This is an old still of Lewis running, unrelated to the contest
The results are tabulated! I don’t do clickbait, so I’ll tell you here at the beginning that Clip A was the escape clip (see the post title), and Clip B was the “automatic reinforcement” (and possible social reinforcement) clip. Most people picked B as the escape clip, for excellent reasons/observations.
Observations and Interpretations
I was super pleased and impressed that every single person who entered the contest included an astute observation. Every entrant took the question seriously and wrote down something they noticed. And people noticed all sorts of things that I hadn’t. For instance, that the ground looked wet in one clip and not in the other.
Two of the people who chose Clip A noted his lowered tail carriage. That was a good tell for him, but it’s so dog-dependent! Because I know him, I can recognize that as possibly meaning, “Something’s wrong with my butt!” Good catch, you two!
Many people found it significant that Lewis headed toward me at the end of Clip A and drew various conclusions from that. That was my bad. I tried to make the clips of similar lengths and had to edit Clip B a lot since it was longer and had some pretty obvious “tells” in it. I didn’t want to edit down Clip A much. But leaving in that approach was a mistake, since Lewis approached me at the true end of Clip B as well.
The other thing I regret relating to Clip B was using the words joy and eustress vs. distress. I should have stuck with “automatically reinforced.” Lewis was certainly having some kind of fun in the non-escape clip, but if I’m going to draw conclusions about his inner state, I think I would’ve been more accurate to call it “bratty fun” than “joy.” You’ll see that when you look at the whole clip.
Finally, many people noticed the tension in his face in Clip B and named that the escape clip. He did indeed have a lot of tension in his face. That is typical for him in any aroused situation. And if we speculate further, this could also have been a less obvious “escape” clip, in the sense that when running, he might have been seeking relief from social pressure, for instance.
Here’s a photo of Lewis with a tense face.
I could never use it for a contest, because no one could guess what activity was going on. Lewis and I were doing our greeting routine after I got home. He is a frenzied greeter. For greetings, I guide him to the back of the couch, where he can get up to my face level. It’s clear he is very, very glad I am home. But he gets aroused, so his face looks like this some of the time.
I have observed tension in his face in many situations that likely have a positive emotional valence. The question in my mind is why his face is comparatively relaxed in the poop clip.
The Clips
Here are the full clips that the shortened ones for the contest came from. Well, almost full because I didn’t show the poopy butt.
One reason I chose to make a contest from these two clips is that I could determine, with a fair amount of accuracy, what the function of the running was in one clip, the escape clip. Before he started running, he had pooped, then dragged his butt on the ground and mouthed at his rear with growing agitation. I saw the poop on his butt. So, I felt I could safely state that he was either trying to dislodge the poop (escape) or running from the sensation (escape). He had actually done this same routine a few times in the past. He stopped running when the poop was dislodged. But he didn’t succeed on his own this time. He approached me and let me clean up his butt. I am circumspect about declaring function, but this one was visible.
The clip that I determined was non-escape was more of a reach on my part. I should have stuck with calling it automatic reinforcement, since that can be positive or negative. And I believe it had a strong social aspect. Some people mentioned he was “orbiting” the area where I was. Great observation! Also, two other dogs were with me. In the full clip, you’ll see that he both started there and ended there by the hole in the ground. He didn’t dig this time, but loved to dig in that hole, especially when Clara had been digging, then go tearing around the yard.
The Winners!
Out of 31 entries, 5 guessed the correct clip (A). If nobody had, I would’ve given up contests for good. (I might anyway!) I used the Wheel of Names to pick two winners; they are Amy B. and Bonnie T.
I have emailed you two!
Thanks to everyone who entered. You are all astute observers!
The contest deadline has passed; I will publish the results in another post.
It’s been 12 years since I had a contest, and I’ve learned a little since then. Back in 2013, I challenged people to match a ridiculous number of photos to descriptions of the situation by observing my dog Summer’s facial expressions. Some truly good sports gave it a try.
Let’s see if I can do a better job. This contest is different, a comparison of two videos of the same dog with but one question to answer. I have no idea how hard it will be since I have the Curse of Knowledge, but at least it isn’t 31 photos with insufficient context!
These are all avoidance behaviors. They may or may not be fallout.
To email subscribers: I have changed my notification service again, which means that you may have to unsubscribe again if you did so from the previous email. I apologize. I hate bothering people. I am now locked into a service for a year so this won’t likely happen again.
I propose that “fallout” may be in the eyes of the beholder. I know that sounds weird, but bear with me and see what you think.
Over 10 years ago, I published a blog page on fallout from the use of aversives in training. It lists definitions and descriptions of the types of fallout that can result from aversive use, all with citations from the literature. It’s a simple page, and a popular one.
But I didn’t define fallout. It wasn’t until recently that I realized I had missed that very important point.
So let’s go!
Definition of Fallout
I couldn’t find a definition in any behavior science textbook, and I think I know why. I’ll get to that later. For now, here is a dictionary definition, which references physics.
