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Street Wise Canine, Ottawa, ON (2026)

08/26/2026

YOU’RE NOT EDUCATING THEM. YOU’RE ENTERTAINING YOUR SIDE.

We have trainers who spend all day talking about behaviour change. Reinforce what you want. Don’t create unnecessary conflict. Don’t rely on punishment. Build trust. Create safety. Make learning easier. Meet the learner where they are.

Great.

So why does all of that apparently disappear the second the learner is another trainer?

Because suddenly the strategy becomes mocking them, shaming them, calling them stupid, abusive, outdated or anti-science, and then acting confused when they don’t immediately become curious about your position.

How exactly is that supposed to work?

If your actual goal is to change minds, then your communication should make somebody more willing to listen. If your actual goal is education, then explain your position. Ask questions. Have uncomfortable conversations. Show your reasoning. Challenge ideas without turning the person into a villain. Give someone room to disagree with you without first requiring them to admit they’re a terrible human being.

That is what education looks like.

But if your post is basically, “I spent half my life feeling dumb. Then I discovered balanced trainers and realized there are people much dumber than me,” who exactly are you educating?

Certainly not the trainer you’re insulting.

You’re performing for the people who already agree with you. And if that’s the goal, fine. Just call it what it is.

It’s not outreach. It’s not education. It’s not changing the industry. It’s in-group entertainment.

And this is where the irony gets pretty hard to ignore.

Some of the same people insisting that punishment is an ineffective or unethical way to change dog behaviour seem incredibly comfortable using ridicule, social pressure, humiliation, exclusion and public shaming to try to change human behaviour.

Apparently punishment is useless right up until the subject is a trainer you don’t like.

Interesting.

And no, humans and dogs are not the same. That isn’t the point.

The point is that if your entire professional identity is built around understanding how behaviour changes, maybe you should be a little better at recognizing when your own behaviour is making change less likely.

People who feel attacked defend themselves. People who feel humiliated stop listening. People who are told they’re stupid rarely think, “You know what? Excellent point. Please teach me more.”

So maybe ask yourself one uncomfortable question:

Do you actually want the other side to learn, or do you want your own side to applaud?

Because those require very different behaviour from you.

If you want applause, keep mocking people.

If you want change, you might actually have to talk to them.

And for a profession so obsessed with behaviour change, I really shouldn’t have to explain that.

08/23/2026

THE ANSWER IS STARING DOG PROFESSIONALS IN THE FACE.

Boomer’s family wants answers.

And I think the answer staring experienced dog professionals in the face is probably the hardest one to hear:

If the reported sequence is accurate, this was preventable.

And I don’t think that conversation should stop with the dog walker.

Because then I found the company advertising dog-walking positions as:

“Take walks, make friends, and make money.”

Looking for animal lovers.

No experience required.

On-the-job training.

And suddenly this becomes a much bigger conversation.

Because what exactly are we expecting to happen when we take someone who loves dogs, has good intentions, but has little or no experience reading group behaviour, and put them in charge of multiple dogs?

We are asking them to make decisions they may not even know are decisions yet.

Is this barking harmless excitement or is the group getting too elevated?

Does this dog need space?

Is restraint increasing frustration?

Should these dogs be standing this close together?

Are the leashes becoming a problem?

Should another dog be added right now?

Should I completely change the plan?

An experienced dog handler has that voice going off in their head before the emergency happens.

Too much. Too close. Not like this. Change the picture.

You cannot expect somebody to have that judgement simply because they love animals.

And this is where I actually feel terrible for the walker too.

Because if you hire somebody telling them no experience is required, then place them into situations where experience can literally save a dog’s life, what exactly did we think “on-the-job training” was going to look like?

The dogs become part of the learning curve.

And that is unacceptable.

There is nothing wrong with being new.

Every single experienced dog professional started somewhere.

But there is a responsible way to build experience.

One dog at a time.

Then different dogs.

Then compatible pairs.

Then more complicated situations as your ability grows.

You do not learn how to manage multiple aroused dogs by finding out, in real time, what happens when the situation gets beyond your skill level.

That is why I don’t think this should become a witch hunt against one dog walker.

I think the industry failed her too.

