Am I The Problem?
A lot of the things we don’t like that our dogs do aren’t training problems. They’re the result of how the environment is set up.
We agonize over baby-proofing a house. And when it comes to reptiles, guinea pigs, rabbits, or birds, we work incredibly hard to create an appropriate habitat—making sure they have things to prevent boredom, the right materials in their tank or enclosure, and a species-appropriate diet.
We understand how important environment is for health and well-being. We invest time and effort making sure that a baby or pet has a space that is safe and secure—an enclosure, whether that’s a cage, a room, an aquarium, or a crib.
What Changes When Dogs Enter the Picture
But when it comes to dogs and cats, we bring these creatures into our homes, set them free, and expect them to know what’s safe and what isn’t. We expect them to know what’s appropriate to chew, what counts as a toy, and that a set of headphones or a remote control is strictly for humans. We expect them to know the rules—or figure them out for themselves.
When it comes to dogs in particular, we put very little effort into structuring their environment so that learning what’s allowed is easy—and mistakes, like chewing a pair of shoes, are hard to make. And yet, we expect a puppy, kitten, dog, or cat to just know what belongs to them and what doesn’t.
Most of what we arrange is focused on our wants and needs: protecting our stuff, avoiding potty accidents, and keeping bowls and supplies somewhere convenient—or matching our home décor. Crates are one of the few times we do think in terms of containment—and even then, it’s often more about protecting our stuff than teaching the dog.
We put the responsibility solely on them and provide very little guidance or support—other than being quick to point out their mistakes, through punishment or emotional reactions. Not only is that completely unfair, it also sets you up for frustration. Who’s really to blame when the headphones get chewed, the couch cushions get ripped up, or the garbage gets raided? It might feel better to blame someone—especially an easy target like a dog.
The Shower Saga
Whenever I take a shower, Hank pushes open the bathroom door. So as soon as I turn off the water and reach for a towel, I’m hit with a blast of Arctic air, completely ruining any relaxing vibes after a long day. I used to get mad about it—as if he had any idea that what he’d done offended me, or that he was trying to piss me off.
Hank’s just doing what dogs do. He has access to the bathroom. Opening that door has led to a whole bunch of positive outcomes for him. As a dog trainer, my clothes usually have some pretty interesting smells on them, and he’s had a great time grabbing a pair of my pants or a sweater and finding Hazel for a little game of tug-of-war. It’s also warm in there, with a fluffy bath mat we’ve done some stay training on. Every time he opens that door, something good happens for him.
It’s human nature to want to blame someone when things go wrong—even when those things aren’t really that bad. It feels better to have someone else to blame than to look in the mirror in situations like this.
We have a convenient scapegoat—someone to take our frustration out on instead of ourselves. Who better than a dog who can’t explain their behaviour or challenge our assumptions?
But the fact of the matter is, I need to take responsibility for my own behaviour. The only one to blame here is me.
The worst part is that this situation is so easy to fix. All I have to do is move my hair dryer so the door closes properly. It takes two seconds. Or I could keep doing this dance—getting pissed off every time my shower gets ruined.
The next time your dog does something that annoys you, pause before reacting. Think about how their environment is set up. Think about what changes would stop that behaviour from happening in the first place.