Fallout 1. a : the often radioactive particles stirred up by or resulting from a nuclear explosion and descending through the atmosphere also : other polluting particles (such as volcanic ash) descending likewise b : descent (as of fallout) through the atmosphere
2 : a secondary and often lingering effect, result, or set of consequences
Murray Sidman
Dr. Murray Sidman popularized the term “fallout” in behavior science in his book, Coercion and Its Fallout (1989). I couldn’t find substantial references to the term in the literature before that. (Someone please correct me if I’m wrong.) He used the term in the sense of the second definition above, but he referenced the first definition. The usage spread across the behavior world.
The following is the closest I could find to an actual definition in Sidman’s book.
A nuclear explosion’s side effects—the extensive radioactive fallout—cause both immediate and long-delayed, but lasting human misery. The suffering that the fallout produces overwhelms any positive benefits of a victory that nuclear warfare accomplishes. The side effects of punishment, too, far from being secondary, often have considerably greater behavioral significance than the hoped for “main effects.” — Sidman, 1989, p. 81
I think it’s accurate to characterize fallout as “side effects.” Sidman emphasized the “long-lasting” part.
Side effect : a secondary and usually adverse effect (as of a drug)
Note that Dr. Sidman’s book was aimed at lay people. It has few references and no reference list, and although it uses some technical language, it’s conversational and full of examples that apply to everyday life.
I’m going to start with one of my own.
An Example of Behavioral Fallout
This is a hard story to tell.
When I was in a Novice obedience class with my dog Summer many years ago, the instructors set up an exercise based on the training methods of the Volhards. We were to heel our dogs by a man who would wave a treat at them. If the dog turned to go for the food, we were to pop their collar with a jerk of the leash. The goal was to punish moving out of position when faced with a tempting distraction. (I won’t editorialize about the fact that we hadn’t taught our dogs yet not to take available food.)
I did as told. Summer yelped and cringed when I popped her collar. I felt awful and didn’t want to do the exercise a second time, but, to my everlasting shame, I did. The second time, Summer’s body language wilted when she saw the man, and she dodged behind me and moved to my right side to avoid him. I was heartbroken and full of guilt that she trusted me to protect her when I was the one who had hurt her. I walked her away from the man. This experience was a turning point in my training. I could not and would not do that again.
Let’s allow poor Summer’s story to help us with analysis. The intent of the exercise was 1) for the dog to learn to stay in heel position because 2) the behavior of moving toward a distraction was punished. The latter was successful. Summer didn’t go for the food the second time. But Summer did not stay in heel position either, which was the overall goal. The fallout, the “unintended side effects,” were avoidance that took her out of heel position and an enduring fear of the man who had held the treat. Besides the obvious tragedy for my dog, fear of a man standing in a competition ring is not a sought-after situation. This was clearly unintended by the instructors as well.
For an example of more extreme fallout, check out this post.
Yes, those are toothmarks on Coercion and Its Fallout
Distinguishing between Sidman’s “Main Effects” and Fallout
Now here’s an odd thing. As positive reinforcement-based trainers, we may conflate the direct, “successful” punishment of a behavior with fallout, because they often look the same. We’re actually not wrong. Often, they are the same—the same behavior. We don’t intend to use positive punishment, but sometimes it happens by accident. We may see, as a result, avoidance behaviors that we did not intend. The difference between an “effect” and a “side effect” is intent.
Let’s say Lucine decides to use an indoor invisible shock barrier to prevent her dog, Jackson, from coming through the kitchen doorway during food prep and human mealtimes. (In case it’s not clear, this is an awful idea.) Jackson quickly learns that going through the doorway results in a shock. His behavior of walking through the doorway decreases. We would see avoidance of the doorway, Sidman’s “main effect” of the punishment.
But Jackson might also stop going through the kitchen doorway even when invited—a side effect. Lucine intended for Jackson to stay away only during human mealtimes, but Jackson won’t go near the door anytime. This could be characterized as fallout. It’s the same avoidance behavior, but it was unintended. I think this is why fallout is not a defined term in behavior science; determining whether a behavior is “intended” or “unintended,” or even whether it is adverse, is subjective. Even Sidman didn’t use “fallout” in his myriad scholarly papers.
Some of the more brutal trainers on social media don’t seem to care at all when a dog is trembling or cowering in fear. We’d call that fallout, but they probably wouldn’t. Someone who values shut-down dogs will find this fallout acceptable, even desirable.
Going further with Jackson: other examples of fallout in this situation could be if he refused to walk through other doorways or walk on flooring that resembled the tile in Lucine’s kitchen. If Lucine was standing near the doorway a few times when Jackson was shocked, then he might avoid her as well. More behaviors than just walking through Lucine’s kitchen doorway were punished.
This fallout is an example of generalization of avoidance, #1 on my list from the fallout from aversives page.
The above is a true story with the names changed. Jackson also developed stress colitis that strongly correlated with the use of the indoor shock—more fallout. This would correlate with #7 on the fallout list: injury. The correlation with the shock was strong: his colitis resolved whenever he was boarded away from home.
