggage from her early life. We later adopted Bodie from the shelter where I volunteer, and he's a normal and happy mixed-breed dog who has delighted in showing Sydney how much fun dog games can be. Wonderful dogs are waiting at every shelter. And if your heart is set on adopting a particular breed of dog, breed rescue groups abound and are always in need of good homes for their rescued purebreds.

Every time I walk in the door and see Sydney's happy face, I'm glad all over again that we were able to save her life. People are always asking us, "What a pretty dog—what breed is she?" and we always answer the same thing: "She's a shelter dog, and we love her."

Click here for a larger view.

Whenever I'm at the dog park, inevitably I’ll hear someone talking about putting their dog in a crate or even exclaiming, "Oh, my dog LOVES his crate!" At that moment, my hackles go up big-time, and I want to say, à la Saturday Night Live’s Church Lady, "Well, isn’t that convenient!" Of course, it's highly convenient to lock your dog in a box when you’re too busy or stressed out to deal with misbehavior or rambunctiousness.

"Oh," they'll say, "dogs are den animals. A crate is exactly like a den and being in it makes them feel secure." What they always so conveniently gloss over is the fact that a den doesn’t come with a locked door. In a den, you can come and go as you please.

It boggles my mind that people can be so obtuse about something so obvious. Birds hate to be caged, lions in the circus hate being in cages, humans hate being behind bars … why should it be any different with dogs? Oh, wait—there is one big difference: Dogs are the only animals willing to do ANYTHING for someone they love. And that includes tolerating being locked inside a cage. Dogs are stoic and they love unconditionally and they want to please their guardians, which is a perfect recipe for abusive treatment.

People take full advantage of their dogs’ desire to please and then they even twist it around and tell everyone that their dog enjoys being taken advantage of. It would be like a controlling husband saying, “Oh, my wife LOVES to stay home every night,” when in reality, he won’t permit her to go out.

I wish people would think for themselves and stop taking everything that their veterinarian or their dog trainer or the pet store sales clerk says as gospel. Vets and trainers and sales clerks can have ulterior motives or be uninformed or even mean. Common sense is really the bottom line. Does it make sense to say, “My dog LOVES to be locked inside a cage”? You can put a soft bed in there, and you can throw in some toys and treats, and you can "acclimate" your dog to the crate, but you can't change the basic fact that the dog is locked up with very little space to move around in.

I wish crates had never been invented. I shudder at their current popularity. I've taken care of eight dogs, half of whom came to me as puppies and I never made a single one of them stay in a crate. You puppyproof your house and you train your dogs (getting help as needed) and you stop aspiring to Better Homes and Gardens. That's all. Sure, I've still got some shredded books and furniture as mementos of the puppy eras. But who cares? My dogs' liberty and comfort and well-being mean far more to me than my material possessions.

If you agree and would like to help counteract this pernicious trend, please click here to order some of PETA's anti-crating posters and leaflets, like the one accompanying this blog post.

My beloved pack from 1992 to 2002: Shandy, Darby, and Rogan.

Thanksgiving is a great time to give thanks for our wonderful canine companions and all that's so very special about them. But for me, a corollary to giving thanks for our dogs is to remember not to take our dogs for granted—ever.

There are many things that can cause us to forget to focus on our beloved pooches—heavy workloads, family worries, busy schedules, and on and on. But I've found that the most insidious distraction of all is grief.

From the summer of 1992 to the summer of 2002, my dog pack consisted of three wonderful members—Rogan the cocker spaniel, Shandy the Doberman, and Darby the husky. But when I lost both Rogan and Shandy in quick succession in 2002, my heart turned heavy and I unwittingly began to obsess over my losses, all the while forgetting to appreciate what I still had—my beautiful Darby.

He was depressed, too, and I tried everything to cheer him up—agility classes (which he excelled at, even at his mature age!), taking him to work with me, asking a friend to come to the house to keep him company if I had to go out, etc. But still, I know that part of my brain was preoccupied with my loss of Rogan and Shandy, and that part was not paying attention to Darby.

