Thoughts on the AKC Canine Good Citizen title
When I first adopted Scout in 2019, I set my sights on the Canine Good Citizen test. My mom was going through the process as part of certifying her school therapy dog—and in the previous few years entering the training world with my family’s husky, I’d started to view the title as an almost necessary starting point to be a “good” owner.
While my cattle dog did officially earn her CGC last spring, I’ve actually come to care less and less about the distinction over time. Here are my thoughts!
How I feel about the overall Canine Good Citizen sentiment
What parts of the test I think are great
How every owner has different goals
And a bit about our personal experience earning the title
First: Titles are just pieces of paper… or are they?
When Scout earned her trick dog titles in 2021—the first official dog-world recognition she’d ever received!—I was absolutely thrilled. I kept smiling at the papers on our fridge. (Beaming, more like. Smiling is an understatement.)
At the same time, I also recognized that in many ways her titles were just that: pieces of paper. As someone whose primary goal is to live well with my pet dog (read: I’m not looking to get into the breeding or sport communities) a title is nowhere near the most important thing. No document could fully reflect the quality of our relationship.
Here’s how I’ve come to think about dog world titles overall:
It’s remiss to say that a title is just a piece of paper. Titles often represent hours of work and bonding! Even the “little” ones are an accomplishment, especially for an owner who has struggled with any sort of behavioral problems.
It’s also remiss to place inordinate weight on titles. Dogs, humans, and our relationships are too complex to be defined merely by “official” recognition. Just because a dog has no titles doesn’t mean they aren’t a beloved, amazing part of their family. (And vice versa if they do have letters after their name.)
Titles are most important in communities I’m not personally a part of (but that have immense value). As a supporter of ethical breeding, I believe it’s important for breeders to “prove” their dogs before having puppies. I’m also in awe of the organized dog sport world and recognize how much joy working towards a title can bring.
Ultimately: Titles can mean so much to individual canine-handler teams, training programs, and breeding prospects. They can also mean almost nothing a pet owner who just wants a family companion. Nuance as always!
What is the AKC Canine Good Citizen title?
As far as dog titles go, the Canine Good Citizen strikes me as most relevant to “everyday” pet owners. According to the AKC, “The AKC Canine Good Citizen (CGC) program provides a framework for training your dog to become a polite member of society. The 10 test items on the CGC test are practical, functional behaviors that every dog should have to be welcomed in the community.”
The ten items are:
Accepting a friendly stranger (remaining neutral while someone approaches and speaks to their handler)
Sitting politely for petting (allowing the stranger to touch them, not showing shyness or aggression)
Handling grooming (allowing the stranger to handle their paws and brush their fur)
Walking on a loose leash (no pulling around a few turns and stops)
Walking politely through a crowd (at minimum a few people standing about)
Sit, down, and stay on cue
Coming when called (from the stay cue to handler a short distance away)
Neutral reaction to another dog (approaching head on while leashed, not interacting)
Reaction to a distraction (like dropping an item nearby on the ground)
Supervised separation from handler (two minutes while owner is out of sight)
Things I love about the Canine Good Citizen
I really appreciate the sentiment behind the Canine Good Citizen test. Being a responsible dog owner is important to me—and part of that is showing respect in shared public spaces. Not everyone loves dogs. Out-of-control dogs can cause a slew of problems. The idea of a general, high level framework handlers are encouraged to follow is great!
Attaching a title to that framework can also encourage “everyday” owners to spend a bit more time training their dogs to enjoy that cool sense of accomplishment. And attending group classes or working with a trainer for the CGC, even just briefly, can be a growth experience.
Parts of the Canine Good Citizen I find unnecessary or outdated
But I don’t think the CGC directly equates to real-world public respect as it’s currently set up. This is for a few reasons:
The testing environment can often fail to accurately represent how a dog behaves in less structured settings (this is a potential problem with many tests and titles—certainly not a dealbreaker but something to be aware of depending on long-term goals)
Some of the Canine Good Citizen test items aren’t that relevant to how most dogs and owners spend time in public
What really makes a dog a “good citizen”?