We continue selling dog walking as a cute little side job for animal lovers while quietly expecting those same people to possess the observation skills, behavioural knowledge and judgement of experienced handlers.

Then something catastrophic happens and everyone asks:

How could this happen?

This is how.

When the level of responsibility is higher than the level of experience.

When loving dogs gets confused with knowing dogs.

When companies treat behavioural skill like something employees can just pick up along the way while already responsible for clients’ animals.

And unfortunately, Boomer paid the price.

That is the part that makes this so sickening.

Not because nobody could have known.

Because somebody with enough experience should have known before the first bite ever happened that the picture was becoming unsafe.

So yes, Boomer’s family deserves answers.

But I think the question needs to get bigger than:

“What did this dog walker do wrong?”

We should also be asking:

Why was someone without enough experience ever placed in a position where getting that judgement wrong could cost a dog his life?

That is an industry problem.

And Boomer wasn’t the first dog to die while in the care of a dog walker.

He won’t be the last.

Not unless we stop treating professional dog walking like a casual side hustle for all dog lovers and start treating experience and behavioural knowledge like the safety requirements they actually are.

08/21/2026

Why are we assuming the person holding the remote is the villain?

The conversation around remote collars often goes something like:

“What stops the owner from getting frustrated and turning it up?”

“What stops them from using it over and over?”

“What happens when they get angry?”

And every time I hear that, I find myself wondering… what kind of dog owners are you meeting?

Because there seems to be this assumption that the second an otherwise normal person gets a remote collar in their hand, something changes and suddenly they’re looking for an excuse to hurt their dog.

Why?

These people paid for training. They showed up. They’re spending their time learning. They’re asking questions because something isn’t working and they care enough about their dog to try to make it better.

These are usually the same people spending a small fortune on vet bills, food, beds, toys, daycare, grooming and everything else their dog apparently desperately needs.

They rearrange their lives around them. They worry about them. They love them.

They’re not sitting at home thinking, “Finally, I’ve found an acceptable way to hurt my dog.”

They’re regular people trying to train a dog.

And after years of teaching people to use remote collars, my experience has actually been almost the complete opposite of the stereotype.

Most owners don’t want to turn it up.

If anything, they’re usually cautious.

“Was that too much?”

“Did he feel that?”

“Do I need to change anything?”

That is much more familiar to me than someone eagerly spinning the dial because their dog pi**ed them off.

Does misuse happen? Of course it does.

People get frustrated. People make mistakes. People have bad timing and bad judgement.

That is exactly why education matters.

But there’s a huge difference between saying:

“This tool can be misused.”

and saying:

“Give an average dog owner this tool and eventually they’re going to misuse it because they don’t care about hurting their dog.”

Those are completely different statements.

And I think this is such a good example of how quickly assumptions start replacing the actual person standing in front of us.

We see:

REMOTE COLLAR USER

and apparently we already know the rest.

Lazy.

Looking for a shortcut.

Doesn’t care about welfare.

Probably cranks it up.

Corrects everything.

Only cares about obedience.

But what if none of that is true?

What if they’re just somebody who loves their dog and made a training choice you personally wouldn’t make?

Maybe we could start there.

I’ve met a lot of dog owners over the years. Are they perfect? Absolutely not. Neither am I.

But overwhelmingly, they are not looking for new and creative ways to hurt their dogs.

They’re looking for help.

And I think we’d probably be much better at helping them if we stopped inventing the person behind the remote before we’ve even met them.

08/20/2026

WHAT DO YOU THINK THE JOB OF A DOG TRAINER ACTUALLY IS?

Genuine question.

What do you think your job is?

Dog trainer, behaviour consultant, behaviourist, specialist, coach… whatever fancy title you want to use.

What are we actually being hired to do?

Because I’ve always thought my job was to help the person and the dog standing in front of me.

That’s it.

A client comes to me with a problem, a dog, a history, a lifestyle, a set of goals, and usually some equipment they already own.

My job is to know enough to help them.

Not to turn them into me.

If someone walks in using a Halti, do I really need to spend half the session convincing them they should use something else?

Why?

If they like it, they can use it safely, and it works for them, why would my personal preference suddenly become the most important thing in the room?

If they use a harness, great.

If they use a slip lead, okay.

If they use a prong collar, okay.