That's when the Universe stepped in to teach me an important lesson. It was like somebody up there was looking down at me and saying, "Enough, already! You want something to cry about? I'll give you something to cry about!" And then Darby started to limp. I soon found out that he had bone cancer and was not long for this world either.

That's when it hit me what a fool I had been. I had a treasure at my side and had not appreciated it—at least not as much as I should have. I had been blinded by grief. This will never, ever happen to me again. My new motto goes beyond "Carpe diem!" (Seize the day!)—now it's "Carpe canem!" (Grab the dog!). Please, everybody, grab your dogs, too—right now, before it's too late—and let them know how much you love them. Don't make the same mistake that I did—don't ever take them for granted.

Jones agrees: The less stress, the better!

Lately, I've become aware of the phenomenon of the "path of least resistance" with regard to my dogs. To me, finding the path of least resistance means figuring out a way to accomplish a particular dog-care task that is loathed or feared by a dog or dogs (be it cutting their nails, cleaning out their ears, or giving them medication) without stressing them out.

When you're in a big hurry, it can be tempting to use a method that, though efficient and effective, ultimately either scares or upsets your dog. For example, you might think, "Aaagh, I've got to get this skittish little dog to the vet NOW, so I'm going to have to chase her down to get her harness on her." Stop! Don't do it. It's not worth it. You may get to your vet appointment on time, but you've damaged your relationship with the little dog in the process. Instead, try to think smart. In what other way can I accomplish the exact same thing only without upsetting my dog?

Well, in the case of needing to get a harness on my newest foster dog, who was very skittish at first, I simply opened the front door and let all the little foster dogs out onto my very small front porch. I shut the door to the house, and the little dog who needed to go to the vet was within arm's length of me, so there was no chasing her around and no scaring her. After I got the harness on her, I let the other little dogs back into the house, and we proceeded to the vet.

Here's another example: My big dog Dexter sometimes needs to take a homeopathic remedy, such as arnica when he sprained his ankle―but homeopathic remedies have to get into the dog's mouth without being touched by your fingers (they're delicate that way). However, Dexter is the type of dog who does NOT want you to mess with holding his mouth open. He's just jumpy and reactive (although, thankfully, I have managed to get him comfortable with nail-trimming). So here's what I did: I filled a tiny shallow bowl with a little bit of filtered water, poured the granular remedy into the water, stirred it with a spoon until it dissolved, and served it up to him. He then lapped it up like a special treat! Voilà! No stress.

Often, we just need to think outside the box and refuse to succumb to scheduling pressures in order to avoid causing stress and fear in our dogs.

Playtime in the nude!

Canine nudity, that is.

Three years ago, I had recently adopted Rowdy, and he and Dexter were very playful together, doing all the usual neck-biting and other roughhousing. I had a brunch date that Sunday morning, but at the last minute my friend called to cancel, so I stayed home. Twenty minutes later, about the time I would’ve been sitting down at the table in the restaurant, I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from my living room. There I saw that Dexter had gotten his lower jaw caught underneath Rowdy’s collar, and his canine teeth were preventing him from dislodging his jaw!

Rowdy's collar was so tight that he was choking, and Dexter was thrashing around and pulling harder and harder in his panicked state. I dove in, attempting to remove Rowdy's collar, but it wasn't easy with all the thrashing and because it was so tight. It took me a good 20 seconds to get it off.

I immediately called my friend and told her that by canceling on me, she had saved Rowdy’s life and saved Dexter from breaking his jaw! I think I shook like a leaf for the rest of the day.

The thing is, I knew that breakaway collars existed for dogs. They had been invented by a woman who went through the exact same thing only with a much grimmer outcome, and I had even bought them for Dexter and Sunny when I first adopted them together.

