Baxter and I headed out for our morning walk. It was a lovely morning. I wasn’t pressed for time, so I decided to take a longer route than usual—a route that we walk only a handful of times a year.
We trotted along, Baxter sniffing all of the smells and spreading his scent around.
Then partway through he dug in his heels. “Nope. I’m not going any further.”
My first assumption is I have a very lazy dog and going on a longer walk had obviously worn him out. Plus we’d met some people and walked past a few farms where we’ve met dogs before. He wanted to socialize. He was stubborn.
He was annoying.
We had a discussion. “You don’t need to sniff all the smells, meet all the people and see all the puppies. We are walking. Now let’s go.” And I set off dragging my dog. It was not graceful.
Lindsay posted last month about what to do when your dog refuses to walk. Changing the pace was something I tried, but I could barely get Bax to take a step, so speeding up wasn’t happening.
I didn’t relish changing the route because we had two choices: forward or back. Bax and I were nearly halfway. Even if we’d turned around, we had more than 3 kilometres to walk to get home. If my dog was tired already, he’d still be tired going the other way.
We trudged along, Bax strung out behind me dragging as much as possible. Me grumbling and stomping along.
Eventually I spotted a mailbox that I know is one of his favourite spots to sniff and leave his scent. So we took a break.
As we stood there, I started to think. Baxter wasn’t tired. He was scared—or at least extremely unenthused about what was ahead on the route.
Just up the road lived a not very nice dog. If he’s outside, he’s rarely tied up, and he’s come running out at us a few times. He’s not vicious, but he is aggressive. My husband and I have both ended up physically pushing this dog away from Baxter, all the while yelling at the house for someone to come and get their dog.
The experiences haven’t been bad enough to dissuade me from walking this route, but obviously they were for Baxter.
I felt very bad for not hearing what my dog had been telling me. We had another discussion. “We’ll cross to the other side of the road. You stay on the far side of me. We’ll just walk and won’t stop. I’ll keep you safe.”
There was still dragging, but I kept Baxter closer to me, rather than stretched out behind. I kept a steady pace. I talked quietly and encouragingly to Baxter rather than giving him the silent treatment or being harsh—as I had been earlier.
The dog was outside, and he started barking. Fortunately, he only came partway down the driveway rather than out onto the road, so Baxter and I just kept walking until we were safely passed. Then we took another break for a stress relieving sniff.
The rest of the walk went smoothly. No more dragging. And I learned an important lesson to not assume I know what is driving my dog’s behaviour. Take a minute and think about the situation, including alternate explanations for what he’s feeling.
And to be clear, we will no longer be walking this route.
Note: Julia Thomson is a blogger at Home on 129 Acres where she writes about her adventures of country living and DIY renovating. She writes regularly for That Mutt.
Have you ever misunderstood what your dog is telling you?
What are some tips that you use to tune in to your dog?