Balanced Trainers and Fallout
I looked for discussion online by balanced trainers who might be concerned about fallout from aversive methods. I found one mention, an instruction about how to use aversives without sending dogs into learned helplessness. But instead, I found many trainers claiming there were terrible problems (fallout) caused by positive reinforcement-based training.
We’ve all seen those arguments. I tried to find specifics from them about why a specific training method caused a specific problem behavior. I didn’t find any such specificity. Just general complaints about “permissiveness” and claims that the balanced folks were the saviors of all the dogs the “purely positive” folks had damaged.
So Is There Fallout from Positive Reinforcement?
Is there fallout from positive reinforcement in the sense I talk about above? Behavioral side effects of positive reinforcement training? Maybe even negative ones?
There can be unintended effects. Please read on. If you are like me, they are not what you might have assumed.
There is an interesting article that talks about the “parallel” side effects of aversive and appetitive stimuli/training (Balsam & Bondy, 1983). In the article, they list, with citations, many documented side effects of aversive control. Then they go through these side effects and identify parallels/opposites as side effects of appetitive control.
Before I go on, there is also an excellent rebuttal to this article by Epstein (1985), who points out the authors’ logical fallacy of claiming that the effects of reinforcement and punishment are parallel. According to Epstein, if they were truly parallel, then reinforcement should have positive (as in desirable) side effects, not negative. But I do appreciate their lists of side effects, however we characterize them.
Here’s one example: a classic side effect of aversive use is avoidance. Avoidance of the aversive stimulus itself, the person associated with it, the location, etc. The parallel side effect of appetitive use is approach. Organisms move toward appetitive stimuli (or, if they’re not mobile, have another strategy that brings the stimuli close to them). It’s hard to think of approach as a bad thing. So many of us who own or work with fearful dogs are delighted when we build positive enough associations that the animal will approach.
But approach, especially persistent approach, can be a training challenge.
You see this with trainers who work with zoo animals, equines, or larger dogs. An experienced zoo trainer will teach the big (or prickly, or toothsome) animal in protected contact, maintaining that setup as long as necessary for safety. A skilled positive reinforcement-based equine trainer will teach a horse not to mug and push for the food—first thing. They may also start in protected contact.
You will also see methods by wildlife rehabbers to prevent animals from learning to associate humans with available food. If an animal is to be released, we don’t want it to get attracted to humans. Rehabbers have various mechanisms to prevent the “person predicts food” association. Approach to humans by many wild animals can lead to their quick injury or death.
The images below show a more ordinary problem. This was young Lewis’ first full day in my home. He was desperately needy and trying to figure out how to get positive attention. The Balsam & Bondy article mentions “clinginess” as a problem associated with approach. This was a problem—for about a day. That’s how long it took him to learn how to interact in a way that works better for humans and got him access to the attention and goodies he craved. This is not comparable to the long-term side effects of aversive use discussed by Sidman.
Persistent approach might be good or bad, depending on the trainer’s goals and the stage of the training. This means that I disagree with the title of the Balsam & Bondy article, “The Negative Side Effects of Reward,” (1983) and agree with Epstein’s opinion. But even with those disagreements, the article is worth reading. It has a unique comparison of some effects of appetitive and aversive training. And a bonus: this article, like several others, does not say what the anti-positive reinforcement crowd implies it does because of the title. It’s good to get acquainted with the content.
I said there were “unintended” side effects. That’s true for a lot of us. But the really great trainers know to expect them, and they use them as part of their training plans from the beginning.
Negative, Positive, and Neutral Side Effects
I believe Sidman used the word “fallout” and its intensely negative connotations to communicate with a lay audience. It’s important to keep in mind that avoidance is a functional response. So is generalization of avoidance, which we generally call fallout. But generalization, throwing a wide net of what to avoid, is what allows many wild animals to survive. I would guess that it’s not “fallout” to them.
But wild animals live in a world of many dangers. Our pets and other animals under our care do not (or should not).
I think the main takeaway is that when we are training or interacting with our companion animals, using aversive methods causes suffering—for them. The side effects of positive reinforcement training can be inconvenient at times, generally for us, and they depend on our skill levels. If food is creating unwanted consequences, a skilled trainer can generally use the same food to change the consequences. These side effects need not be long-lasting.
A balanced trainer I met at a trial once complained about my dogs frequently offering behaviors. To me, it’s a good thing; to them it was a negative side effect, a mistake. I wasn’t able to explain then that any positive reinforcement trainer more skilled than I could easily teach their dogs when it’s appropriate to offer behaviors and when it’s not (a.k.a. stimulus control). Again, this is not a long-lasting problem. It’s a training issue that I didn’t choose to address.
Conclusion
So what do you think? I did not expect this outcome when I looked into “fallout.” I thought there would be an operationalizable definition, but I didn’t find one.
Balsam, P. D., & Bondy, A. S. (1983). The negative side effects of reward. Journal of applied behavior analysis, 16(3), 283-296.
Epstein, R. (1985). The positive side effects of reinforcement: A commentary on Balsam and Bondy (1983). Journal of applied behavior analysis, 18(1), 73.
