Taming Tiny

The phone rings, and a frantic voice is asking me if I can help with a dog. A friend of a friend has a Leonberger, and no, I had never heard of one either. I go to meet the people and their dog, believing that my mission will be to help them with some training tips. I arrive to see this magnificent creature inside a large crate and wearing a pronged collar. His people tell me he is "out of control," and they have been told by professional trainers and the Leonberger Rescue Society that he needs to be put down. I learn he's put into the crate whenever another person or dog is around, or when he is "misbehaving," or whenever it is convenient. They tell me he has bitten people twice. Strange stories they tell me—one was a man who was bitten on the arm, but the skin was not broken. This "dangerous" dog with a head the size of a Volkswagen did not even break the skin? I am told the pronged collar is the only way they can possibly walk him. I'm also told he must take "Prozak or Valium for dogs" daily. I go home with yet another "throwaway" dog. The pronged collar and drugs are immediately thrown away. The crate is left in the back of the pickup. I named him “Tiny” because he’s a tiny bit bigger than 120 pound Mikey. Because I was told it was "necessary" for his previous people to crate him at night, Tiny is "separated" from my other dogs for the first night—he slept beside my bed while the four others were at the head of the bed. He is not separated from them after that first night. And although there are times when tensions have to be defused, I see no semblance of the dog I was told could never be trusted around other canines. The following morning we go to the vet, and this "out of control" monster cooperates nicely as the doctor pokes and prods him. Other than being 20 pounds underweight, he appears to be healthy. If I was that thin, I would be "out of control" as well—looking for food! The third day we begin to use a leash for more than just getting from vehicle to vet's office. We go out the gate, and I quickly learn that his strength matches the size of his giant paws. He wants to pull me this way and that and then rush and jump up on me. And when he jumps up, he is right at eye level. What am I to do? Dig his pronged collar and tranquilizers out of the trash? Find someone younger and stouter than me to control him? No, it was all so simple. We began Dialogue. I said, "Tiny, let's go for a walk!," and away he starts to run. I do a 180, and then another, and another, and another. It takes about five minutes for this big beast, who earlier was doing all he could to dislocate my shoulder, to be walking calmly beside me. I could not surprise him with an abrupt turn.... Five weeks later now, and Tiny eagerly and politely has met many of my friends and neighbors—the two- and four-legged varieties. The anxiety that filled him and led to the jumping up behavior is almost totally gone. A few days ago while on a walk, we sat and calmly watched some elk crossing the trail about thirty yards ahead of us. I am looking forward to my elderly mother or small grandchildren taking him for a walk just as they do my other big, strong dogs. And guess what. Dialogue is a good cure for anxiety belching. When Tiny first arrived, he belched many, many times a day. Now it is very infrequent. The vet had told me it was probably anxiety. The previous owners told me he did it "all the time." He does it very infrequently now—more proof that Dialogue is better than pills. Tom, Colorado