Dog Reactivity: Learning from a Challenging Training Day

Last week, I went on holiday with my rescue dog, Anayah, to visit my partner in Swaledale. It was a lovely week, filled with mostly successful experiences in dog training. Anayah was incredibly well-behaved; she explored new places and, despite her anxiety, handled everything like a pro. I'm so proud of how far we've come together, especially considering her remarkable improvement in self-regulation. We even had the opportunity to visit my partner's grandmother, who lives in a care complex, and Anayah did wonderfully there as well!

However, there was one day when things didn’t go as smoothly, and I wanted to share that experience with you. It’s essential to remember that everyone has bad days, including challenging training sessions. We all make poor judgment calls, mistakes, and have moments when we feel overwhelmed or quick to anger. Reflecting on that particular day, I can see where I went wrong and what led to the situation escalating. Thankfully, Anayah didn’t seem too bothered by it afterwards, while I was left feeling stressed, overwhelmed, and annoyed at myself for putting us both in that position.

This post isn’t about sharing new training techniques or providing advice; rather, it’s an anecdotal reflection. I want you to know that you are not alone on those bad days—we all experience them. I also want to share the mistakes I made so that we can all learn from them and reduce the likelihood of them happening again.

Anayah did so well in the care home!

To set the scene, Anayah is a German Shepherd cross Siberian Husky. She has dog reactivity issues, which we have worked on consistently from day one. There has been much improvement, and she now has some dog friends she can spend time with happily. We can only assume that she never had any socialisation or training as a puppy, and she was born not long before the COVID-19 lockdowns. She also tore both ACLs (a horrible, long journey which you can read about here!) almost two years ago, and spent the best part of 6 months on restricted or no walks, which undid so much of the training we had done before.

To read more about her journey with me, read the blog post here!

Dog reactivity - a bad experience

On Tuesday, I decided to take Anayah out for a mini-adventure since Luke (my partner) was working. The original plan was to travel to a nature reserve about a 45-minute drive away, but I woke up feeling tired and a little grumpy after a busy day on Monday. So, instead, I took Anayah to a local-ish waterfall we hadn't visited yet. The drive to the location was stunning, and I spotted much wildlife, which cheered me up slightly.

By the time we got to the visitor centre of Aysgarth Falls, the car park was already pretty busy with tourists and dog walkers. At that point, I felt my anxiety rise, knowing it was going to be tricky to navigate the area with so many dogs. Anayah is dog-reactive, not aggressively, but from fear and lack of knowledge on how to behave around them. At that point, I should have turned around and found somewhere quieter to go for an explore. That was my first mistake.

But I put a lot of trust in Anayah, and I knew she had improved significantly. This would be a great test of her training, I thought. We would only do as much as she was comfortable with. So I paid for parking, checked the map, and got Anayah out of the car. We took a few minutes just walking around the car park area to start, working on heel walking and letting Anayah sniff and get used to the sounds, smells, and dogs milling about. She was over-excited but seemed to settle after sniffing and exploring.

We then attempted to walk to the lower falls. I saw the narrow path down to the falls, and my anxiety increased. Anayah would have no doubt picked up on that, even if I did try to hide it from her as much as I could. Dogs are crazily smart, and they can pick up on our emotions.

The path was only wide enough for people to pass each other very closely, which meant that if we met another dog coming up the other way, we would be in a tricky situation. But I could see fairly far down the path and stupidly took the gamble. This was my second mistake.

Aysgarth Falls

We started walking down the path, Anayah walking beautifully in heel despite the odd lunge at a new smell. Considering it was a new, busy place and she was excited, she was walking wonderfully well. Then I spotted someone walking towards us with a dog, and someone behind her, too. I made to turn around back to the car park, but there was another dog with their owner behind us. We were trapped on a very narrow path with three dogs approaching quickly. I panicked. That was my third mistake.

I led Anayah off the path and onto the bank to create as much distance between us and the other dogs, and threw some treats on the ground to distract her. It didn't work. The first dog passed without much issue, but the second dog was on a long lead and ventured into Anayah's space despite me asking the owner to pull his dog in. Anayah reacted, lunging and barking, and I knew that there was no calming her down right now, so I grabbed her harness and held her. This made her reactivity worse, as I had expected, but I was out of options.