Sidman, M. (1989). Coercion and its fallout. Boston: Authors Cooperative.
In my webinars on dogs and sound, I discuss the glaring inadequacies of the dogs and music studies. The problems are now being covered in detail by scholars in the field as well (Kriengwatana et al., 2022; Kriengwatana et al., 2025; Lindig et al., 2020; Snowdon, 2021). In my opinion, the most important issue is that the studies designed to assess whether dogs benefit from music have used entire pieces of music before testing dogs’ abilities to perceive the basics. Music is complex. No researcher started with simple melodies; no one separately tested whether dogs can distinguish between consonance and dissonance, which is key to the western classical and pop music they usually test. No one separated out rhythm to see what dogs could discern. No one tested to see if there were certain instruments or vocal sounds the dogs responded to. In other words, no one separated the variables. Instead, they compared dogs’ responses to whole playlists of, for example, “classical” music, pop, rock, or reggae.
I write about my life with my dogs and how I strive to give them the best lives I can. I love both training and the theory of it. The training I do is in the service of enrichment for my dogs and making their lives easier in our human world. The training is fun for all of us.
This page is a gateway to a variety of posts selected from the 13 years of the blog’s existence. The images below link to curated lists of posts on some of my favorite topics. They are:
Dog body language
Dogs and sound
Behavior science and research
Fear in dogs (and how we help them with it)
Training
Reader favorites
Each list has 25–35 posts, for 158 posts in all. There are many, many more categories than the six featured here and many more posts and pages (a total of about 470). To see a list of all my posts and pages, check out the Site Map. However, on the site map, each post is listed in only one category, even if it fits several. This is one reason I created these curated categories.
For another view: if you want to see all the posts in (reverse) chronological order, see the Archives in the right sidebar, or just start scrolling down.
My blog is my writing home, and I chronicle my growth as a trainer and my slowly increasing understanding of how learning and behavior work. I have signed the Pro-Truth Pledge, and if I post misinformation, I invite people to call me on it. When I post essays about behavior science, I always have them vetted by experts in the field. My academic expertise is in music and sound, and I’m proud of my Dogs and Sound category.
I have an “I Was Wrong” category, whose entries will undoubtedly continue to grow. Separately, I highlight my (often humorous) errors in training in posts with the “Training Errors” tag.
I have been writing this blog since July 2012 and have published more than 600,000 words. You can learn more about me at my About Eileen page. I was a YouTuber before I started the blog, so many posts include videos. I am privileged that I am not forced to monetize the site, so you will find no pop-ups, third-party ads, or affiliate links. If you are here to read my words, I don’t want anything to get in your way.
I have created a little journal to accompany my book, Remember Me? Loving and Caring fora Dog with Canine Cognitive Dysfunction.
To debut the new journal, I have put all my books on sale at 30% off.
Availability
The paperbacks are available at the sale price only at Amazon, and I’m sorry about that for those who do not support that business. But I also put the ebook of Remember Me on sale on my own website where you can buy it directly from me. Use the coupon code JULYSALE to get the discount. Again, that is the ebook version of my book on canine cognitive dysfunction, not the journal, which doesn’t exist in ebook form.
About the Journal and Who It’s For
The journal is a “perfect” bound paperback, just a regular paperback, with 126 lined pages (see samples below). Half of the lined pages have either prompts, tips, or words of encouragement for people who care for dogs with canine cognitive dysfunction.
I created the journal for people who are new to caring for a dog with dementia and may not have any experience with training or enrichment for dogs in general. The journal includes a list of possible symptoms that can be taken to the owner’s vet, and I gently urge people to track their dogs’ symptoms. It provides a central place for owners to keep notes on their dogs and their own journey. The words of encouragement in the journal pages might be the most important part, because goodness knows how lonely and difficult it can be to care for a beloved but impaired dog.
The journal is not highly structured. It has a three-page intro from me, an “About My Dog” page, and the list of possible symptoms. The rest of the book is lined pages, blank except for the prompts, tips, and encouraging words at the top of the right hand pages.
If it’s financially feasible, I’ll create a spiral-bound version of the journal through another printer, but it will cost significantly more.
If you are looking for a structured journal from a veterinary medical professional to help you care for a senior dog, I recommend Dr. Mary Gardner’s Geriatric Dog Health & Care Journal.
The Sales!
All of my books are currently 30% off until July 17th. See the prices below and click the links to purchase.
There’s a “Look Inside” option at Amazon that lets you see the introduction of the journal. In addition, here are some of the journal pages. Click to enlarge.
Feel free to share this post. I’m sure some of you trainers out there have clients who could benefit from a place to put all their notes about their senior dog.
Imagine that you are in a storm shelter while a tornado passes overhead or close by. Or, god forbid, a bomb shelter during a conflagration. If your shelter had an attractive exterior and some nice amenities inside, like chairs, beds, and lighting, would you stop being afraid of the tornado or the military action going on above or around you? Not likely.
Yet we easily assume, and marketers push the idea, that once a dog is hiding from the thing that scares them, they are relaxed and happy.