However, they proved to be somewhat impractical. If I went to grab my dog’s collar, it would come off in my hand, and I kept forgetting that they were breakaways. In fact, once at the dog park, Dexter fell off the seawall and into the river, and as I attempted to help him scramble up onto the ramp, I grabbed his collar, and—you guessed it—it came off, allowing Dexter to fall back into the water. Luckily, he also had a harness on, so I grabbed that and was able to help him out of the river, but his collar, complete with tags, was lost forever.

I also heard a terribly sad tale from a coworker whose dog’s tags got caught in a piece of furniture, causing the dog to die of strangulation when he tried to jump off.

So after that, I banned collars from my household. Exceptions are made for canine guests and for skittish newcomers who might be likely to attempt to escape and not come back when called. They had to wear collars for two weeks, since they seemed to be in more danger of running off than of getting into a collar snafu.

There are certainly risks to this state of affairs. A "naked" dog could accidentally be let out by a guest or a worker or just escape somehow, with all sorts of dire consequences. To offset that risk, I make sure that all dogs in my household are microchipped and thus identifiable even without a collar. I also make sure that my fence is secure, and I have a gate on my front porch so that no one can simply bolt out the front door.

I think you just have to assess your own situation for risk factors and go from there. For example, if you have a solitary, rather sedentary dog with predictable habits, then perhaps a collar with ID tags is fine. On the other hand, if you have multiple young dogs who love to grab each other by the neck and who aren't at risk of trying to bolt or escape the yard, then maybe you should dispense with the collars when the dogs are at home and not being supervised (such as when you're out). Better yet, if you're the type of person who can remember to switch from breakaway collars at home to non-breakaway collars outdoors, then that might be the best plan.

Just something to think about.

I wonder what Bordy is visualizing. Probably a big fish!

Similar to visualizing world peace (or whirled peas, as the case may be) but much more attainable, visualizing good behavior in your dog can help you realize your dog-training goals. It's a lot like when athletes practice in their own minds before a game or an athletic competition, except that it goes beyond mere practice. The skeptics among you may want to switch to another blog at this time, unless you feel like doing a little experiment.

Try this: The next time you're faced with a dog-training challenge, don't think about the thing that you're afraid might happen. Instead, visualize in your mind a great outcome—visualize the results you want. For example, picture your dog responding to you when you call him or her to come to you or sitting quietly as you trim his or her nails. It often can make a big difference, because when you keep a positive thought like that in your mind, you're giving off a different kind of energy that your dog can feel.

This is what Cesar Millan of Dog Whisperer fame calls "intention." I know, I know—I don't like everything he does, either (especially the episode that I just recently watched from the second season in which he used a shock collar―grrrr!), but I do think he's right on the money when he talks about intention and energy, and I haven't heard any other dog trainer talk about that. Basically, the idea is that you have to change your own thoughts in order to change the way you’re perceived by your dog, which, in turn, will change the way your dog reacts to you. So if you're thinking, "I just know Fluffy is going to run away from me" or "Fido never lets me cut his nails," and you’re holding those images in your mind, then that's the behavior you’ll get from them. But if you think, "This is going to work really well" and you picture the good behavior in your mind’s eye, it might just happen. It's certainly worth a good-faith try, and it can only help.

I have to say that it seems to work for me. Just yesterday, when I got to the beach with my big dogs, there was a man sitting down in an adjacent parking lot, frustrated because he couldn’t catch his dog. So I pictured myself catching his dog for him. Then I asked him the dog’s name, walked right up to her, said her name, and gently grabbed her collar. She didn’t even attempt to dart away!

Incidentally, this can work on people too. For the past few years when the weather has started to turn cold, I've gone around to any of my neighbors who are making their dogs stay outside (there’s a new batch of them every year) and offered them straw for their dogs' doghouses. And whenever I make the effort ahead of time to visualize the people accepting the straw, they always do.

Thoughts are powerful things—they can affect our physical health and our state of mind, so why shouldn’t they also affect our immediate surroundings?

OK, stop snickering and just try it! You might be surprised.