Max's incredible breakthrough moment REVEALED!

In today’s email, I want to share a deeply transformative and emotional moment I experienced with Max, an American Alsatian dog from the Witcher litter bred by the Schwarz Kennels. Our journey together has had a remarkable beginning, and this particular moment stands out as a pivotal step in our understanding of each other.

When I first met Max, he had a prong collar on.

A dog training device used as a correction tool.

When I took possession of the 6-foot leash attached to the prong collar, Max traveled to the end of the leash, obviously his natural tendency, creating a harsh tightening on the tongs of the metal device. I knew Max was uncomfortable with the prongs tight against his skin, so I used the prong collar as it was meant to be used; I whipped the leash back sharply with just the right amount of pressure to tighten the prongs and then release the pressure completely on Max's neck.

Prong collars should NEVER be used like a flat collar.

A prong collar is solely a correction device and should sit on the dog’s neck in a neutral state 99% of the time… not constantly being pulled against.

But, I wanted to see how Max would react to slight, but sharp, correction.

He didn't like it one bit and let me know by giving me the side-eye and growling low.

His demeanor was pointed and clear.

Meant specifically for me.

I quickly realized I must take a step back and build a relationship with Max before he would allow me to correct him in any real way.

To save his neck, though, I took the prong collar off and replaced it with a slip lead.

Pro-tip: a simple slip lead does more to aid in properly communicating with a dog than any other type of leash. (Learn more about the slip lead: https://direwolfproject.com/direwolf-guardians/dog-training-equipment/slip-lead/)

Of course, Max continued to pull on the slip lead, but this way, the rounded cotton shape of the leash would not cause him sharp pain when it tightened as he constantly pulled.

That first night, after twelve or more hours of peaceful driving through Pennsylvania's beautiful countryside, Max was able to settle himself into the routine of the car's rolling rhythm. But, after all that time on the road, he needed to have a chance to potty and stretch his legs.

Taking a rescue dog out of the car to relieve himself for the first time, while the dog is disoriented and confused after being taken away from the only life he remembers, is very stressful. I needed to make sure to focus on our fledgling relationship, building trust and developing a positive bond.

So, I moved slowly and deliberately, respecting Max's wishes at every turn. I touched his face and put the slip lead around his neck in between lots of praise and calm affection.

When Max jumped out of the vehicle on his own, I was relieved.

No tugging required! PHEW!

He immediately jogged over to a tree and emptied his bladder.

At that point, I made several mistakes, which I bet others with more experience with rescue dogs would recognize right away. In the next few minutes, these mistakes would prove to be too overwhelming for Max.

Here's what I did.

1. In my attempt to reassure Max everything was going to be okay, I paid him too much positive attention. Kind of like a protective mother hovering over her willful child. It made him anxious and unsettled.
2. In an effort to allow him to have physical space away from me, I allowed him off leash inside an enclosed pet area of the truck stop. This gave him too much freedom, though, and an added opportunity to not comply, causing me to have to pursue him to get him back on the leash… also anxiety causing.

It was dark that night with eery lighting. A fluorescent streetlamp overhead was the only illumination.

Well, Max had enough of my positive doting and he didn't want to be placed back on the leash, so he opened his mouth, snarled broadly, and snapped the air in a very strong warning to…

BACK OFF!

Unfortunately, his teeth caught the fleshy part of my left forearm and punctured the skin causing it to bleed.

Immediately, Max’s eyes widened. The tension Max had felt came crashing down around him. His anxious feeling at being in a new environment with a strange unfamiliar human and not understanding anything at all about this crazy adventure consumed him. The adrenaline he felt spiked and his emotions got the best of him.

I learned several valuable lessons in that moment:

1. I understood as clear as Max’s pearly white teeth that my positive praise was not helping him relax.
2. We hadn't built enough of a trusting relationship yet.
3. Max obviously didn't understand me and thought I was being disingenuous.

As the blood oozed from my wounds, I sat on the bench nearby and gave Max the space he required.

Max surprised me, though.

In trueness to his pure companion dog soul, he appeared contrite and approached me with his head down and his body relaxed. I feel at this moment he also forgave me instantaneously for my having pushed him too far.