Fearful dogs deserve more than a hiding place. Because a hiding dog is a frightened dog. As their friends and protectors, we owe it to them to address the fear.
Owners of fearful dogs are a vulnerable population. They love their dogs and must see them suffer. They experience helplessness and grief. If someone offers a solution, like a product that is purported to fix or at least comfort their dog, if they can afford it, they are usually all in.
I say “they,” but I’m part of this population. In the past, I have bought the products. I bought a compression garment. I bought special music. If people had been marketing “safe haven” hiding enclosures that promised protection and relaxation back then, I might have bought one if I could’ve afforded it.
Hiding Place Products
So many things are marketed to alleviate anxiety and fear these days. Supplements, music, enclosures, dog beds. (Dog beds? Yep. “Anxiety-reducing dog bed!”) Providing products that supposedly “cure” fear and anxiety in dogs is a huge business.
I’ve been writing posts and creating webinars to uncover the lies in the marketing language about these products for some time now. I’m angry because most do not operate as promised and they are exploiting people who are trying to help their suffering dogs. Many also denigrate interventions for which there is evidence.
Here is some of the marketing language for three enclosures designed to protect dogs from sound and other stimuli.These are all verbatim from the products’ websites except for the explanatory phrases in parentheses.
Product 1: Peaceful, shelter, stylish, safe, natural, wellbeing, sleek, instinctive, refuge, silent, cozy, haven, calm, natural calming process, without the need for medication, peace of mind (for human). (Amelioration of separation anxiety is implied.)
Product 2: Safe haven, tranquil haven, significantly reduces anxiety, sleek, stress-free home, ensure peace of mind for every member of the family.
Product 3: Calm, sanctuary, “solution” (for separation anxiety and sound phobia), calming music “based on research studies,” effective substitute for medicine, soothe the animal.
They sound great, don’t they? Especially if you don’t know that their claims are overblown. They make ridiculous promises. None of the product pages recommend addressing the cause of the dog’s fears. None of them acknowledge that sound phobia or separation anxiety are serious medical conditions. Two of them paint the use of medications as undesirable. Marketers know that there are many dog owners who are reluctant to try behavioral medications. Their marketing actively pushes people away from effective ways of helping their dogs.
Hiding as a Part of a Training Plan
Providing a safe hiding place for a pet can certainly be a management method as part of a training plan.
My interest in hiding places was rekindled by a product that was advertised recently. But I’ve been interested in them for a long time, ever since I’ve had fearful dogs. I have a page of do-it-yourself hiding places for dogs. But a hiding place is a first step. It’s not the only intervention. Hiding places are far from the only element of the process of helping the dog. And they are not one-size-fits-all, as product marketing implies.
But let’s back up. Being so scared of something that you want to hide is awful. So shouldn’t our first questions be, “Is the trigger something we can control so we can prevent the exposure in the first place?” and “Can I help my dog learn to be less afraid?” Address either of those, and then our animal won’t have such a great need to hide. I recently heard someone brag with delight that their dog ran to their custom hiding place when the vacuum came out. While it’s great that the dog has someplace to go, what if the human made sure not to vacuum when the dog was around? Gave them something nice to chew in a far room of the house with some masking sounds on, or vacuumed when another family member took the dog out for a while? There would be that much less fear in the dog’s life if the human simply prevented exposure. Not to mention that they could go a step further and help the dog not to fear the vacuum.
There are steps previous to helping our pet hide, and many steps to take after a hiding place is provided. I want more for Lewis, and for your dogs. I want them not to need to hide.
The Aversiveness of Hiding Places
This is a mind-blowing thought. Fancy crates or custom-fitted closets are supposed to make our pets feel better! But if an animal stays in a hiding place because of something that scares them, that place just has to be less aversive than the thing they are trying to flee.
It’s easy to think of hiding places as places our dogs goto, rather than as places they go to get away from something. We imagine them as pleasant and comforting. But they merely have to be less awful for the animal than being fully exposed to what they are afraid of. This is an escape contingency. Remember the tornado shelter.
Assuming that “attractive hiding place” = “happy and relaxed dog” is a terrible misunderstanding.
My Feral Cat’s Hiding Place
I learned about the potential aversiveness of hiding places from Arabella, my feral cat.
Feral cat Arabella in her hiding place
She hid from humans, including me if I was moving around. She loved my three other cats and preferred to hang out with them. She would visit me and solicit petting if (and only if) I was in bed. She never became “tame” in the usual sense of the word. She was nervous around me if I was moving (and usually ran away) and was petrified of all other humans.
She found a hiding spot: a cabinet under the sink in a bathroom. The door didn’t latch, so she could open it with her nose or paw. It would close behind her when she got in. I will never forget the sound of that cabinet door flapping shut behind her whenever anything unusual happened in the house.
She spent a lot of time in there, so I put in a towel for her to lie on. The bathroom itself had no windows and was very dark when the light wasn’t on, so inside her closed cabinet she was in near-total darkness. It probably reeked of cleaning supplies.