If they want to use a remote collar for recall, I know how to teach that too.

Really well, actually.

So why wouldn’t I help them?

And I think this is the part I’m genuinely curious about.

When did our job become convincing clients to adopt our moral position on equipment?

When did “I personally don’t use that” turn into “therefore you shouldn’t either”?

When did the trainer’s philosophy become more important than the client’s goals?

When did we stop asking, “How can I help this person?” and start asking, “How can I get this person to train the way I think they should?”

That feels like a pretty big shift.

The closest comparison I can think of is hiring a contractor to renovate your kitchen.

You already have a style you like. You’ve picked your cabinets. You know what kind of counters you want.

And instead of helping you build the kitchen you asked for, the contractor spends the first two hours explaining why they personally hate your choices and why you should build the kitchen they would want in their own house.

You’d probably be thinking:

I didn’t hire you to redesign my values. I hired you because you’re supposed to know how to do the job.

That’s how I see dog training.

Now, obviously there are limits.

If something is unsafe, I’m going to say so.

If I think the tool is inappropriate for that dog, I’m going to say so.

If I think the owner doesn’t understand how to use it, I’m going to educate them.

If I think there’s a better option, I’ll offer it.

That’s what professional judgement is for.

But there’s a difference between:

“I don’t think this is appropriate for this dog.”

and

“I don’t personally approve of this tool, so I need to convince you not to use it.”

Those are not the same thing.

So I’m curious, trainers:

If a client walks in using a tool you don’t personally use, what is your job?

Is it to teach them how to use it better?

Is it to assess whether it’s actually causing a problem?

Is it to explain the risks and alternatives, then let them make an informed decision?

Or is it to change their mind?

And if the answer is “change their mind,” why?

Because I don’t think clients are generally calling us for a moral education.

They’re calling because their dog won’t come back.

Their dog is pulling them down the street.

Their dog is barking at everything.

Their dog is fighting with the other dog in the house.

Their dog can’t settle.

Their dog is chasing wildlife.

They need help.

That’s why they picked up the phone.

And I really don’t want this industry to become a place where people have to pass some kind of philosophical purity test before they’re allowed to receive that help.

I want to be educated enough that I can work with more than one kind of client.

I want to understand reinforcement really well.

Punishment really well.

Negative reinforcement.

Classical conditioning.

Motivation.

Stress.

Arousal.

Body language.

Management.

Welfare.

Food.

Play.

Leash handling.

Long lines.

Harnesses.

Head halters.

Slip leads.

Prong collars.

Remote collars.

Not because I need to use all of them.

I don’t.

But because the person who walks through my door might.

And if I don’t understand what they’re using, how it works, what the risks are, what the mechanics are, and where it fits into learning theory, how exactly am I supposed to help them intelligently?

I don’t think expertise should make your toolbox smaller.

I think it should make your judgement better.

That’s the difference.

And I keep coming back to this:

Are we here to help people train their dogs, or are we here to recruit people into our training philosophy?

Because those are two very different jobs. I know which one I signed up for.

08/18/2026

IF ONE CORRECTION DESTROYS YOUR RELATIONSHIP… HOW SH*TTY WAS THE RELATIONSHIP?

Apparently, somewhere along the way, dog training decided that relationships are incredibly fragile.

One correction?

Trust broken.

One unpleasant consequence?

Relationship damaged.

One moment where the dog doesn’t get exactly what they want?

Bond ruined.

Really?

Because that’s a pretty bleak view of the relationship we supposedly have with our dogs.

A correction can affect a relationship. Of course it can. But the existence of a correction does not, by itself, tell you what that relationship looks like.

Because what kind of relationship are we talking about if one moment of disagreement makes the whole thing fall apart?

Imagine saying that about any healthy relationship. You love someone. You trust them. You enjoy being with them. You’ve had thousands of good interactions together. Then one day they tell you, “No. Don’t do that.”

And that’s it?

Bags packed? Trust gone? Relationship ruined?

Of course not.

So why are we pretending dogs are walking around with relationships so fragile that one correction suddenly erases everything else?

My relationship with my dog is bigger than a training moment. It’s every walk, every adventure, every game, every meal, every time they crawl into my lap, every time I advocate for them, every time I listen when they’re uncomfortable, every opportunity I give them to run, sniff, explore, play and just be a dog.

