The best little dog in the world

My very good little (well, more medium-sized now) dog lies snoring on the armchair. What a different dog he is from a few weeks ago. Today I was so exhausted I gave him the run of the house with my disabled cat while I rested. I had no fear the dog would hurt or even threaten the cat. In my up moments the dog and I played tennis ball soccer in the hall and he was perfectly behaved – no biting or jumping. I can now go out into the yard with him and he doesn’t bite or jump up 95% of the time. When he does it takes only a short application of my new techniques before he reverts to a perfect gentleman, trotting calmly at my heels. I can sit on the couch with him and have a cuddle without being bitten or harassed.

I’m so proud. Not only of him, but of myself. Had I given up on him when he first started playing up, decided he was a problem dog or that the situation was beyond me, I would have missed out on all this fun and closeness. I feel a huge sense of accomplishment and pleasure at my success. It also reinforces for me that my general approach to problems works – keeping an open mind, believing they are solvable, gathering information, assessing pros and cons, forming action plans.

But the most important thing of all is that I didn't give up. Whether it’s dog problems or depression, I’ve learned that simply persisting in trying to find a solution is the key to succeeding. I know that just as with a badly behaved dog, depression can be tamed – there are more effective therapies out there than you can shake a stick at. It’s just a matter of trying different things until something(s) works. Then keeping on with it until it becomes a habit, just as coming when I say ‘come’ is becoming a habit with my sweet, well-behaved little, sorry, medium-sized dog.

Unless I control the dog the dog controls my moods - or does he?

I have discovered the secret to controlling Barney barndog. It is by doling out miniscule portions of wet cat food (known in the vernacular as ‘jelly meat’) whenever he behaves as I desire. World domination is mine, provided I keep up stocks of Gourmet cat food. (Manufacturers please note, I’m ripe for a sponsorship deal here.) It occurred to me last night that I write about my dog so much in this blog that it’s a dog blog more a happiness blog. Maybe I should retitle it Bringing up Barney? Authentic Obedience? The How of Dog Training? Hmmm. It’s a thought. (I didn’t say a good one.)

The reality is that Barney’s behavior has a huge impact on my moods. When he is bitey, on days when walking round the yard is made difficult by having to drag behind me the creature attached by the teeth to my trousers or boots, when my hands are bleeding and sore from his nips – I really experience a lot of negative emotions. Anger, hatred, frustration, shame, rage, misery, despair. All my old feelings of failure and inferiority come rushing back. I have to work extra hard not to take it personally, not to project it into the future as a never-ending failure, not to feel my whole life is crappy. In fact as I write I realise it’s about the three p’s of learned optimism – personalization, permanence and pervasiveness. The four p’s when you add in Barney’s accidents on the carpet. (Not the kind of p Martin Seligman had in mind I suspect.)

Now that I’m fully implementing the Dog Listener method life is much happier, and so am I. Today we’ve only had a couple of bitey episodes, strictly confined to the blanket, which soon ceased when I ignored him. Other than that he has been a sweet, playful, loving little dog. Right now he’s sound asleep on one side of the fire while my white cat sleeps on his blanket on the other side. Even Barney’s attempts to take over Bowie’s blanket have been so half-hearted that a look and a raised eyebrow on my part put an end to them. (Barney has a bad case of blanket envy.) Today I feel happy, even light hearted, playful and elated (it’s good to get full value from my thesaurus). It’s easy for me to assume this is because Barney is good. But I know it’s much more to do with how I’m thinking. While it’s tempting to believe that good dog = good mood, I have a lot more control over it than that. It is situations like this that make me glad I know so much about identifying the thoughts that make me feel bad and modifying them. And that I have a copy of The Dog Listener!

Success (sort of) using problem solving techniques

Today I went and sat in the sun with Barney on his duvet and we had an almost bite-free pleasant time. He snuggled into my side, biting on his chew toy instead of me or my clothes. This is such a contrast to even two days ago when sitting on the duvet with him outside would lead to a vicious wrestling match ending with me angry and nursing sore, bleeding hands, almost hating him. Now Barney is snoozing by the wood burner on his blanket, looking like a placid puppy who wouldn’t dream of biting anyone.

This seems like a miracle, and I hope it lasts. I achieved it the way I’ve achieved every improvement in my mood, every conquest of a relapse of depression – by trial and error, researching the evidence, reviewing what I’ve tried so far – what worked, what didn’t – and brainstorming new ways around the problem. My father taught me problem solving techniques when I’d had a fight with my best friend at 16. Despite initial scepticism I found them marvellous and have used them ever since. They’ve been reinforced by the problem solving approach inherent in cognitive therapy, which I’ve been using for over quarter of a century.

So it is natural to apply a problem solving approach to the Barney situation. I know I’m doing something that is accidentally rewarding his biting. Somehow I need to get the message into his little doggie head that biting results in no fun. I’ll keep trying, reviewing, revising until I get back the non-bitey dog I first knew and liked. I just went outside and got nipped again so it’s back to the drawing board, but I know I’ll get there in the end if I just keep trying and don’t give up.