I pet him quietly in that dark, misty night...

and all alone…

just the two of us…

we came to understand how much we required of each other.

The next day, after a good night's sleep and several more hours of driving, I took Max out for exercise and potty break at a rest area. We had left the thick eastern forests many hours ago and now found ourselves in the more open farm fields of Ohio.

Max and I never again had an altercation like the previous night, both understanding one another better and respecting our limitations.

At that rest area, I knew we needed to deepen our ability to communicate with one another.

Just like Helen Keller acted before she had the chance to meet Anne Sullivan, Max ignored me completely, going only where he wanted to go, as if I were not holding the end of the leash on the other side.

Just like Anne Sullivan, I reached out to communicate to Max through the only way he could understand. Instead of placing his hand under the water and signing "water" like Anne Sullivan did, I stopped moving forward when Max pulled on the end of the leash. (See the scene from The Miracle Worker: https://youtu.be/v3sEHgKMV1w)

For several long minutes, Max stood still…

deep in thought…

with the leash tight…

unmoving.

Just like Helen Keller stood still for several moments after Anne Sullivan moved her hand again under the water then back to sign "water"…

Max waited.

His body still.

Then, a miracle happened.

…

Max finally fully understood my silent message and turned to acknowledge my presence... as if to ask, "Hey, dummy, don't you know you are supposed to move forward when I pull on the leash?"

But, my stoic response was clear.

I remained exactly as I was, a wall of staunch resistance.

A pillar with my own boundaries.

Then, after several more seconds, Max responded to my lack of motion by moving his front feet back toward me, loosening the pressure on the leash.

He had finally given in to someone else...

allowed another being to have a say in where he should go...

and received the message that another being had a voice and could speak to him.

Mrs. Keller! Mrs. Keller! He knows!!

And to my wonderful surprise, Max then gave me a gift.

In his gratitude for finally meeting a human being who could communicate to him, Max walked gently yet deliberately back to me, sat on my feet leaning his body into mine, looked up at me, and sighed deeply!

His entire being relaxed in a puddle of mush-filled respect and gratefulness.

Just like when Helen Keller took that next incredible life-altering breath, asking Anne Sullivan if her suspicions were right and she had indeed just learned to communicate one word in sign to another human-being…

Max finally grasped the reality that a human could properly communicate to him.

From then on he was more than happy to comply.

Whenever he trotted too quickly ahead and the leash became taunt, Max stopped, looked back at me and moved to loosen the leash…

all on his own.  

He did not require correction at all.

He simply required an understanding of reciprocal communication.

And in those next few days on the journey home, Max learned to give to the pressure of the leash...

Something dog trainers call "leash pressure" training.

And it is a fundamental communication skill in training any dog of any age.

Over the next few months, possibly through the winter and into next spring, I will be diligently working on my next book, Canine Culture Shock: Teaching Dogs Human as a Second Language. I want to help the Max’s of the world and their owners learn how to bridge the gap between canine culture and our own human one.

This book, with its accompanying video series depicting the lessons shared in the book, will be the foundation of a comprehensive dog training book unlike any other.

A course specifically designed for our softer, gentler canine friends…

The ones for whom treat shoveling and harsh corrections cause our dogs to turn away or wilt.

There is a way to teach a dog that honors their canine culture, but also teaches them how to live fluently in our foreign human one.

From time to time, I will share some parts of the book and video lessons with you here in our email newsletter.

Here’s the link to the Canine Culture Shock book’s coming soon page…
https://direwolfproject.com/direwolf-publishing/coming-soon1/canine-culture-shock/

I look forward to sharing more of our adventures and progress with Max as we continue to learn from each other. Together, we are unlocking the potential for a strong, loving, and communicative bond that will benefit both of us for years to come.

Jennifer Stoeckl is the co-founder of the Dire Wolf Project, founder of the DireWolf Guardians American Dirus Dog Training Program, and owner/operator of DireWolf Dogs of Vallecito. She lives in the beautiful inland northwest among the Ponderosa pine forests with her pack of American Dirus dogs.