Our Four-legged Healers

Come forward into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.

—William Wordsworth

Abbie Jaye (“AJ” to her large network of loving friends) had just gone through five solid years of personal hell. Her beloved German shepherd–Lab mix, Scooby, had just passed away. Then her father and mother died, one shortly after the other. Desperately trying to have a baby with her husband, Charles, Abbie suffered a total of four miscarriages in a row—each one more heartbreaking than the last. If it’s true, as they say, that “God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle,” then He was certainly putting AJ to the test—a test that, for a while there, AJ was certain she was failing. “Imagine a punching bag,” she explained, pushing back the emotion. “When you punch it down, it comes back up. Well, I never had time to recover from one loss before I was hit again.”

The result of all these tragedies, one after the other, was that AJ began to suffer a psychological reaction to severe stress that is known as panic disorder. Everything you have just learned about how your dog experiences unreleased energy applies to all animals—especially humans. When people undergo the kind of traumas that AJ suffered and are not able to experience relief from all the grief, sadness, and frustration, that negative energy has to go somewhere. Panic attacks are one way in which negative energy is released. Over four million Americans—about 5 percent of the adult population—suffer from panic attacks, according to the National Institute of Mental Health. People who have undergone panic attacks describe them as devastating nightmares. They are both physical and emotional traumas—a sense of doom lying just around the corner, a feeling that they are about to have a heart attack, a sense that they are about to suffocate, or all of these feelings at once. Their hearts race hard and they hyperventilate, their arms and legs tingle and go numb, and they feel as if they are going crazy. Some people get dizzy and actually pass out. Before they are diagnosed, many panic attack victims end up in emergency rooms. The worst thing about panic attacks is that they don’t always come on for any obvious reason. Sufferers describe them as coming “out of the blue.” That leaves panic attack victims in a terrible, helpless, depressed place, even after the attack is over. They don’t know when or where another attack will strike them, and what will happen to them if it does.

AJ became one of the millions of people with panic attacks who so feared having unexpected spells in public that she began to withdraw to her home. This was devastating for AJ, because she had been an outgoing, active, energetic person before the attacks began. She had always played the caretaker role, not the role of the one needing care. In addition to her job as an activity director at a retirement home, AJ was constantly giving back to society as a volunteer; in fact, for fifteen years, she certified her dogs as therapy dogs and brought them to visit people in need.

Therapy dogs are pets trained to come into hospitals, retirement homes, nursing homes, mental institutions, and schools to provide love and comfort to patients and residents. Calm-submissive dogs can often help where humans can’t. When we see an ill person hooked up to a machine, we can’t help but feel sad or sorry for them. Dogs don’t see that. That’s why a lot of people in a hospital would rather have a visit from a therapy dog than from a human. Doctors and nurses are trained to be more impartial, but often their energy isn’t nurturing. They come using a purely intellectual energy. But a dog is always in an instinctual state of mind. If you bring a calm-submissive, balanced dog into a ward where people are suffering, the dog will immediately go after the weakest person in the room, get her into a better energy, and work the room until he brings everybody to that same state of mind. Research on the healing power of animals has only scratched the surface of the magical secrets of the human-animal bond. So far, it has shown that pets lower our blood pressure, triglycerides, and bad cholesterol levels. If you happen to have a heart attack, you have an eight times better chance of surviving one year if you own a dog. If you have surgery, you will recover much faster with animal therapy. Chemical testing has shown that within minutes of petting a dog, both human and animal alike release a flood of beneficial hormones such as prolactin, oxytocin, and phenyl ethylamine. Therapy dogs are now being used for improving focus and stimulating memory in Alzheimer’s and depression patients, aiding communication in those who have trouble with speech, such as psychiatric patients and stroke victims, and simply offering comfort and a sense of peace to those in stressful situations. AJ, Scooby, and her other dog, a three-year-old boxer-Lab mix named Ginger, had performed these tasks until Scooby’s death. Then a scrappy little one-year-old terrier named Sparky took over Scooby’s functions.

