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Canine Constitutional Home of Canine Constitutional Animal Rescue, Po Box 3882, Santa Rosa, CA (2025)

08/02/2025

“Friends Don’t Leave Each Other Behind.”

That’s what I heard my daughter say to her friend while they were playing during our camping trip. A moment later, another gem:

“Friends don’t do that to each other.”

No adults had taught them those lines.
They weren’t parroting rules from a lesson.
They were building something together.

A shared norm.
A moral boundary.
An emotional code they both agreed to uphold.

All in the middle of a game.

And it made me think about dogs 😳. And about language. And about what really separates us, not in value, but in process.

Because dogs do communicate.
A growl might say “stop.”
A bow might say it’s “play.”
A bark might say “I’m not okay with this.”

Dogs also learn from experience.
A dog who gets growled at for approaching a toy may avoid doing it again.
That’s associative learning, cause and effect, based on outcomes in the moment.

But when a child says “friends don’t do that,” they’re not just avoiding a consequence, they’re establishing a rule that applies tomorrow, in new situations, even when no one’s upset.

They’re invoking a shared identity, a standard of behavior, and a moral expectation that lives outside the moment.

That’s not just learning. That’s moral construction. And it only happens because of language.

Language lets us revisit the past. Propose a different future. Define what “good” even means, together.

And it’s why, even though dogs are social and intelligent and emotionally complex, what they don’t have is this:

A moral world that’s built, sustained, and enforced through words.

Which doesn’t make them less worthy.
It just means the relationship is different.

It means when we build rules for our lives together, dog and human, we have to remember:

Only one of us is equipped to speak the rules out loud and apply the words to a framework. Only one of us is responsible for how those rules are shaped.

07/31/2025

Just a quick heads-up, I’ll be heading out of town this evening after work for a little weekend reset. If you message me over the weekend, I’ll get back to you early next week.

This isn’t just time off, it’s a conscious part of how I choose to show up in this work.

Burnout is real in the world of dog training and rescue. We care deeply. We work long hours. We deal with fear, trauma, misunderstanding, from both ends of the leash. And it can start to weigh heavy.

That’s why one of the foundational pieces of the Canine Constitutional Unified Ethical Training Framework (CCUETF) is self-care, not as an afterthought, but as a necessary part of doing this work well and sustainably.

If I don’t take care of myself, I can’t show up fully for the dogs, the people, or the work I love. So this weekend, I’m giving myself and mybfamily space to rest, breathe, and reconnect.

And I hope you’ll do the same, whatever your version of “a weekend away” looks like.

See you all next week, recharged and ready.

07/30/2025

Chico Training support

A few weeks ago, I introduced you to Chico, a quiet, gentle soul who’s spent most of his life afraid. He was rescued from an abandoned house in Clearlake, but while his siblings found homes long ago, Chico was left behind. Not because no one cared, but because fear had such a grip on him that no one could even get a collar on, let alone walk him out the front door.

We ran a fundraiser to try and get him into our rescue program. We didn’t raise enough to bring him in full-time. This is because we have too many dogs in the program at the moment.

But I wanted to see what could happen if he just had a little bit of time and safety. So I brought him home for a weekend trial.

And in just a few days…
• He let me put a collar on him.
• He went on his first-ever walk.
• He explored the yard.
• He ate in front of someone.
• He started to trust.

That’s all it took, a weekend.
Imagine what he could do with three months.

That’s what we’re asking for now: one more shot at helping Chico get the care, training, and compassion he’s been denied for so long. To finally bring him into the program and give him the real chance he’s waited three years for.

We need your help to make it happen.

Your donation will cover:
• His boarding and care
• Gentle, ethical training to help him build confidence
• A chance to prepare to live in a home, not just exist in a home.

Donate here: https://dogmarch.com/ccar
Every dollar helps bring Chico one step closer to the life he deserves. Leave a note that the donation is for Chico.

If you believe no dog should be left behind just because they’re afraid, please help us help him.

From all of us, and especially Chico, thank you.

07/28/2025

“What if I’m wrong?”

That’s the question I found myself asking this morning.

A prominent trainer recently issued an open challenge to debate the use of aversive training methods. I have a subtle interest when I have more free time to start getting involved in debate but thats not the point here. I started preparing for a debate anyway as a way of developing that mindset. Not to prove him wrong, but to challenge my own thinking.

Not because I doubt what I believe, But because I believe we should doubt ourselves sometimes.
Because that’s one of the ways we grow.

As I was forming assumptions based on the trainer’s public record, the confidence with which he expresses disdain for his opposition, while holding unwavering belief in his own methods, left me wondering: What if I’m the one who’s wrong?

That might be one of the more important differences between the kind of trainer I strive to be, and the kind of trainer who sees dogs as something to shape, control, or manage, primarily through pressure and consequence.