Perhaps my greatest struggle with across-the-board, specific standards like the CGC is that the idea of “good” can be so broad. How much nuance are we willing to entertain? What kind of environment does the dog live in? What are their owner’s individual goals?
I absolutely agree that there are some baseline things that make a dog safe and polite out in public. My personal list would be not invading anyone else’s space without permission, enough impulse control / frustration tolerance for the situation at hand, and basic communication between dog and owner to navigate challenges that could feasibly come up.
Many of the CGC items do test those skills in roundabout ways. (And of course it’s difficult to design a test that perfectly encapsulates everything the “average” person wants from their dog in typical situations.)
There’s no reason a dog has to be actually touched by, or left with, a stranger in most settings
But a few of the CGC test items strike me as actually unnecessary. Do some owners want social butterfly dogs who are always happy to interact with strangers? Certainly! And sociability is a fine personal goal. But to assert that a dog needs to be happy being pet by a stranger—or being left alone with that stranger—in order to be a “good citizen” rubs me the wrong way.
In most everyday environments, it’s perfectly fine if Scout doesn’t want someone to actually touch her. Of course she needs to be safe and respectful (read: not a bite risk and able to handle surprises when they happen). But she doesn’t have to be happy sitting still while someone she doesn’t know touches her face and feet.
It’s also rare that I’d ever leave her with someone unfamiliar. Not because of her behavior—but because of my own risk assessments. She’s one of the most important things in the world to me. I am no more likely to ask a stranger to watch her while I go completely out of sight than I am to randomly give someone my wallet.
While handling separations from primary caregivers is an important skill for dogs to have (you can read about our personal crate training process here) I don’t think this CGC test item is the best representation of it.
Vet visits are an exception here
The CGC says the handling grooming and being left with a stranger test items are meant to emulate vet visits. While I understand where they’re coming from (again: I’m very supportive of the sentiment behind the title!) I think there are key differences between the situations.
At the vet, we’re able to advocate for our dogs by introducing slowly if needed, telling the staff how to best interact with them, and easing into more challenging tasks like blood draws. We can counter condition the environment and be there for additional restraint or encouragement. That’s quite different than someone approaching while we sit still and immediately bending over to touch our dogs’ heads.
Plus most pet owners I know fully understand why our dogs might be nervous being handled by a non-family member in a clinic environment. Showing some shyness or reservation doesn’t strike me as immediate grounds to be labeled “not a good citizen”.
Our experience getting Scout’s Canine Good Citizen Title
Scout officially earned her Canine Good Citizen last April in a group class we took for more structured exposure to other dogs. We didn’t enroll in the class specifically to test—by that point adding “CGC” to the end of her name wasn’t a primary goal—but it was a happy side effect.
She had the easiest time with the loose leash, sit / down / stay, recall, and (somewhat surprisingly) reaction to another dog parts of the test. Neutral and responsive as I’ve come to feel so proud of!
She struggled most with the tester grabbing her feet and brushing her. The fast approach was off putting (the trainer liked to “come in hot”) and I think struck her as an unnatural social situation (which to be fair, it was). In one particularly rough class I trusted the trainer too much and failed to advocate for my dog like I should have. While we bounced back quickly by the final session, Scout’s body language was still almost enough for us to fail. (And enough for me to say screw it, we do not need this title if it’s going to put you in an unfair situation.)
This is definitely the personal basis for where my feelings about not all of the test items being required to be a “good citizen” come from. Scout is a dog who can safely visit restaurant patios & public yoga classes, who spent our wedding week living in a big house with 30+ people (some of whom she’d never met), who’s attended multiple group classes… but due to her discomfort being directly approached and handled by someone she didn’t trust, she was almost refused the “good citizen” label.
Ultimately: The CGC is a great concept that might slightly miss the mark in practice
At the end of the day, I think the Canine Good Citizen is a solid goal for most dogs and owners. It’s a fairly straightforward test that measures some important skills if we want to take our pets out in public with us.
Is it perfect? No (nothing is). Do I think every item is necessary for a dog to be considered a “good” citizen? Also no. It’s a fine starting point—and definitely something to be proud of if we do decide to obtain it—but not the “end all be all” of responsible dog ownership.