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Wednesday, Nov 25, 2009
"The Dog Whisperer" trains problem pooches and their wayward owners. But could he get my dog, Potus, and me to behave?
Feb 16, 2005 | My dog and I are not very well-trained. I don't floss regularly enough, I'm badly in need of a haircut and I sometimes don't return e-mails for weeks on end. Potus, who turns 1 year old this week, can sit and stay, but she hogs the bed, she doesn't always come when called, and she barks at other dogs if they look at her the wrong way.
Naturally, we were both extremely excited to meet Cesar Millan, aka "The Dog Whisperer," since we watch TiVoed episodes of his show together, usually at lunchtime. We love it when the dogs get really nervous or angry and Cesar puts them in their place with just a glare or a gesture. Potus picks her head up and stares at the screen whenever a dog runs around, whines or growls. "Yeah! Look at that bad doggie!" I say, then pass her a piece of my pizza crust.
I imagined that, at best, Cesar might offer a few tips on how to train Potus not to bark at other dogs while she's on the leash. But after meeting Cesar and visiting his Dog Psychology Center in South Central Los Angeles, it became clear that training was entirely beside the point. If I wanted a good dog, I'd have to develop the self-discipline and calm, assertive state of mind to be a good leader. Plenty of dog books stress the importance of dominance, but Cesar seems to embody his pack leader status with such grace and ease it makes the bellowed commands of other trainers look clumsy and ineffective. Having illegally immigrated from Mexico 14 years ago, Cesar has worked hard to emulate this country's icons of positive reinvention -- Oprah, Phil, Deepak -- and has developed the kind of self-possession and charisma that doesn't demand attention, but somehow calms and relaxes those in his midst. As he told me his story and explained his approach to his life, his relationships and his career, it quickly became clear that Cesar's ability to inspire easily transcends the realm of dog behavior.
But when I first greeted Cesar at the door, I mostly just wanted to pretend that Potus wasn't the boss of me. Like a whipped guy who acts tough, I yelled at Potus to lie down, and when she jumped up on Cesar seconds later, I feigned surprise and forced her into the down position again. Cesar didn't even look in the dog's direction -- which was very frustrating for her, since she's such a big fan of his work.
Cesar looked fit and drank from a big bottle of water, as if he'd just worked out. I imagined that he'd just gotten back from rollerblading through the streets of South Central with a pack of dogs, like at the beginning of "The Dog Whisperer." It's an absolutely mesmerizing image, the kind of thing I daydreamed about as a kid -- what could be better than being the boss of a whole team of loyal dogs, dogs obedient enough that they wouldn't tangle their leashes or chase cats or pull you into oncoming traffic?
But while you've never caught Timmy fixing Lassie with a domineering stare or imagined St. Francis of Assisi issuing silent reprimands to the little animals that clutched at the hem of his robes, Cesar makes it clear that having a pack of obedient animals in your midst isn't about speaking softly and carrying a big bag of Snausages.
"Most of my clients say, 'Well, my dog is my soul mate, but he wants to kill another dog!' So they achieve emotional energy or spiritual energy, but that doesn't mean the dog listens to them. You see? Dogs don't follow a lovable leader or a spiritual leader. We're the only species that has Gandhi. We're the only species that rescues other species: pandas, zebras, gorillas. The rest of the species won't. If they see somebody that's weak, they exterminate them."
Sadly, I assumed, like many dog owners probably do, that Potus was special and somehow transcended the instincts of her species. She's always been good-natured and relatively calm for a puppy, she listens pretty well, and she loves other dogs. At the dog park, she licks other dogs' faces and acts confident but easygoing. I figured I had the upper hand. Plus, I always thought that bad, dominant dogs were easy to spot, like my mom's Jack Russell, who quite possibly files as head of household on her tax return. But when Potus hit about 8 months, something changed: She started to act aggressive toward other dogs whenever she was on a leash. And all the "bad dog!s" and "no's" in the world seemed to have little effect.
Cesar suggests that trouble begins by giving dogs love without making them earn it. "You never hear that a homeless person's dog attacks somebody. It's always the dog that has a house with a professional human," he says. "Even in third-world countries, dogs are starving but they're not out of balance."
