During the filming of the Dog Whisperer, I worked with so many families on rehabilitating more than 400 of their dogs. Before I met any of these people, I asked my production crew not to tell me what the problem or situation was. Having a clean slate when I first encountered the dog and talked with the family was essential for figuring out the root of the problem in the household. In almost every instance, the people typically told me the “story” about what was going on, but the dogs told me the “truth.” A dog’s energy is nothing but honest. By just observing the dog, I can get a good sense of what the situation really is.
We humans have a great ability to tell stories, and so we tell them to ourselves. Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t think any of these people were being willfully dishonest about their feelings or emotions, or what they perceived the problem to be. They weren’t doing it to be malicious, but rather to protect themselves. When humans don’t accept the truth about what’s going on inside them, it becomes more difficult to help their dogs. The most difficult cases I encounter are the ones where the human is in denial and attributing a complex explanation to his dog’s misbehavior. The only cases I was not able to solve were those in which the humans never overcame their denial.
I was explaining the difference between “truth” and “story” to a group of students who were attending the Training Cesar’s Way class in fundamentals at the Dog Psychology Center. To illustrate my point, I decided to use a real-life situation. There was a woman in the class we’ll call “Ann.” She has a therapy dog named “Monarch,” one of the most gentle and sensitive dogs you’ll ever meet. These are the very qualities that make him perfect for the job.
Ann said, “Monarch and I have a communication problem. He doesn’t always do what I tell him to do, and he is very timid when I give him direction.” This was Ann’s human story about what was happening. But her body language and her energy told a different one.
It was obvious to the other students that Ann was overly concerned about how Monarch was reacting to her. Her eyes darted down at Monarch to see his every reaction. She didn’t move deliberately and with confidence. She held on to the leash with very little slack so Monarch had to stay close by her side. She was overcompensating for Monarch’s perceived indifference to her commands.
The truth behind the situation was that Ann didn’t trust Monarch, and Monarch knew it. Now, think for a moment, would you follow a person or leader you knew didn’t trust you? Ann was too timid, too fearful, and she was projecting that energy to her dog. Because Monarch is a trained therapy dog, he is extra sensitive to humans, and especially sensitive to Ann’s behavior.
When I took Monarch’s leash, I held it very lightly with two fingers. Confidently and calmly, I walked Monarch through nonverbal commands that I gave with body movements. He followed without hesitation. Then I took off the leash entirely, and Monarch suddenly came to life. What was once a timid and tentative therapy dog was now a happy but calm, submissive creature. He performed every command with pleasure. The class applauded, and Monarch sat on his hind legs and then rolled over on his back—the ultimate sign of submission and confidence. Ann needed to get beyond her story and work with the truth—only then was she really able to help her dog.
You can practice dissecting the difference between story and truth with a friend or spouse. Write down what you think is the cause of a situation or upset within your household. Next, engage in an honest discussion about the causes of the upset. Write them down for everyone to see and examine. Peel away the causes like an onion until you get to the cold, hard truth about what’s really going on and what’s really causing the upset. Although this exercise can be intimidating, the end result will be freedom and release. In many of the Dog Whisperer cases in which people did overcome their denial, their stories usually ended with human tears, sighs of relief, and a rehabilitated dog.
