top of page


I confess that the back of my car is a jumble of leashes, collars, Kongs and Buster Cubes. There are liver treat remnants mashed into the fabric, bits of leaves that blew in last fall, and a spare mitten; not sure where the other one is. Papers, business cards, and an empty Dunkin Donuts cup float amongst the debris. It’s a certifiable disaster in there.

But the thing that most people notice if they peek inside is not the mess, thank goodness.

It’s Gozilla.

Godzilla is a fake Standard Dachshund, complete with collar, leash and a hint of attitude.

Neither as small as a Yorkie or as big as a Rottweiler, Godzilla is a substantial enough doggie presence to make my dog-reactive clients see RED.

Just standing blandly on a corner with Godzilla on leash by my side is indeed like the proverbial cape waving before an irritable bull.

My first goal with any reactive dog is to get him (or her) to walk past Godzilla without losing it.

Here’s an example of Godzilla at work:

1. Boxer mix Waylon, walking tensely at heel by his owner’s side, eyes darting, looking for squirrels, UPS trucks and potential snipers.

2. Godzilla waits patiently next to me.

3. Waylon spots Godzilla. Waylon freezes, ears erect, hair on his back forming a short Mohawk. His eyes narrow.

4. Godzilla is stoic and unmoving in the face of a potential adversary.

5. In the space of 2 seconds, Waylon has assessed the dire situation: “Hey! Where did this fool come from?! What the heck?! You’re in for it big time, mister. I’ve got my laser on you. You’re dead meat!”

6. Godzilla plays it cool.

7. Waylon puts it into gear, accelerates, and lunges toward the placid Godzilla.

8. Trainer (that would be me) says calmly “Okay, I think Waylon isn’t quite ready for Godzilla. Let’s go back to loose leash walking.”

9. I wedge Godzilla between the bins in the hatchback. He settles in for the next close encounter.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page