Then a woman with a youngish puppy refused to walk past us because she was terrified of Anayah. I assured her that I had hold of her, apologised for the reactivity, and encouraged her to walk past, explaining that the longer she stayed there, the more Anayah would get wound up. The entire time, Anayah was barking.

The lady colorfully swore at me, telling me that I shouldn't have a dangerous dog out in public, and ran past, scooping her puppy up in her arms as she went. I called to her that some dogs have anxiety issues, but she ignored me, swearing at me the entire time.

Anayah was exhausted when we got back to the car.

Once the path was clear and Anayah had semi-calmed down, I led her back to the car park, where we both took a few moments to settle. I was fuming at everything and everyone, but I was mainly disappointed in myself. Walking back to the car was the most self-conscious I had felt in a very long time. I'm pretty sure everyone was watching and judging me, and I could see people glaring at Anayah, giving her a wide berth.

In a matter of five minutes, I had done so much damage. I had tarnished the reputation of German Shepherds even more, I had put Anayah in a situation that could have ended up with her injured (she wouldn't hurt another dog; she's more likely to bolt than be aggressive), I had taken our training back 10 paces, and Anayah had been lunging which had caused her to strain her back legs (she is still recovering from the ACL surgeries).

I put Anayah in the car, we both had some water, and I sat for a few minutes, crying. I was so angry, I was shaking from adrenaline, and Anayah slumped in her crate, defeated and exhausted.

I was angry at the woman for swearing so rudely at me, but I also understand her fear because being on the receiving end of a reactive German Shepard, I can imagine, is terrifying.

I had taken my camera with me with the intention of doing some photography, and the weather was fairly cool, so I left Anayah in the car for a bit and walked down to the waterfalls. (Don't worry, there were plenty of measures in place to keep the car cool, including portable fans, I was parked in the shade, she had water, and a cool mat!) The path that we had originally tried walking down was fairly long, but the falls were beautiful, and there was plenty of space to avoid other dogs. There was even a bit of the river dogs could get to if they wanted to paddle or swim, and the whole time I was down there trying to take some photos of the wildlife, all I could think about was how much Anayah would have loved it, and how awful I was for being there without her. I felt guilty, deflated. But there was just no way I would have been able to get her down that narrow path unless I hired a traffic warden for both ends to ensure human and dog traffic halted!

A Mistle Thrush, photographed by the waterfalls by me!

I managed to get a few photos, but I was only down by the falls for half an hour before returning to Anayah. I got her out again, now feeling calmer, and we did some training around the car park and footpaths surrounding it. We did heel work, focus work, and Anayah had great fun sniffing all the bins, lampposts, and fence posts. She didn't react to a single dog, as if the earlier event had already been forgotten by her. Eventually, we left and headed back to Luke's, both of us feeling tired.

Key Takeaways from This Experience:

• Don't ignore your gut feeling. If it's telling you not to do something, don't do it.

• Take your own feelings and energy levels into account. This could have gone completely differently if I hadn't already been exhausted.

• Sometimes, things don't go to plan, and that's okay.

• Even if it doesn't seem like much to us, a small training session in a new car park can be great stimulation for dogs.

This experience was a powerful reminder that even with the best intentions and significant progress, bad days happen. They are an inevitable part of the journey with our dogs, especially those with past traumas or specific needs. What matters most is how we respond to these setbacks. For me, this day was a stark lesson in trusting my instincts, acknowledging my own limitations, and understanding that pushing through an unsuitable situation only exacerbates the problem. While it was a difficult moment, it ultimately reinforced the importance of patience, self-compassion, and the understanding that every interaction, even a simple sniff in a car park, contributes to our dogs' well-being and confidence. Anayah's ability to bounce back quickly was a testament to our bond and the training we've consistently put in, reminding me that one rough patch doesn't erase all the good work. We live and learn, and most importantly, we keep moving forward, always striving to be the best guides for our beloved companions.

Don't let the bad days win; let them teach you instead.