But Sparky turned out to have a special talent all his own. Both Abbie and her husband, Charles, noticed that when she was with Sparky, she had fewer panic attacks, and when she did have them, she recovered much faster. Sparky brought her a sense of peace and comfort that no medicine could; in fact, the parade of drugs that had been prescribed to help AJ with her panic attacks either caused terrible side effects or had no effect at all. Marty Becker, veterinarian and coauthor of the book Healing Power of Pets, has said, “I believe having a pet has all the benefits of an antidepressant drug, and more—but without a single side effect,” and that’s exactly the way AJ described Sparky. “If I could bottle what I feel when I’m with him and drop it over the Middle East, there would be peace. Because that’s what he gives me is a deep sense of peace and calm.”

It seemed clear to AJ that if she wanted her life back, she’d have to get Sparky certified as a service dog, which is a much bigger responsibility than simply being a therapy dog. We mostly think of service dogs as the guide dogs for the blind and the dogs that help people in wheelchairs. But service dogs are now trained to help kids with autism and other developmental disabilities, to become the “ears” for the deaf, to assist people with problems of balance, and even to remind those with chronic illnesses to take their medication on time! And there’s a whole new movement promoting psychiatric service dogs—dogs that help people with psychiatric disabilities. Psychiatric service dogs are trained to help people with psychiatric problems in such ways as snuggling with them when they’re feeling sad or hopeless, waking them up if they have “hypersomnia” or excessive sleeping, and reminding them to take their medication if they have problems with focusing or memory loss. Because, as we’ve seen, dogs are so completely tuned into our feelings, emotions, and even barely perceptible physical and chemical changes in our bodies and brains, they are much more intuitive than even the most expensive Park Avenue psychiatrist, and can sometimes act much faster than paramedics to save us in emergencies.

Sparky was already acting as Abbie’s guide and comforter. But in order for him to be able to be with her at all times, he’d have to be professionally certified as a service dog, so he could wear the special vest and have the “credentials” to go with her into stores and restaurants, on airplanes, and other public places. Sparky easily passed all the basic tests, such as answering to commands and riding in a car, but there was one area in which he really was a dismal failure. He was unpredictable in public situations, often becoming distracted by passing people, cars, or trucks, and worse, he could be aggressive to other dogs. Without passing this “public access test,” AJ wouldn’t be able to make use of the best medicine she had available to her—her dog. That’s when she called me in to help.

I had never seen a service or therapy dog before I came to America, and the minute I did, I was fascinated by them. It all made perfect sense to me. After all, since ancient times, the human race developed dog breeds to help us to survive. In today’s modern world, we often face more mental hurdles than we do physical ones, so why not employ dogs to help us overcome those burdens as well? Becoming service or therapy dogs are jobs that are open to dogs of any breed, as long as they have the right temperament for it. Some dogs—like Sparky—just naturally shine at the task. Giving a dog a job and an important task to accomplish is the best thing you can do for him. It’s in his genes to want to work for his food and water, and to feel like he has a mission in life. AJ and Sparky already had the kind of bond that many humans have to work a long time toward achieving with their therapy dogs. But could Sparky overcome his issues in order to make the grade?

My consultation with AJ and her husband was a very revealing one. I saw that AJ was a very, very strong person—a survivor—who had just hit the limit of her capacity for getting past traumatic events. What happened to her could happen to anyone—and it was clear by the tears in her eyes that Abbie was desperate to get over this obstacle and get on with her life. But although she was suffering from a very disabling psychiatric problem, I sensed a positive energy underneath. But that energy was being smothered by her fear, and with her being such a powerful person, that fear was becoming contagious to her husband and her two dogs. I wasn’t surprised at all when she told me that both Ginger and Sparky had problems with fearful aggression. They were getting it right from their owner!

