“Just a boy and his dog”—learning from a cliché

Guest post by Sean, the fun one

I think there are actually some deep lessons to pull from the cliché about “a boy and his dog.” I know there’s a push in the dog-training world to do “better” than classic expectations, and Haley has made sure I get that there have been plenty of problems with historical ownership, but hear me out.

Two creatures. Just hanging out in fields and woods. Walking down dusty dirt roads. Taking on the challenges of the day together.

It’s a nice image. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be a boy, or even a dog, for the idea of such a comfortable connection between companions to be appealing. (My brain just immediately goes way back to when the main character of every single movie was male. You know… like a whole decade ago. One you learn about the Bechdel test, you can’t unsee it.)

Many of the dog stories I’ve been exposed to involve a loyal dog who occasionally gets himself into trouble with an independent streak but mostly just accompanies a boy on his journeys, always ready to provide the support he needs. The main takeaway for many? How loyal the dog is and how unworthy we are of such an angelic creature. “We don’t deserve dogs.”

Those emotions are fine to feel, but I think we can often miss what I see as the biggest (yet subtle) lesson as we leave the theater misty-eyed. One about psychology and social relationships.

What does learning really mean, from a dog’s perspective?

Training our dogs is important. There are many times that Scout needs to reliably have a skill or know a behavior.

But for daily life, maybe “training” isn’t quite the right way to think about it. We want Scout to learn these skills and behaviors — but it doesn’t necessarily need to be through treats or specific sessions. Sometimes getting caught up in training nerdiness can make us approach life with our dogs in a way that feels sterile to me.

The boy’s dog generally knows how to behave himself in the daily situations he and his master find themselves in, and we never see the boy conducting any sort of real training session.

Does that mean the story is lying? Are they implying the dog is magic? That life with canines should be effortless?

Well, yes and no. Yes, these tales do overdramatize the idea of perfect dogs. Sometimes it feels like “folk nonsense” — not every dog could be the dog in the story. Some dogs do best with other sorts of lifestyles, with more structure, more work-like engagement. The dogs on set have often been trained with treats or toys.

But no, the writers aren’t completely lying. Dogs have lived fairly harmoniously with humans for a long time. It’s worth considering that a strict definition of “training” is missing something important, even as our society has changed to where our canines need to follow more rules.

Time spent engaged makes relationships strong

To me, the boy is definitely training the dog, or at least teaching it, depending on how you view the words, even though he never pulls out a treat pouch.

I think a lot of that comes from how much time the two spend together. The boy and his dog go everywhere together and get to build their relationships through all kinds of experiences. That right there — just spending quality time as a team — is the most fundamental building block for a strong social bond.

I think one of the main benefits someone gets when they start training their dog for the first time is quite simply that it might be some of the first time they are paying focused, direct attention to their furry friend.

Sits and downs are wonderful, but what’s a more well-behaved, easier to live with dog: One who will do a down if you have your treats with you, or one who generally pays attention to you and follows your lead because it cares about being a good companion?

Personally, I’ll take the latter every time.

Scout is my friend

In my life with Scout, I mostly take the attitude of the boy. I spend quality time with her, just trying to be enjoyable to be around, and Scout cares to listen to my cues. We often find ourselves communicating all kinds of complex information to our cattle dog with words, grunts, or body language that we never set out to explicitly teach her.

A lot of that does have to do with her genetics as a velcro herding breed. But even if she was a more independent dog, I think the difference in how much she would care about me because of our social relationship would be enormous.

I think of my relationship with Scout like we’re hanging out, caring about and supporting each other, but fundamentally having our own lives and experiences at the end of the day. When my human skills are needed, I have the responsibility to navigate the world for both of us in the way that only I can.

But just like the boy and his dog, most of the actual minutes of the day don’t require a master/minion relationship. Mostly, we are more or less equals, going about our lives, expressing our interests, and respecting each other as individuals.

Using the psychology of social animals

When the first thought to teaching life skills involves treat bags, we miss out on building the underlying social drive that guides most of our dog’s behaviors. The dog still learns what is and isn’t ok because the boy tells it through social cues. The boy and the dog still play awesome games together, even if they aren’t perfectly structured the way we often do it with our minds set on training.

In fact, the dog still learns all kinds of commands and behaviors — they just aren’t the “pretty” way with clean reward markers, food rewards, or clickers. It’s through more complex contextual and physical cues. And maybe surprisingly, the dog still has pretty solid clarity about what is expected from it.

(Don’t worry: I’m not hating on clean markers and different training tools. Haley would never publish this if I were but I do think it’s worth considering the social piece more.)

To me, it’s kind of like I’m teaching Scout social norms like how I learned them. Our parents explain a lot about how to behave to us, but we also learn a ton from just watching, imitating, and generally figuring out what to do when. And when we get a weird look, we make a note to do something different in that circumstance next time.

Trusting in our relationship

It’s very important to me that Scout will do what I need her to, not just when she’s feeling like being nice to me. What I’ve found is that her socially-taught behaviors are just as solid from a lifestyle, useful, and practical manner. No, they don’t have the reflex and speed that her “down” does after 1000 repetitions with a reward. (And it is cool that she has reliable obedience!)

But I don’t need Scout to be robotic. In our pet life I pretty much never need the 100% consistent and immediate behaviors that competitive dogs require, that so much training tries to replicate without really knowing why.

The average owner who trains never needs it, either. And besides, most dog owners (looking at you, Haley) who use markers/technical concpets aren’t that clean or 100% consistent anyway. It’s a good goal to strive toward, but is it the end all be all?

The more time I spend in the dog world, the more I’m starting to believe that most of the ease of living well with a dog comes from developing a social drive and relationship. I think the best case is to have both a strong relationship with some more nitty-gritty training layered on top.