Mr. Barky Barkerson

My own dog is a beautiful Shetland sheepdog named Orbit. In common with many dogs he also has a number of nicknames: Orbers, Orbie, Orbiedo, the Fluffmeister, Shithead and, more recently, Barky Barkerson because, in common with many Shetland sheepdogs, he has learned to bark. He didn’t bark much at first, but you could tell he was often thinking about it. Lorraine and I, both being veterinarians and knowing the breed, were very careful to discourage barking. Some people make the mistake of trying to train their dog only to bark when a stranger comes to the door. Perhaps they’ll succeed, but more often than not, once a dog is allowed to bark for one reason, they will find justifications for barking for a dozen reasons. “That leaf, it could have been a threat! Never trust a leaf.” Or, “Ok, now I know that that noise was just a figment of my imagination, but it could have been the start of a barbarian invasion!” We did not allow Orbit to bark for any reason, but this was like trying to keep the lid on a jar of nitroglycerin. You just know it’s going to blow someday. (Yes, yes, I know that nitroglycerin doesn’t come in jars and that if it did, keeping the lid on would be the least of your worries, but you get the picture.)

That someday was one evening when a group of four of my friends showed up, hammered loudly on our front door and then waltzed in before I could get to the door, startling Orbit and rearranging four of his five neurons (I said he was beautiful, I didn’t say he was smart). He began to bark furiously at them and since that day barks whenever there is a knock on the door. Not only does he bark whenever there is a knock on the door, but he also barks whenever he thinks there is a knock on the door. This encompasses a breathtakingly wide array of knock-like sounds associated with cooking, cleaning and just life in general. After years of counselling people to avoid letting their dogs bark, here I had a dog that barked like a deranged fool when I so much as accidentally hit the side of a saucepan with a wooden spoon.

So, the problem is clear, but what’s the solution? Dogs are like humans in that acquiring a bad habit is the easiest thing in the world to do, but unacquiring is an entirely different matter. It takes a lot of work and it takes a lot of time. At its most basic level you want to negatively reinforce the bad behavior and positively reinforce the good. Now, before I go on, I should emphasize that negative reinforcement is not the first choice for most behaviours. For example, when you're housetraining a puppy, you ignore the bad behaviour (and positively reinforce the good), and when you're trying to stop a dog from chewing your shoes, you redirect away from the bad behaviour (and reinforce the good). In most cases ignoring or redirecting is the way to go. But ignoring does not work for barking, and in Orbit's case, redirecting did not work either. He was that dedicated to his task. A workaholic barker.

In theory, this all sounds simple enough, but the real trick is that you have to do it consistently. For a barker, the positive is easy enough. If ever someone happens to knock on our door and Orbit doesn’t bark, he gets rewards and lavish praise. This doesn’t happen very often. The negative reinforcement is tougher though. I recommend a squirt gun or a plant mister accompanied by a firm no. Squirt him in the face each time he barks and say no in as gruff a tone as you can muster. The problem is the consistency. The barking is self-reinforcing, meaning each time he barks he feels even more like barking the next time, so if you only squirt him one out of three times, the barking is winning two to one. Practically speaking this means having squirt guns or bottles placed all around the house so that one is always at hand. Or I suppose you can keep one in a holster, but you might get funny looks. Regardless, you will have to do it a thousand times in row to be effective. It’s exhausting.

Incidentally, if your dog is one of those weirdos who likes being squirted in the face, you’ll have to find something else he doesn’t like, such as perhaps a blast from an athletic whistle. And I don’t recommend the bark collars, certainly not the shock ones. The ones that spray citronella had potential when they were first released, but I found that many dogs just learned to tolerate the citronella spritz. They have the advantage that you do not need to be home for it provide negative reinforcement, but if you can do the spraying with water you can control the dose, as it were, to get the desired effect. The first few times Orbit ended up with a dripping wet face before he stopped barking, but now we often just have to reach for the bottle and squints his eyes, lowers his head and, yes, stops barking.

I wish I could end the story there. Unambiguous success. Clever veterinarian triumphs over foolish barking dog. But life is rarely so simple. Recall that I said that consistency was key. Too often I can’t find a squirt bottle at that moment, or my hands are full, or I’m not near enough to where he is, or… insert a dozen other excuses. In short, we are not consistent. He barks less, but still too much. However, should the barbarian invasion actually come, we’ll have ample warning. There’s always an upside.