I worked on reducing Sparky and Ginger’s aggression in the house, and from early in the session, I could see on AJ’s face that the lightbulb was beginning to go on. She immediately clued in to the fact that her own instability was being reflected in her dog’s behavior. This is a very important moment for my clients. Some people, like Danny or Warren, mentioned in previous chapters, never catch on to this vital concept. Sometimes, the most unlikely clients—the tycoon, for example—eventually get the message after I work with them for a long time. But AJ was catching on like wildfire. She is a person with a very quick mind, but she was also highly motivated. Unlike some people who seem to dwell on their misfortunes, AJ desperately wanted out of hers. The moment she began to see a possibility, she went barreling toward it. She said to me, “If only you could teach me to be calm and assertive, I wouldn’t have panic disorder or need a service dog.” I told her, “I’m not going to teach you how to be calm-assertive.” I pointed to Sparky. “He is.”

Calm-Assertive Healing

What I wanted Abbie to understand was the concept that the clearest way to see your own energy reflected back is to look at the behavior of the animals around you. My own pack keeps me a centered human being because they always show me who I am really being at that moment. If we can learn to read the energy of the animals around us, we all can become better human beings—and we can even heal some of our deepest wounds as well.

Earlier in the session, AJ had shared with me that she had a great fear of “dogs that are in the news”—Akitas, Rottweilers, German shepherds, and especially pit bulls. No wonder her dogs were afraid of strange dogs—they were picking it up from AJ! Well, she was in luck. For anyone who is afraid of pit bulls, I have the perfect cure, just waiting for them at the Dog Psychology Center. I immediately invited AJ and Sparky down to the center to meet the “pack.” At that time, there were forty-seven dogs there, including twelve pit bulls. I wanted AJ to meet them face-to-face. You see, I believe that the only way fear can leave any human or animal is if they can live through a worst-case scenario and conquer it. That is the way I learned to overcome my fear of flying—by getting on a plane and just experiencing my sensations. So far, no plane I have been on has crashed, so I have reinforced flying for myself as a neutral—if not exactly positive!—experience. Some people who share my same fear take tranquilizers or drink alcohol on flights to relax—then they wonder why their fear never goes away. That’s because they are simply avoiding the fear, not facing it. The more they use artificial substances to block their anxiety instead of letting themselves pass through it, the more they are reinforcing themselves to be afraid.

I also happen to believe—and have seen from hundreds of experiences with dogs—that many animals can overcome phobias by facing their own fears. That’s the way that I helped Kane the Great Dane in season one of Dog Whisperer overcome his fear of shiny floors. By using Kane’s own momentum to bring him onto the same shiny floor no power of man or beast had been able to get him on for a year, I simple waited with my calm-assertive energy as Kane became accustomed to this new situation. With me providing a feeling of leadership he could trust, his common sense was able to kick in, saying to him, “Hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of here!” In less than fifteen minutes, Kane was freed of an unnecessary phobia that had been causing him and his owners extreme stress for over a year. Today, four years later, he’s still 100 percent phobia free. Some psychologists and animal behaviorists refer to this as flooding, and some of my critics have attacked me for it. I asked my friend, psychologist Dr. Alice Clearman, to explain the way flooding works in the brain. She informed me that exposure is the current term for the practice, and that it is the best treatment for phobias in humans. She explained how it works:

Exposure is all about reinforcement in the brain. Whenever we engage in a habitual behavior in response to something we fear, we reinforce that fear. If we are afraid of spiders and back away from them, we reinforce that fear. Imagine a great fear of spiders. You see one in your bedroom. You run out of the bedroom and get someone else to kill it. Or you spray half a can of pesticide in your room. Or you call a pest control company. I’ve known one person who refused to sleep in her bedroom for three months after seeing a spider there!

The way it works is that they become more and more anxious as they approach the feared object or situation. In the case of spiders, if I’m afraid of them and I have to kill one, I become more and more afraid as I approach it. Maybe I have a shoe in my hand, poised to smash the creature. My heart is pounding, my pulse is racing, I’m almost hyperventilating. I’m terrified! I get closer and closer, sweating bullets. I suddenly decide that I can’t handle it! I turn heel and flee from the room, calling my neighbor and asking her to come over and kill the thing. The moment I run away, how am I feeling? Relieved! My pulse slows and my breathing returns to normal. I wipe my brow with a shaking hand.