And yes, sometimes I tell them no. Sometimes I interrupt behaviour. Sometimes behaviour has a consequence.

That doesn’t mean our relationship suddenly becomes abusive. It means our relationship contains communication that isn’t exclusively, “Yes! Good dog! Here’s a cookie!”

And before someone twists this into something I’m not saying, of course corrections can damage trust. If your relationship is filled with intimidation, unpredictable punishment, excessive corrections, fear, conflict or pain, then yes, that absolutely matters.

Frequency matters. Intensity matters. Predictability matters. The individual dog matters.

But that’s exactly why saying “corrections damage your relationship” as a blanket statement is so ridiculous.

You can’t evaluate an entire relationship from one moment.

The absence of corrections is not proof of a good relationship, and the presence of a correction is not proof of a bad one.

And you can’t evaluate welfare by asking whether a dog ever experiences frustration, disappointment, restraint, boundaries or an unpleasant consequence.

Welfare is the whole life.

Does this dog feel safe with you? Do they seek you out? Do they communicate with you? Do they play with you? Do they explore confidently around you? Do they recover when something doesn’t go their way? Do they have choice, freedom, enrichment, connection and a life worth living?

Those things matter too.

So when someone tells me one correction is going to destroy my relationship with my dog, I honestly have to wonder:

How sh*tty do you think my relationship with my dog is?

Because if thousands of positive, safe, predictable interactions can supposedly be erased by one moment where my dog hears, “No. You can’t do that,” then apparently we weren’t talking about much of a relationship to begin with.

Healthy relationships aren’t built on never disagreeing.

They’re built on the entire history between two individuals.

08/15/2026

MY BIAS IS SHOWING.

Of course I’m biased.

I’ve been training dogs for a long time. I’ve had a lot of dogs in front of me, a lot of things work, a lot of things not work, and more than a few dogs completely change my mind about something I thought I had figured out.

That shapes how I see dog training.

Remote collars are a really good example.

There was a time when I used them for basically everything.

Obedience. Behaviour work. Board-and-trains. Recall.

I didn’t really question it.

I believed in what I was doing.

I was good at it.

I sold programs built around it.

Then along came Honey Badger.

A completely crazy 9-month-old deaf Bull Terrier with OCD.

And somewhere in working with that ridiculous dog, I started thinking about the collar differently.

Not because I suddenly decided remote collars were bad.

I just started asking myself what I actually needed one for.

Sit?

No.

Down?

No.

Place?

No.

Basic obedience?

No.

But recall?

Being able to communicate with a dog at a distance?

That still made sense to me.

So over time, I stopped using remote collars for everything else.

Now recall is where they begin and end for me.

And that history absolutely affects how I see them today.

I’ve used them a lot.

I’ve seen them work.

And I’ve also used them long enough to decide I don’t personally need them for most of the things I once used them for.

That’s part of my bias.

But here’s the thing.

We’re usually pretty quick to spot bias when it belongs to someone else.

If a trainer uses remote collars, people say, “Well of course they see it that way. They use them.”

But if a trainer has never used one and strongly opposes them, somehow that position can get treated like it’s neutral.

It isn’t.

We all have experiences that shape how we see these things.

The fact that someone else’s experience is different from ours doesn’t somehow make ours the neutral one.

If you’ve used something successfully for twenty years, that’s going to shape how you see it.

If you’ve never used it and were taught from day one that it’s something good trainers shouldn’t use, that’s going to shape how you see it too.

If you’ve watched a dog struggle under one approach, that stays with you.

If you’ve watched a dog completely turn around under another, that stays with you too.

The trainers we learn from shape us.

The dogs we work with shape us.

The things that worked shape us.

The things that failed shape us.

The people around us shape us.

Even the things we’ve never personally tried can shape us if we’ve spent years hearing about them from one point of view.

None of that automatically makes anyone wrong.

It just means none of us are walking into these conversations completely neutral.

I can trace some of my current thinking back to one completely crazy and amazingly perfect, deaf Bull Terrier named Honey Badger, who made me question something I had already been doing successfully for years.

That’s part of my bias.

My bias is showing.

