Stop Spending Your Dog's Recall on Bad News

Quick answer: Never call your dog for something he hates, and pay him every time he comes. Build it on a 30-foot line, one distraction at a time, and don't let him practice ignoring you.

Your dog knows the word. He's known it for months. What he's also figured out is what it usually means: the walk is over, the bath is ready, the dog park is done for the day.

So when a rabbit breaks out of the hedgerow and you yell "Come!", he runs the numbers. Rabbit or bath. It's not a close call.

That's the whole problem. Most dogs that won't come aren't stubborn or dumb. They've been taught, one honest mistake at a time, that coming to you costs them something.

Count your own calls

For one day, keep a tally. How many times did you call him to end something he liked? Leaving the yard. Clipping the leash on. Nail trims. Crating him before you left for work.

Now count the times you called him and then something good happened.

If the first number wins, you've been spending his recall like a man with a credit card. Stop. Anything unpleasant, you go and get him. Walk over, clip the leash, handle it. Save the word for good news.

Then start making deposits. A dozen times a day, say the word in a normal voice when he's close by and doing nothing special. When he arrives, feed him. Then tell him "go play" and let him go back to whatever he was doing. That last part matters most. Coming to you has to be a round trip, not a one-way ticket to the end of the fun.

Gear, and a fresh word

If the old word is burned, pick a new one. "Here" works. A whistle works better, because it sounds the same every time, whether you're feeling calm or furious. A plain plastic whistle on a lanyard is plenty. Get a clear signal in place before you need it, like three short blasts.

You'll also need:

• A long line, 20 to 30 feet, in lightweight nylon or biothane. Skip the retractable leash. It teaches him to lean into pressure and it can snap or burn your hand.
• A flat collar or a well-fitted harness that he can't slip.
• Treats better than kibble. Pea-sized bits of chicken, cheese or hot dog. Soft, smelly, fast to swallow.

Keep the treats in a pouch on your belt. If they're in the truck, they don't exist.

The ladder

You're building this one rung at a time. Move up only when he's right nine times out of ten.

1. Inside, six feet apart. Say the word once. When he arrives, treat, touch his collar, treat again. Touching the collar matters, because later you'll need to grab it without him dancing away.
2. Hallway, then backyard. Same drill, a little farther, a few mild distractions. A dropped toy. A family member walking through.
3. Long line, outdoors. Let him sniff and wander to the end of the line. Say the word once. If he comes, pay him big. A handful of treats, a game of tug, whatever he loves most.
4. Drag the line. Once he's reliable on step three, let him trail the line so you can step on it if he decides to test you.

Say the word one time. Not three. Every repeat teaches him the first one was optional. If he doesn't respond, don't chant. Reel him in quietly, no scolding, and drop back a rung where he can succeed. Then try again with something easier.

And never, ever punish a dog for arriving. He could have taken ten minutes and a roll in something awful. If he finally shows up, he showed up. Pay him.

Run the other way

A dog that's chasing you will beat a dog that's being called by a man standing still. When he's on the long line, say the word, turn, and jog away. Most dogs can't resist. Make him catch you, then pay him when he does.

Another one worth practicing: call him away from something mildly interesting, like a stick, a tennis ball, a patch of grass he's been sniffing. Pay him with a better version of what he left. That's how a dog learns that you're the best offer on the field.

If you're starting from scratch with a puppy, the first seven days are the place to begin. And fifteen minutes a day is enough to build the basics that all of this rests on.

The field is a different animal

A bird dog working a cornfield is a dog with a job. Scent is pulling him one way and you're pulling the other. The same rules apply, but the margin for error is thinner.

Train the whistle at home until it's automatic. Then add gunfire at a distance, then birds, then wind and cover. You don't ask for a recall at full drive on scent until he's been right a hundred times when it was easy.

Some serious gun dog trainers use an electronic collar as part of the final proofing. Used correctly, at a low level and only after the dog understands the command, it can help a dog stay safe near roads and livestock. Used badly, it can wreck a dog. If you're going that way, hire a qualified trainer to teach you first. Don't learn it on your own dog.

Same goes for the road. Know the leash laws where you live, and honor them. A dog that's reliable in a pasture might still need a leash at the trailhead. Respecting the rules of a place is part of being a good neighbor.

When it falls apart

It will, at some point. The usual culprit is adolescence, from roughly six months to a couple of years, when a well-trained dog suddenly acts like he's never heard you. It's normal. Go back a rung or two, shorten the line, raise the pay, and be patient.

One thing isn't normal. If a dog that came reliably last month suddenly doesn't, or seems not to hear you, or flinches when you touch his ears or back, call your veterinarian. Hearing loss and pain both look like disobedience. Rule those out first.

If you're being honest, a finished recall doesn't exist. It's a habit you keep paying into for the dog's whole life. A seven-year-old Lab who still gets a treat every few calls will come faster than a two-year-old who's only heard the word at the end of a walk.

Pay him every time he picks you over the rabbit. One day he'll pick you over the road.