05/19/2026
I follow a few horsemen and am always amused by the similar concerns between their trade (horses) and mine (dogs).
The topic was about trainability of certain animals, and if trainability determines whether that animal is âsafeâ or âsuitableâ.
I found it interesting, since this topic comes in many forms across the dog trainer community. I wrestle with it a lot, as should anyone with a conscience, and although I am asked fairly frequently whether or not a certain dog is âtrainableâ, my refrain is always the same; âI have yet to meet a dog unimproved by trainingâ, which people erroneously assume that I mean all dogs can be rendered either âsafeâ, or âsuitableâ.
I can legitimately count on the digits I was born with, the number of animals in my career that I thought posed serious concerns for their handlers. This is not the number of dogs that were truly dangerous, which is an even smaller number, but dogs that were outside the scope of their owners to handle safely by virtue of mass, temperament, or relationship challenges that could not be overcome.
The 1% of dogs that are legitimately dangerous (percentage by overall population) are pretty easy to spot and have no place in the human world. Period.
Personally, I think the distinction between the two cultures deals with the intimacy with which we permit these animals to live with us. Our dogs are everywhere with us. Our horses are in the pasture, or in the barn, not in the living room or on the bed.
Many of the behaviors owners inadvertently encourage end up giving birth to the behaviors they wish to eliminate or at least control better. Many of those behaviors, when left untended, can be dangerous.
The question is always âIs the dog trainable?â
My answer is usually âYes, but are YOU?â
The dilemma arises when we make that cognitive decision to either continue working with that animal or terminating the relationship with the owner. I have exhausted myself trying to help owners who were less than committed to the problem, only to have the work fail because the owner wasnât as decisive, or as vigilant as they should have been, and I always end up blaming myself.
Backing out of a doomed relationship requires a few things; primarily the moral compass to determine what is, in fact, in the best interest of animal and owner, the experience to mindfully make that judgement fairly and honestly, and the understanding that itâs not a matter of quitting when the going gets tough, but genuinely having concerns about the rate of success in the future for that animal in that home, with that owner.
It doesnât make that dog necessarily âuntrainableâ as much as it may make that dog âunsuitableâ.
Dogs are single trial learners. You do not eliminate a practiced behavior entirely. Through training and management in the case of dangerous dogs, you may be able to help the dog find better coping skills than defensive (or offensive) aggression, but it is never really eradicated from memory. Once a successful strategy is practiced even once, it is indelibly logged in the animalâs memory as a strategy that can be drawn upon if circumstances call for it.
Outwardly, the dog may appear perfectly fine, until that one moment when he is decidedly not fine. Morally, I have to weigh if the risk of a relapse is worth it. Consciously, I have to help the owner understand those risks and let them decide whether they want to continue pursuing training or make the command decision to let the dog go to a more suitable home or face the real likelihood of euthanasia. Guiding the ownerâs choice with appropriate support isnât easy, when ultimately, the outcomes for the dog are so profound.
As I stated previously, I have yet to meet a dog unimproved by training. That doesnât mean the dog has been rendered either safe or suitable. Thankfully those numbers are low compared to the overall population, and nobody should be denying their existence. Improvement and âsafeâ are not exclusive, nor should perceived progress be relied upon to determine dependability with certain animals. The only thing left is vigilance, and quite honestly, nobody has the emotional stamina for that, long-term.
In conversations with owners of potentially dangerous dogs, part of the discovery absolutely includes questions about desired outcomes and risk mitigation.
Sometimes success looks like getting another dog. A more suitable one.
I will terminate a training agreement or simply decline it from the very beginning if I donât think it would be worthwhile. Itâs a pretty straightforward process to determine if an owner has the sand to go through the training with the dog, and itâs a safe bet that success is rendered only after a lot of trials and errors.
It is always preferable to work with the owners privately so they can identify and change their behavior which may be triggering the dogâs behavior. Achieving that level of muscle memory is simply not possible in a boarding and training environment. After training for half a freaking century, I say that with absolute confidence. And even then, there is absolutely no assurance that the owner wonât default to prior behavior, and somebody ends up getting hurt anyway.
Many owners of dogs like *this* will still believe that itâs a matter of trainer, training, or timing, and persistently throw money at a problem that is simply not going to go away. There are dogs who have blossomed after ownership found a trainer with more than an ecollar and a dog bed as their sole training methodology, and who understood how dogs apply their past experiences to future outcomes, but there still remains a number with unresolved issues just waiting for the right opportunity.
Yes Virginia, I do believe that dogs are capable of malice.
There are dogs who look like they are improving, but there is something about them that makes your skin tingle, because you can see their active predatory response in virtually any situation, looking for an opportunity to take advantage of a momentary lapse in vigilance. Itâs an evolutionary strategy that made predator species successful hunters. It was never âbred out of themâ, and in some instances, was compounded by selective breeding in many dogs; guardian breeds, terriers and many herding breeds.
People donât see that. They just see Fluffy Bedfellow and never his primal ancestors who would have run that same owner down and feasted to the point of gluttony.
And then there is the rare individual that needs a permanent place in the heavens. Heâs still learning, but heâs observing his prey for weakness. He learns how to push, he learns how to intimidate, and how to manipulate.