In some situations, Arabella would stay in the cabinet for over twelve hours. I don’t need to describe all the ways this was likely unpleasant for her, because her behavior said it all. As soon as I stayed put or the people were gone, she shot out of there. The place she had escaped to now became the place she escaped from.
Arabella’s situation taught me that a hiding place isn’t necessarily happy or relaxing. All a hiding place has to do is be less aversive than the thing the animal is escaping. I wish I had known better back then how to help her.
Unfortunately, we humans can be swayed into thinking hiding places are happy if the place is attractive and dedicated to the pet. But we shouldn’t assume that those qualities affect the pet’s experience.
Picking a Hiding Place
So, given that many of us have animals that need to hide sometimes, what should we consider in helping them optimize their choice? Just as we do a functional assessment before a training intervention, if we need to provide a hiding place for our pet, it’s important to know the function of the hiding behavior and observe the animal’s preferences. When considering products or do-it-yourself solutions, we need to assess the suitability. We need to determine as best we can whether a particular product or hiding place protects them from what they are trying to escape, and whether their history (including medical conditions) and preferences ensure it is a safe place for them. But let’s get away from the assumption of products for now, because usually our dogs have already told us what kind of hiding place they prefer.
Lewis in one of his “hiding places” when he was scared of noises
Lewis has hidden during very loud thunder or fireworks, especially before we had the right medications to help him. Of course I let him hide; it would be cruel to force him out when he has retreated. His choice is usually to wedge himself between pieces of furniture without regard to whether he can be seen. (See the first photo in this post and the one wrapped in this section.) In fact, he chooses places where he can see us, his people. I have shown him cozy closets, covered crates, a secluded back room, and a small dark bathroom that was a favorite of a previous dog and outfitted with a dog bed. He doesn’t seek these dark, secluded spaces. His response shows that a purchased enclosed “hiding place” would be a waste of money. His chosen hiding places don’t protect him from loud bangs and booms, but neither do the crates that claim to. In my webinars, I discuss extensively why attempts at soundproofing against thunder and fireworks don’t work.
We do need to make sure the dog’s chosen place is safe. Some hiding places aren’t. I think twice about the bathroom option nowadays.
A Word about Dens
Baby Clara, after I showed her a crate on her first night with me
Females of many species of mammals whelp and raise their litters in secluded areas or dens. This includes feral and free-ranging dogs. (Dogs who live in homes are usually provided a secluded, human-created whelping area.) There are some interesting studies about the characteristics of dens that free-ranging dogs choose (Sen Majumder et al., 2016; Bhadra & Sarkar, 2023).
But reductionist statements like “Dogs are den animals” or “Dogs love dens” are not justifications for hiding places as complete solutions for dogs who are hiding out of fear. Nor do such statements acknowledge a dog’s individuality.
I say this as someone who had a feral puppy enter my house one night. At bedtime, she scooted straight into a small, comfy crate I provided her and stayed there, completely silent, all night. We could say, as I did then “Wow, she was probably raised in a den, she loves having her own little space.” Clara probably was raised in a den, culvert, or other secluded area. But even if enclosed spaces were familiar to her, we could also say, “This pup, who is terrified of humans and suddenly removed from her littermates and the only environment she knows, is scared and hiding.”
Lewis, on the other hand, spent two months living in a cage at a veterinary practice as an older pup. The first night I had him, I guided him into a crate with a cushy bed, right next to my bed. I gave him some goodies to eat, but he yelled immediately when I closed the door. (I opened it immediately, and we scrapped that idea for the time being.) Ironically, it’s likely that he, also, was raised in a ditch or other secluded space.
We need to look at the function. Statements about dogs’ love of dens are labels, and they negate dogs’ individual preferences.
Dogs Deserve More
Because of medications and training, Lewis is resting during some of the worst noise of Independence day.
Don’t believe the hype: buying a hiding place won’t solve all your dog’s problems. In many cases, it won’t help anything at all. The itch to purchase a fancy place for our dog to hide in should be a signal for us to do more. To do whatever we can to address the animal’s fear or discomfort directly.
I absolutely believe in letting scared dogs hide. But providing, helping them find, or optimizing a hiding place is not a solution for a dog in fear. It’s one part of a plan. When there are ways to prevent their fear from reaching a point where they need to hide, my ethics are that I am bound to try to help them. Because repeated fear and panic are not good. And spending a lot of time hiding is no way to live.
If you need expert help for your fearful dog, contact Debbie Jacobs of Fearfuldogs.com or Malena DeMartini and her team (specifically for separation anxiety). Both provide phone and/or online consults. And both can help you teach your dog that the world is a much less scary place than they formerly thought. Your dog won’t likely need to hide anymore.
References
Bhadra, A., & Sarkar, R. (2023). A Dog’s life in the human jungle. In Canine Cognition and the Human Bond (pp. 63-90). Cham: Springer International Publishing.
Sen Majumder, S., Paul, M., Sau, S., & Bhadra, A. (2016). Denning habits of free-ranging dogs reveal preference for human proximity. Scientific reports, 6(1), 32014.
