Training Azza 12

I’ve commented before on what I believe is a fundamental
miswiring in the brains of feral or “desert” dogs such as Azza. They engage in
behaviors that are unusual in most domesticated dogs. They are overly sensitive to environmental triggers that many domesticated dogs would ignore. It isn’t simply a case of socialization or training. I’ve had Azza since she was about 7 weeks old and she’s as well socialized and trained as any dog I’ve had. While necessary, socialization and training are not even close to being sufficient to make these dogs '"normal.” As is the case with any wild animal, we are at best only taming them. I’ve begun to view working with Azza as a project to provide her with tools to cope with the world. Training isn't going to make her "normal" but it will help her to be less stressed and fearful. She is now a year old and while she can be incredibly frustrating to manage at times, I have to admit that she and I have come a long way together.

In the past two years, I’ve worked with about 10 different
desert dogs in private training settings and I’ve seen a good cross section of the behaviors that they can exhibit. Most of them prefer to flee than fight but they will offer subtle yet clear signals when they are thinking about attack. When they are pushed to the point of attack, it is amazingly quick, nearly silent, and often extremely violent (that is, their intent is to kill or disable). No half measures with these dogs.

The feral dogs are incredibly lithe, lean, and strong. There is a lot of power packed into those skinny bodies. Handling them is not for the faint of heart or will. You have to be willing to stand your ground and you have to be extremely consistent. For example, Azza is trained to sit at doorways. I taught her this mainly to prevent her from bumping Harry in a clusterfuck rush in and out. She will not go in the house until I give a verbal release and a hand signal. And the hand signal must come from my right hand, the hand closest to her. If I gesture with my left hand or give a verbal only or fail to give a verbal at all, she won't move. In other words, she is beautifully trainable but remarkably inflexible in applying that training. Everything has to be done exactly the same way every time or she gets worried, stressed, anxious, and then begins to act out.

Pfft, you say, that's hardly an example of problematic behavior. But it is a good example of her inability to function in unfamiliar situations, even though the only "unfamiliar" aspect of that is the use of my left hand instead of my right. If something as trivial and simple as that makes her worry, imagine her reaction when confronted with much more chaotic situations. When one of these tornadoes wrapped in dog skin acts out, there can be problems. But they are problems that can be managed if you are willing to put in the training time.

I started working earlier this year with a couple who had adopted a desert dog puppy they found wandering the streets. I did a series of private lessons with them during the summer and they signed up for my basic obedience class. As of Thursday, they had successfully completed 5 weeks of it. The dog was quite typical for a desert feral but had a set of fear issues that I thought was far smaller and less problematic than Azza's. I thought all was well with them until I got a call from the woman on Friday asking me about a problem they were having when they were walking the dog.

Upul and I have been working through the exact same problem with Azza all summer long. You'd be walking along thinking all was well when she'd suddenly flip out and start to leap and lunge and nip and bite at you. The behavior was random and I could never identify a trigger. After watching her carefully, I decided that she was wasn't acting out from fear. But beyond that I still don't know why she behaved this way. Rather than anthropomorphize, I could only observe her actions and devise a plan to deal with them. In the end, the best way to handle these fits was to grab her collar and wait them out. She nipped Upul for quite a bit longer than she did me because he wasn't willing (at first) to be firm enough with her. It took nearly all of my strength to hold on to her some days. She acted like she was possessed by an evil spirit or perhaps having some sort of fantastic stroke. It was incredibly frustrating because it was random.

After suffering through a couple of months of this, I realized that I needed to change my approach. I upped the rate of rewards she got during walks to a treat delivered every few feet (we are going through kibble at a prodigious rate) and that has made a huge difference. Azza would much rather have a bunch of treats than be collared until she calms down. She gets a treat for not eating stuff off the ground. She gets a treat for calmly looking at a scary abaya wafting by or a terrifying kid on a skateboard shooting past then looking back at me. She gets a treat for walking in heel position on a loose lead. She now ever so gently bumps my hand with her nose if she thinks she's being good and hasn't had a reward in the past 30 seconds! In short, I began a training and reward frenzy and over a period of a couple of months reshaped her behavior so that there simply isn't room for her fits.

I spoke to the woman on the phone about ways to deal with their dog's fits, relating some of the problems I had with Azza and some of the things that worked for us, and I emailed them first thing Saturday morning with more detailed advice. Given their success to date, I had every expectation that they would work through this with their dog.

So you can imagine my horror when I got an email this morning from the man telling me that they decided to put the dog to sleep.

PM, MW, and I joined forces tonight and let our pack of five dogs run wild in an empty backyard. While watching Nellie pound Azza into the dirt while Mimi looked for an opportunity to sneak in a bite and Boodle danced around the edge of the melee barking ever so threateningly and Harry nosed around in the grass around our feet for something to nibble on, we drank a toast to poor Roxie.

I'm mad, I'm sad, I'm disappointed. I know that this didn't have to happen. But now it's done and I must find a way to learn something from it. If nothing else, it convinces me to redouble my efforts with Azza. I won't throw her away just because she's difficult.