Professional trainers may be able to control the outcomes of that animalâs behavior, anticipate actions and counter them, but none of that even remotely suggests that animal is âfixedâ. I am certainly not inviting that kind of chaos into my home. When I come in after a long day of training, I prefer uncomplicated dogs. I spent the better part of 20 years âmanagingâ personalities. I am old now and choose differently. Most companion animal homes are simply not prepared for that type of vigilance.
My primary goal when training is preparing that dog for a lifetime with humans, including their clumsy mistakes, and their sudden frustrations. If I canât achieve that, Iâm not being honest with the owner, and potentially subjecting the public to risks. There are dogs where âgood enoughâ will never be an option.
The incestuous ârescueâ cult of virtue signaling has more to do with inappropriate placements than any other source of pet dogs currently. The Underground Rescue Railroad that shuttles dangerous dogs across time zones to maintain their âno-killâ bu****it status has seen an increase of dog attacks on their own staff, volunteers, or adopters, and to the communities these animals are being released to.
Owners are not experts. They are in love with their pet, and are blinded by that love, or the image conjured in their heads about the ideal relationship. The owner sees the mechanics, and the trainer sees the rusty clockworks underneath, waiting for a cog to slip or a spring to fail. The owner sees what he considers to be improvement, and the trainer sees a predictable outcome.
The difference is in the observation of any behavior and being able to interpret what that behavior means. The dog doesnât have to lash out for me to know what heâs thinking. If knowing is half the battle, executing is the other half; timely adjustments to keep the dog focused and on task, without creating an opportunity for potential risk. Just because a trainer can interpret and redirect that course, doesnât make the owner as capable. Only time and practice and vigilance will do that. Sooner or later, that animal is going to take his shot. Opportunity is inviting.
I never call a dog âfixedâ anymore than I call spaying or neutering a dog âfixingâ. You canât fix what isnât broke, in the case of de-sexing a dog. They were born whole. We are altering them, not fixing them.
Behaviorally speaking, we are not fixing that, either. Remediating, in this case, does not mean fix. We are accommodating through altering the environment, compensating by developing alternative strategies in order to bypass a deficit, introducing adaptive coping strategies to manage the challenges caused by the deficit, reframing how a behavior is redirected turning a problem into a manageable trait, and mitigating risk by reducing the severity, frequency or impact of a behavior.
Fixing isnât really probable. Management is permanent, with the goal of improvement, but often even that is not possible in certain circumstances.
The distinction between a trained dog and a managed dog are self-evident. Trained dogs make decisions independent of a human handler, and managed dogs are never given the opportunity. Trained dogs possess self-control. Managed dogs need to be controlled.
There is no â[behavior] came out of nowhereâ in the animal kingdom, outside of neural damage caused by injury or disease. Thereâs always a reason. Letâs call it a trigger. We may not identify what that âreasonâ is, but you can bank on the animal thinking it had a reason. I cannot count the times when a very slight, subtle moment made the difference between an attempt and a failure of a dog to consider an âact of braveryâ, on myself, an owner, or an observer.
Subtle things. An eyeroll, a fraction of a second moment of rigid posture, lowering of the head, leveling of the spine, tail, whatever. There is always a tell.
One of the primary reasons I no longer offer boarding and training options for adult dogs is because understanding the inter-relationship is paramount in planning for a successful outcome for any behavior. Itâs not a matter of whether âanother trainerâ is better suited. Itâs a matter of what drove the behavior to begin with. Management couched as training isnât training. Itâs a band-aid. The problem remains, what is the long-term prognosis?
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Passing on a dog may make you feel guilty for a minute, but inevitably news comes down the pipeline, and you will be thankful you dodged that bullet. It does become the ownerâs responsibility to make the decisions, and as long as you were honest, you have nothing to fear and nothing to hide. Naysayers exist in every industry. Just remember the âman in the arenaâ. That would be you.
There is no shame in declining a client or terminating an agreement to train if you think you are unable to provide the owner with those two maxims of âsafeâ and âsuitableâ. There is no crime in saying âI do not think I can make this dog safe or suitable for this household.â
It doesnât mean the dog canât be trained. It doesnât mean that the dog wonât be suitable for another home. It just means that you are not willing to engage in some performative artistry that competes with your ethics and what you truly believe; that the dog is a headline, waiting to happen.
I do not believe that every dog should be saved. Skill, knowledge, patience and consistency all matter, but none of them can assure success outside certain parameters and if ownership is incapable of maintain those parameters, training can and does fail. Dangerous dogs need to be honestly evaluated not only for their inherent risk, but their inherent risk in any environment that is not heavily managed by professionals.
Itâs simply unrealistic.
Everybody loves the stories they see online about the tragic beginning and the triumphant end. I like them, everybody does. My job, however, is to denude people of their fantasies, when it comes to animals that present serious risks to them, their families, and their communities. I have seen them. Not many, but enough to know they exist, and in increasing numbers.
I donât care about what other people think. My conscience is clear. I would rather be known as the failure who wasnât able to get the job done, than be the name in the news report of the trainer that âtrainedâ a dog who escaped and savaged somebody. I donât lie. I donât deceive. If I donât think I am the person for the job, itâs no skin off my beak to admit it.
Even though every dog may be improved by training, is the dog trustworthy? Is the dog safe? If not, then the training was simply not enough. Itâs a hard pill to swallow, but itâs still a fact, whether folks want to admit it or not.
Dogs like that do exist. They become more dangerous, not less. He is no longer acting without thinking, he begins to calculate. He learns how to manipulate the environment, including the people in it.
And that is a risk I am not willing to accommodate.