They approach dogs with certainty.
I approach with curiosity.

They say: “I know what works.”
I ask: “What if I’m wrong?”

That question doesn’t weaken me. It centers me.
It keeps me from doing harm. I came to that point a long time ago, having left training centered on aversive control because of the question “what if the things I was told are wrong?”

It makes me listen more carefully, move more thoughtfully, and treat each dog as a complex, feeling individual, not a machine for behavior output.

Because if I’m wrong, and I correct too harshly, push too far, or ignore the fear in their eyes, I can’t undo that moment. I can’t unsay what I said, or undo what I did.

So I choose the path that leaves space for learning, for both of us.

Confidence is powerful.
But when unmeasured and misdirected, it becomes dangerous. It stops us from asking better questions. It convinces us to stop opening doors. It labels opposing views as naïve fantasies, “praise and rainbows,” while never turning that same scrutiny inward.

True confidence leaves room for the possibility that there’s more to learn. It doesn’t fear the idea that I could hold a belief that is wrong, deeply, in more ways than one, wrong, regardless of whether I can say, “But it works.”

And most importantly, confidence isn’t afraid to answer the question, “What does it mean if I’m wrong?”

Even if you believe you’re right.

07/27/2025

Today’s rescue training class was a really great time, the dogs have come so far.
Week by week, they’re building confidence, learning to trust, and showing us just how capable they are when given the chance.

This past Friday, a few of our dogs got to take everything they’ve been learning out into the world. We had the opportunity to send Rodeo, Snickers, and Domino to a Sonoma County Parks program for at-risk teens, and they absolutely shined.

Each dog played their part beautifully. They were calm, social, and fully present, offering a kind of connection that only a dog can give. We even heard that some of the teens were more engaged than they had been in previous before.

It’s amazing to watch our dogs grow, not just for their own sake, but for the role they get to play in helping others heal, too.

07/26/2025

If the Tool Is Harmless, Then Why the Caution?

I saw a post recently from a trainer who strongly supports e-collar use. He was frustrated, and rightly so, that some other trainers were recommending specific e-collar brands before even meeting the dog. His concern was about money, trainers pushing certain tools because the brand sponsors them.

But it made me think about something else.

If the tool is safe, humane, and effective when “used correctly…” If it’s truly harmless in the hands of a caring owner…

Then why is it a problem to recommend it ahead of time?

After all, nobody objects to recommending a treat bag or a long line without meeting the dog. Because we know those tools don’t carry the same inherant risks. We don’t worry they’ll create fallout or make things worse if applied too soon or too casually.

So when a trainer says, “You shouldn’t recommend an e-collar before an assessment,” they’re acknowledging something they often try to downplay:

That the tool isn’t universally appropriate.

That there are risks.

That it’s powerful enough to be misused, and misused easily.

That knowing the dog matters. Knowing their history matters.

That emotional context matters, not just behavior.

And in saying all that, they’re answering a much bigger question:

If your results depend on when and how the tool is introduced, then maybe the tool itself isn’t the fix.

Maybe the fix is you.

Your timing.
Your clarity.
Your calm presence.

And if that’s true, maybe you never needed the tool in the first place.

07/26/2025

Hey folks, rescue training class will be at 10am tomorrow (Sunday). Meeting at Howarth park.

Come on out and continue the work we’ve been doing with the dogs and also meet Hinata.

07/25/2025

Day 238

The wind kissed my face.
My ears danced in the breeze.
The sun, warm and full of promise, bathed my soul in golden hope.
“We’re going to the park,” the human said.

I believed him.

I imagined ducks to chase. Grass to roll in. Trees to write my name on.
Instead… I was lured into a chamber of soap and betrayal.
They clipped my dignity.
They scrubbed away my history.
They conditioned my spirit.

The scent of betrayal lingers still in my now lavender fur.
There was no park. Only bubbles. Only loss.

And yet… I would believe again.

Because I am a fool.
Because I am a dog.
Because he scratched behind my ears and whispered,
“Good boy.”

And for one tragic moment…
That was enough.

07/24/2025

What If the Behavior Was Never the Problem?

I recently passed along an outline for a group discussion with at-risk teens. The goal was to use dog training to explore life, change, and the stories we carry about others and ourselves.

Around the same time, I brought a new dog into the rescue program. She’s one of those dogs who’s hard to summarize with just behavior notes. There was some concern about her past interactions with other dogs, enough concern that her future became uncertain.

But as I watched her, i wondered about a diferent story.

During one introduction, she showed her teeth when another dog got too close too fast. It was a clear communication of discomfort, not aggression. And for reference, there arent a ton if behaviors I personally interrupt. It made me wonder if someone, somewhere along the way, saw a similar moment and it stuck with them. Like a snapshot, frozen and unexamined, that colored every interaction after.