So is yours.

And I think dog training conversations would get a whole lot better if we stopped pretending only the other person has one.

08/14/2026

An Open Letter to the Next Generation of Dog Trainers

If you're just getting into dog training, I want to tell you something I've been sitting with for a while.

I'm genuinely worried about the education you're receiving.

Not because I think you're being taught to care less about dogs. I actually think this generation cares more deeply about welfare, emotion, and doing right by the animal than any before it.

That's a good thing.

What worries me is that somewhere along the way, we started replacing education with ideology.

And ideology is starting to decide what you're even allowed to learn.

I don't care what you eventually call yourself.

Force-free. Balanced. Positive reinforcement trainer. LIMA. Whatever.

I genuinely don't care.

Because before you decide what kind of trainer you want to be, you deserve the opportunity to actually learn how dog training works.

All of it.

Instead, we're moving from:

"Learn everything. Understand it. Question it. Then make informed decisions."

to:

"We don't do that, so you don't need to learn it."

Trainers are expected to agree to codes, pledges, or restrictions about methods and equipment before they've even had the opportunity to fully understand what they're choosing not to use.

Think about that for a second.

We're asking people to make professional decisions about things we're simultaneously telling them they shouldn't learn.

That's not education.

Dogs don't stop learning through punishment because we stopped teaching it.

They don't stop experiencing negative reinforcement because we don't like discussing it.

Pressure doesn't disappear because we've decided pressure is bad.

Learning theory doesn't change because an organization changes its ethical position.

Positive reinforcement exists. Negative reinforcement exists. Positive punishment exists. Negative punishment exists.

You can make ethical decisions about when, whether, and how you intentionally use those processes.

But you still need to understand them. Because they're happening whether you intentionally use them or not.

And the same thing is happening with mechanical literacy.

Every piece of equipment has mechanics. A harness. A flat collar. A head halter. A slip lead. A prong collar. A long line.

They change leverage. They change where pressure occurs. They change how movement from your hand travels to the dog. They change how quickly information appears and disappears.

Learning those differences teaches your hands.

Timing. Pressure. Release. Movement. Position. Observation.

It teaches you to notice the tiny shift in weight before the dog moves. The moment tension appears in the leash. The difference between guiding and restraining. The half-second-late release that changes what the dog learns.

You might learn every one of those tools and ultimately decide you never want to use half of them.

Good. That's what an informed professional decision looks like.

Because there's a massive difference between:

"I understand and know exactly how this works, I've considered the risks and benefits, and I've decided not to use it."

and:

"I've never learned how it works because the people educating me told me good trainers don't use it."

One is education.

The other is ideology.

And I worry we're stripping away the first while congratulating ourselves for the second.

Here's where this eventually matters:

You're going to meet difficult dogs. Not Instagram dogs. Not demonstration dogs. Real dogs.

Dogs with complicated histories. Dogs with bite histories. Dogs whose behaviour has already cost them pieces of their lives. Dogs living under layers and layers of management. Dogs whose owners are exhausted. Dogs who don't respond the way your course told you they would. Dogs where there isn't an obvious perfect answer.

And that's when the depth of your education matters. You need more than a list of things you're allowed to do.

You need to understand behaviour. Learning. Mechanics. Welfare. Risk. What happens when Plan A doesn't work. And Plan B. And Plan C.

Because sometimes the dog standing in front of you isn't going to fit neatly inside your ideology.

And when that happens, the dog shouldn't pay the price for the gaps in your education.

That's my concern.

While the industry fights about which side gets to claim science, there are dogs whose worlds are getting smaller. Dogs spending their lives under management. Dogs who can't safely access environments. Dogs who never gain the skills necessary for greater freedom. Dogs whose families eventually reach the limits of what they can manage.

No, that doesn't mean every one of those dogs needs a prong collar or a remote collar. That's exactly the kind of simplistic thinking I'm arguing against.

It means you need enough education to evaluate the individual dog and understand the options in front of you.

Sometimes the answer will be reinforcement. Sometimes management. Sometimes environmental change. Sometimes changing the owner's expectations. Sometimes deciding that a particular goal isn't appropriate at all.

And sometimes professionals will disagree about what the best option is.

Good. That's what happens in complicated fields.

