Training Philosophy

The Three Things That Matter More Than Technique

Ian Dunbar says he's not a great dog trainer. His wife is better. He has fewer technical skills than most professionals he knows. But he has three qualities that compensate for all of it — and they're the same three qualities that separate trainers who get results from trainers who get frustrated.

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Watch: Trainer Mindset — Ian Dunbar

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Objectivity

Stop explaining why your dog did what they did. "He was attacked once when he was young." "She's not feeling well today." "He doesn't like men." These stories feel true, and some of them might be — but they don't help you train. What helps is recording what the dog actually did, setting a baseline, and improving from there. Training is always improving. Excuses are where improvement stops.

When your dog lunges at another dog, the useful response isn't "he's reactive because of his history." It's "he lunged at a dog 15 feet away — tomorrow we'll work at 20 feet." One is a narrative. The other is a training plan.

Confidence

Your dog will make you look foolish. Often. In public. In front of people you want to impress. The question is whether that embarrassment stops you from training or whether you keep going.

At a protection dog workshop in Belgium — 30 male trainers, all Malinois and Shepherds, all watching — Dunbar stood still waiting for a demo dog to sit. For 11 minutes, the dog wrapped the leash around him, jumped on him, knocked off his pocket, chewed treats out of his coat, barked, circled, and backed away. The audience sat in silence. Then the dog sat. Dunbar said "good dog," gave a treat, and took one step. Two minutes later, another sit. One minute after that, another. Within 15 minutes, the craziest dog in the room was heeling.

The technique was nothing special — stand still, wait for a sit, reward, step. The confidence to stand there for 11 minutes looking like an idiot while 30 professionals watched? That's what most trainers don't have.

Persistence

Every dog has a distance at which their owner gives up. Half a yard off course, you can recover. Two yards, it's harder. Five yards, most people start getting frustrated. At 120 yards, nearly everyone quits. And the dog learns exactly where that line is. Once a dog knows you have a quitting point, they'll use it — not out of spite, but because it works. The dog who bolts and runs just far enough that you stop chasing has trained you, not the other way around.

The fix isn't technique. It's deciding that you don't have a quitting point. You don't need to be fast, skilled, or clever. You need to be the person who never stops. The dog will eventually offer the behavior you want — because you're still there, calmly waiting, when every other trainer would have walked away.

You don't need to be the most skilled trainer in the room. You need to be the one who doesn't make excuses, doesn't get embarrassed, and doesn't stop.