Brian Lee blames the biscuits. The 66-year-old trainer from Redondo Beach, near Los Angeles, says too many owners spoil their dogs with food. “It’s all treats, treats, treats, so help me God,” he told the Journal’s Jamie Waters. In his view, a dog that gets paid for everything acts like a kid handed a BMW at 16. The treat camp says that’s silly. The fight between the two sides has turned nasty.
Here’s the split. Positive trainers mostly reward and rarely punish. Balanced trainers reward too, but they also correct. Some use prong collars, which press on the neck when a dog pulls. Both sides use treats. Lee is in the balanced camp. His method starts with the owner. Change how you act, he says, and the dog starts to respect you. He’ll use some treats too. His complaint is that most people never stop. He puts the number at 90%. Victoria Stilwell, a celebrity trainer in Atlanta, laughs at the idea that treats spoil a dog. She uses them to build a bond, and she says good trainers mix their motivators.
The name-calling is the fun part. Positive trainers call the balanced side cruel, or the devil, Lee says. Balanced trainers call positive trainers “treat-slinging wieners”, says Dr. Ian Dunbar, a Berkeley vet and the godfather of positive training. He says the personal attacks started about 15 years ago. “Even lawyers are better than that,” he said. Dunbar also admits some trainers on his side overdo the food and never phase it out. The owner ends up bribing the dog forever.
Nobody checks the trainer’s license
Here’s the part that matters for your wallet. In the U.S., no law requires a trainer to hold a particular certification. Clive Wynne, who runs a canine science lab at Arizona State, says trainers build a name with a secret sauce and noise. He also says there’s scant evidence that either method is better. Two dog owners learned that the slow way. They took Rio, a five-year-old rescue, part fox terrier and part Chihuahua, to a treat-forward trainer in Los Angeles. The barking and jumping didn’t stop. Then they went to Lee. New house rules followed. Cuddles happen on the floor, and the couch and bed are off limits. Five one-hour sessions over three months got Rio about 90% of the way there, they say. The owners also put him on Prozac for anxiety, and they give that some credit. He still gets freeze-dried salmon when he’s been very good.
Our read
This is an Insurance and Consumer Protection story (M11), and it’s about hiring anyone with no license. The Journal doesn’t print what a trainer costs, so we won’t guess. What it does print is enough. No certification is required. The science doesn’t crown a winner. The loudest trainer isn’t the best one. So you vet a dog trainer the way you’d vet any paid adviser. Ask what the method is, in plain words. Ask how many sessions it should take and what the total will be. Ask what happens if it doesn’t work. A good one answers all three before you pay a dime.
The concrete thing in your plan is the pet line. Most household budgets we review don’t have one, and the dog is family. Food, vet, training, boarding. Put a real number on it. This week, if you’re about to hire a trainer, write down the method, the number of sessions and the total before the first session. We’d rather you check the trainer before the treats. That’s what a review is for.