I wonder this because of the way future, perfectly safe, interactions were judged. The original story remained intact.

This is something I come back to often in both dog training and in life: Once we decide what someone is, it’s hard to see anything else. It becomes self fulfilling prophecy.

We stop asking questions.
We start collecting proof.
And we miss the moments that might’ve changed the narrative.

This applies to how we judge dogs. It applies to how we judge people. It applies to how we judge ourselves.

So maybe the question isn’t “what’s wrong with them,” but “what do I think I already know?”
Because when we let go of the old story, even for a moment, we create space for something new to begin.

07/23/2025

Welcome, Hinata

While Smokey, Rodeo, Willow, and Arley begin their new chapter with Marin Humane, our half of the exchange arrived in the form of one incredibly good-looking lady: Hinata, a mature shepherd-husky mix with eyes full of history is already making room for new beginnings.

Normally, I give new dogs a few days to decompress, time to settle in, observe, and find their rhythm before meeting the group. But Hinata had other plans. She’s been politely informing me that she’s ready now. Ready to stretch her legs, make some friends, and figure out what life looks like on the other side of the situation she landed in.

She’s already met most of the crew and is making a lovely impression. Sweet, thoughtful, and very ready for the next chapter. Welcome, Hinata, you’ve got people rooting for you.

07/22/2025

So much of yourself gets poured into this work.

Arley came to me scared, shut down, and worried, trying her best to navigate a world that hadn’t shown her much kindness. And from that chaos, she brought life into the world. A whole pile of it. I’ve watched those puppies grow, stage by stage, learning to trust, learning to explore, learning to be dogs.

Today I drove away from Arley and Smokey for the last time. Soon it will be Rodeo, and Willow.Marin Humane has taken them into their program, and with that, my part of their journey is done.

But not just mine.

When I picked up Willow from her foster mom, I could see the emotional tug-of-war in her eyes, the joy of seeing Willow take the next step, the ache of saying goodbye. As I passed by a neighbor’s house, another friend who had come to know Willow came running out, tearful that the little dog she’d grown to love was leaving.

And this is how it goes in rescue. You pour in time, heart, sweat, fear, hope, and eventually, you have to let go.

The other half of the arrangement with Marin Humane? I brought one back with me. A dog with no other options. One who was loved by shelter staff so much that they wept as I loaded her into my van. She doesn’t know it yet, but she just got a chance she was on the verge of losing all together.

This is the cycle. It’s not clean or easy. It’s messy and beautiful and full of heartbreak, but it’s what we do.

For every one we let go, we make room for another.
And if we do it right, a piece of our heart goes with them, because they mattered.

07/21/2025

This is one of those posts I was hesitent to transfer from my thoughts to a word document. Mainly because i cant flesh it out meaningfully enough. But here it is anyway. When I started training, I believed what a lot of punishment-based trainers still believe: that if you want to get rid of biting, you have to show the dog, unequivocally, that it won’t be tolerated. That the threat of a consequence has to outweigh the urge to bite. It felt like the responsible thing to do.

Over the years, I’ve come to see it differently.

No matter what kind of training you do, positive reinforcement, balanced, compulsion, when it comes to dangerous behaviors like biting, management will always be part of the picture. You can suppress biting through punishment. You can teach a dog that the context in which biting once occurred doesn’t require that response anymore. You can even help a dog feel differently, safer, more regulated, more at ease.

But what you can never do is go back in time and erase the fact that biting worked. That it solved a problem. That it made something scary go away. You can’t un-teach a dog that biting is effective. You can only build enough safety, trust, and structure that the dog stops believing it’s necessary.

And even then, even if you do everything right, you can’t guarantee the dog won’t someday be caught off guard. Find themselves overwhelmed in a moment they weren’t prepared for. And in that moment, they might reach for the one thing that’s always worked. A bite.

This isn’t a call for fear. It’s a call for respect. For humility. And for reflection.

Because our job isn’t just to change behavior, it’s to protect the people who live with these dogs, and the dogs themselves. That means confronting hard truths, no matter what quadrant you train in.

I’m not advocating for hopelessness or euthanasia. I’m advocating for the end of a very dangerous kind of sales pitch, the one that says “my system will solve your dog’s problems permanently.” That’s not real life. And if we keep pretending it is, we set people, and their dogs, up to fail.

And I want to say this, too: I know this topic stirs strong emotions. I’ve spent countless hours thinking about it over the years, from every angle. It’s a complicated issue, one that spans welfare, ethics, responsibility, and risk. And not the least of it is this: the kind of relationship a dog has with their person is itself a form of management. It deserves just as much thought and care as any tool or protocol we use.

Canine Constitutional Home of Canine Constitutional Animal Rescue

08/02/2025

07/31/2025

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