Comparison of the waveforms of a dryer and random noise
No, I don’t mean you should record the thunder! Record a custom masking noise for your dog who fears thunder, fireworks, or other sudden or low-frequency noises.
In my webinars and articles, I talk about the types of sound masking that work best. From a biophysics standpoint, the best multipurpose masking noises are brown or other random noise, fans, home appliances with motors, and music with a lot of bass and drums. Low frequencies can mask sounds of higher frequencies, but it doesn’t work the other way around (Kinsler et al., 1999, p. 318–320). That’s why I always recommend low frequencies as long as they don’t scare the dog.
Beyond the considerations of physics, we must customize to the individual dog. For instance, taiko drumming recordings are great for masking booms, but because of that, they may trigger your dog. The way to go about it is to think of what is available in your household that your dog is already OK with. You can record these known sounds, especially if they are duration sounds that include low frequencies. Appliances your dog is used to are ideal.
What Did I Record?
As I was scrambling to cope with Lewis’ newly emerging fears, it occurred to me that fan noise and random noise (brown, pink, white, etc.) are homogeneous. They create a hum or a whoosh or a rumble, but no momentary noises stand out. See the bottom waveform in the image at the beginning of this post. When the masking background is homogeneous noise, that means that sudden environmental noises stand out.
I realized that there is a household noise that Lewis is fine with that contains both a background hum/rumble, and occasional more sudden noises. That’s my dryer. See the top waveform in the first image. I’ve recommended in the past the “sports shoes in the dryer” trick (not original to me). I’ve never tried it with Lewis because I suspect it’s too close to his triggers. That could be a perfect solution for some dogs. But a regular load of clothes is perfect for Lewis. He hears it every two or three days without a problem. There is the homogeneous sound of the motor and the cyclical sounds of the drum rotating, and the occasional noise as a heavy piece of clothing makes a thump. In the waveform image above, those varying spikes on the top line represent the thumps and clunks.
My washer is pretty helpful, too. If I know that storms or fireworks are coming, I plan my laundry loads for those times as a bonus to the masking team.
But I can’t do laundry every time the scary noises come, not around here, where we have so many storms. And I don’t want to spend energy on unnecessary use. So now, when we get unexpected thunder, the first thing I do is throw some random clothing items into my dryer and turn it on to the air dry setting. But only for the time it takes to set up my little system. ThenI play long recordings I’ve already made of the dryer on my Bluetooth speaker that has a subwoofer.
It still makes me grin, hearing laundry sounds coming from the laundry room when the appliances aren’t on. And now my recordings are part of my plan for any loud noise event.
Making and Playing Your Own Recording
I’m not sharing my own recording for public use, since it will be a foreign sound to every dog who hasn’t lived in my household.
But you can make your own recording of a dryer or other appliance your dog is habituated to.
Use a smartphone app that can record and export in WAV or AIFF format if possible. But MP3 format is better than nothing.
Make a 20–30 minute recording when the rest of the house is quiet. If you are recording the dryer, make sure you have a load of various items in there.
After you’ve saved the file, if you have sound editing software, make the sound fade in so it isn’t sudden when you turn it on. Otherwise, you can always start it quietly with the volume control when you play it.
Play it back on a good speaker to make sure it doesn’t scare your dog. Start it at a distance and at a low level and gradually turn it up to an appropriate volume. Ideally, he won’t even pay attention to it.
If your dog is fine with it, set the sound file up on one of your devices so it can loop, or put multiple recordings on a playlist that can autoplay.
When playing the recording, use a speaker that includes low frequencies. Do not play it on your handheld’s internal speaker; they are notoriously bad at putting out low frequencies. Send the sound to a wireless speaker with a good bass. I use an old tablet to play the sound files because I don’t want the devices I use every day attached to the speaker. You can get some unpleasant surprises and scare your dog that way.
Here’s a link to the speaker I have. From the next room, it’s hard for me to tell the difference between the dryer itself and my recordings. And while Lewis probably can tell the difference, the recording doesn’t bother him and is a useful addition to the masking environment.
Sound Comparison
Here’s an auditory demo showing the difference between homogeneous brown noise and the dryer sound with its bumps and clunks. You’ll hear, in sequence: 1) brown noise; 2) my dryer recording; and 3) the two combined. Doubling or tripling up on masking sources is a great idea if your dog is OK with them all (separately and together).
Demo of brown noise, dryer noise, and the combination of the two
Lewis during a thunderstorm (with added tornado siren). Because of meds, he’s doing much better than he did during previous sound events
How Much Does Masking Help?
Masking is a management technique. It isn’t perfect, because there are no noises we can generate at home that can mask the loudest thunderclaps and booms of fireworks without being scary themselves. But masking can make the distant booms inaudible and moderate booms blend more into the background. On those lucky days when the storms don’t get close, masking can protect your dog effectively. And on the worse days, it can at least put a dent into the overall exposure.
For directly addressing our dogs’ fear, evidence suggests that medications, ad hoc counterconditioning, and relaxation training are our best tools (Riemer, 2020 & 2023).