But you should understand enough to participate in that conversation.

I don't want you blindly defending tools. I don't want you blindly condemning them either.

I want you educated enough that you don't need someone else to tell you what to think.

Learn reinforcement incredibly well. Learn punishment. Learn motivation. Learn frustration. Learn pressure and release. Learn timing. Learn mechanics. Learn management. Learn body language. Learn emotion. Learn welfare. Learn risk.

Learn the science. Learn its limitations too.

Learn everything you possibly can.

Then decide what kind of trainer you want to be.

Because knowledge doesn't force you to use something. Knowledge gives you the ability to make an informed decision not to.

That's what I think we're forgetting.

I don't care what label the next generation of trainers chooses.

I care whether we've educated you well enough to deserve the dogs who will eventually be standing in front of you.

Because while ideology might win arguments online, dogs don't benefit from trainers who were taught less.

They benefit from trainers who understand more.

08/09/2026

I Don’t Want My Dog to Come Because They’re Afraid Not To.

And I say that as someone who uses remote collars.

I want my dog to come because coming back to me has been rehearsed hundreds of times.

Because the cue makes sense.

Because the pager makes sense.

Because turning toward me, moving toward me, catching up with me and reconnecting has an enormous reinforcement history behind it.

I want the response to exist before I ever need a consequence for choosing not to respond.

That distinction matters.

Because there are two very different questions we can ask when teaching recall:

“How do I make my dog come when I call?”

and

“How do I teach my dog that coming when called is something worth doing?”

Those questions can eventually lead to the same observable behaviour:

Dog hears recall cue → dog comes back.

But what you see at the end doesn’t necessarily tell you how the behaviour was built.

And that’s something I think gets lost in conversations about remote collars.

The collar can make it incredibly easy to focus on the consequence.

Dog doesn’t come → press button.

Dog still doesn’t come → increase pressure.

Dog comes → pressure disappears.

Technically, you may get the behaviour you wanted.

But I don’t think the fact that the dog returned tells us everything we need to know about the quality of the training.

I want to know what happened before the dog ever made that mistake.

Did we build a strong recall without the collar?

Did we condition the pager so the dog understands what that sensation means?

Did we create enough reinforcement history?

Did we teach the dog in easy environments before expecting the same behaviour around difficult distractions?

Did we actually proof this level of difficulty?

Does the dog understand what we’re asking?

Because if those pieces aren’t there, adding more pressure doesn’t fix the training gap.

It can just make the dog respond despite it.

That’s why stimulation comes so late in how I teach remote-collar recall.

The first goal isn’t:

“You have to come because otherwise something unpleasant happens.”

It’s:

“That feeling means find me.”

Pager.

Head turns.

I move.

Dog catches up.

Reward.

And very often…

Go explore again.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until that little vibration on the dog’s neck isn’t something threatening.

It’s information.

Where are you?

Oh. There you are.

I’m coming.

And then we go right back to living.

Eventually I want a dog who can be sniffing, exploring, running through the woods or completely absorbed in being a dog…

feel that pager…

and whip around looking for me.

Not because they’re worried about what happens if they don’t.

Because they have an extensive learning history telling them exactly what that signal predicts.

Does that mean there can never be a consequence for knowingly ignoring a fully trained recall?

No.

That’s where I differ from trainers who believe aversive consequences should never be part of training.

There may eventually be a point where the dog clearly perceives the cue, understands the behaviour, has successfully performed it under comparable conditions, and consciously chooses something else.

For me, that’s an entirely different training problem from a dog who doesn’t understand.

And I don’t think those two dogs should be treated the same way.

That’s the part of remote-collar training I wish we talked about more.

Not:

“Do you use stimulation?”

But:

“What has to be true before you believe using it is appropriate?”

Because the button is the easiest part.

Knowing when not to press it requires considerably more skill.

I don’t want my dog spending their time off leash worrying about making a mistake.

I want them running.

Sniffing.

Exploring.

Making choices.

Being a dog.

And when I need them?

I want them to know exactly how to find their way back to me.

Reliability matters. But so does how we build it.

Street Wise Canine

08/26/2026

08/23/2026

08/21/2026

08/20/2026

08/18/2026

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08/09/2026

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