Lewis performs a chin rest on my hand while I wear a plastic glove
If someone ever invents an overshadowing Bingo game, Lewis and I will win!
About Overshadowing
Sometimes a stimulus we try to classically condition has more than one aspect that can be sensed, like an object that can be both seen and smelled. This kind of stimulus is called a compound stimulus. The phenomenon of overshadowing may occur when compound stimuli are conditioned because one of the simple stimuli will likely prevent the other/s from being conditioned fully or at all.
I recently encountered a situation where potentially five different stimuli were “competing” to be classically conditioned. And of those five, the one most likely to “win” the conditioning was not the one that I needed the most. I had to tackle the problem, because it was in a training project that was important for Lewis’ wellbeing.
Oromucosal Medicine Administration
Lewis has been diagnosed with sound phobia to fireworks and thunderstorms, and one of his medications is to be delivered topically to his gum and cheek tissue.
The instructions for administering this medicine require that the human wear protective gloves so as not to touch the medicinal gel, which can be absorbed through, for example, a cut in the skin. Gloves are a new thing for Lewis.
I thought about whether I should use classical conditioning to help him have a positive response to the gloves and gathered up what I needed. I use disposable kitchen gloves for a lot of tasks, so that’s what I got out. Whoa! These gloves make a distinctive noisy rattle when touched or manipulated. You can’t even get them out of the box without the dog hearing them.
You probably see where this is going.
I wanted Lewis to have good feelings about the gloves. But what aspect of them? How many things are potentially different for a dog when you put a glove on your hand for a husbandry task, one that includes putting your finger in the dog’s mouth? How about:
the sight of the glove on the hand
the sound the glove makes
the feeling of being touched by a gloved hand
the odor of the glove
the taste of the glove
We’ve potentially got all five senses involved; the gloves present a compound stimulus.
Bingo?
How about another list? How many things about the gloves might bother Lewis? No need to repeat; it’s the same list. But knowing him, I would guess that having a gloved finger stuck in his mouth between his cheek and gums would bug him the most. But of all these, the sound often happens first, and is super salient. How can I classically condition the mouth touch without it being overshadowed by the crackle of the glove?
The Environment Would Like a Word
The plastic kitchen gloves I have are awful for the environment. I would make a different decision now. There is no perfect disposable glove yet, but latex is made from rubber and some latex gloves can be biodegradable. Reusable rubber gloves would be better than what I have, but they are too bulky for this job with this dog. Feel free to comment with suggestions.
Solutions to the Overshadowing Problem
So, how do I make sure that Lewis has positive feelings about being touched (in the mouth) by the gloves, given that classical conditioning is more likely to attach to the sound of them? Here are the possibilities I considered.
Different gloves: I’m sure some of you are internally screaming a solution. Get different gloves! Quieter ones! Good idea. I’ll be looking for a better choice. But in the meantime, I’ll proceed with what I have.
Workarounds: There are some things I could try to do about the sound. I could put on the gloves in a far part of the house and play masking sounds while I did that, just to be sure. Then I could approach Lewis and do whatever step of the plan comes next. Show him a gloved hand, treat. Or touch him with a gloved finger, treat. That could prevent some of the predictive power of rattling the gloves. But when I show him or touch him, the gloves will still make noise.
Use an operant training plan: This is the solution I chose. The gloves were not scary to Lewis; they were just new and weird. So rather than aiming for classical conditioning, I went for desensitization coupled with operant conditioning.
For our first session, I tossed him a couple of treats when I got the gloves out. Then I reinforced sniffing the glove, nose-targeting the glove while I held it loosely, and nose-targeting it while it was on my hand. Then I asked him to do a chin rest on a towel in my lap with the glove on top. Lewis said, “This is easy money!”
In the next sessions, I had the glove on my right hand and touched his cheek while I held his muzzle with my left. We had previously worked on this step without the glove.
The video includes excerpts from the three training sessions where we progressed from him accepting my finger in his mouth to accepting my gloved finger in his mouth. We spent six to seven minutes of training over three sessions, which was more time than he needed.
Watch with sound if you want to hear how noisy the gloves are (and hear me say, “Good boy!” about a thousand times).
The operant work with the gloves made them predictors of good things (classical conditioning rode along). This work gave Lewis a great foundation for the next step: putting a syringe between his cheek and gum while wearing gloves. The gloved finger was a good early substitute for the syringe.
Introducing the syringe on the outside of Lewis’ mouth
Compound Stimuli
Multiple simultaneous stimuli are happening all the time. When presenting an object, you can bet that most dogs will smell it as well as see it. Lots of visual stimuli make noises, too. As one textbook points out, it’s almost impossible to avoid multiple stimuli (Pierce & Cheney, 2008, p. 58). This experience has made me think about them a lot more. The Bingo game is not all that unusual. I’m pleased I figured out a way to win this time.
Thank you to the several professionals who provided materials and direct help for Lewis’ husbandry training. I could not have done it alone!
Copyright 2025 Eileen Anderson
References
Pierce, W. D., & Cheney, C. D. (2008). Behavior analysis and learning (4th ed.). Psychology Press.