Whew! That was close!

Look at what I did to my brain. I had increasing anxiety as

I drew closer and closer to the spider. Then I decided I couldn’t do it. I fled the scene and I had an enormous sense of relief.

That relief—that feeling—was a reward. I rewarded myself for fleeing from the spider. I’ve taught myself, quite literally my brain, that spiders are indeed very dangerous creatures. I know this because of the feeling of relief I had when I left. The result is that I actually increase my fear. I have made myself a little bit more afraid of spiders every time I exit.

The difference between dogs and humans when it comes to phobias, says Dr. Clearman, is that humans attach thought, imagination, memory, and anticipation to their fears. Dogs do not do these things; they live in the moment, giving them a huge advantage over us in overcoming fears and phobias. But for humans, even with our complexities of thought and memory, the best treatment is still exposure. Dr. Clearman tells me that the treatment for spider phobias is to have the client have a spider on his skin until he is no longer afraid. The fearful person starts by talking with a therapist who can assess the degree of fear, but the treatment is always the same. It can be done in short stints over a longer period of time, or in just one session. Exposure has been used by psychologists for about thirty years. Dr. Clearman explained that the mountains of research that have been done on it continue to prove it is very, very effective.

A powerful benefit of exposure is that it is quick. With humans and dogs alike, exposure eliminates the phobia in a very short period of time. What’s the harm in letting someone just live with a phobia for the rest of her life? Plenty. Phobias produce stress hormones that shorten our lives by damaging our hearts, brains, and immune systems. Dogs are harmed by these hormones in the same way that we are. Helping eliminate these stresses quickly is the best thing we can do for anxious or fearful dogs. Some critics say that my use of exposure is “cruel.” Of course, if a terrifying experience is suddenly forced onto a person or animal without a knowledgeable guide (a therapist or experienced animal professional) or helper, it can do more harm than good. But with the right information and calm-assertive energy, helping dogs eliminate phobias gives them the opportunity to relax and have a better quality of life. If you know you can stop the experience of fear or anxiety swiftly and safely, the kindest thing to do for anyone you love is to do exactly that. Why would anyone drag out the suffering? In my opinion, it’s best to eliminate it quickly.

Another benefit of exposure is something Dr. Clearman calls “self-efficacy”—that is, feeling effective in your own life. It is important for both humans and dogs to have confidence and self-esteem. When they overcome a phobia, they are greatly empowered. This affects other areas of their lives and they feel stronger, more comfortable, and happier. This is what I wanted to help accomplish for AJ, by exposing her to my pack of pit bulls. I hoped for her not only to overcome her phobia of big powerful dogs, but to help her feel more empowered as a pack leader with Sparky—and in the rest of her life, where she desperately needed it. AJ’s life at that moment was like a file cabinet with two drawers, except the drawer full of bad experiences was overflowing, while the other drawer for good experiences was nearly empty. It was my goal to help her fill up that side of the file cabinet. And my pack was going to help me.

The Mouth of the Crocodile

When AJ came to the center, I gave her the usual rules: no touch, no talk, no eye contact. I could see that she was hesitant, but she was definitely curious, and she had a very positive attitude. What was really remarkable was the moment I opened the gate, one of my pit bulls, Popeye, came running out to welcome her. AJ was afraid of pit bulls, yet it was Popeye who came out as the ambassador to invite her into the pack. Immediately I saw her anxiety begin to drain away. It was like there was an immediate bond between her and Popeye. Already, she was feeling the healing power of dogs.

AJ walked among the forty-seven dogs and was remarkably calm. She described it as an “out-of-body experience.” I think she really couldn’t get over the fact that she was actually doing it! She went out into the dirt park with me and threw the tennis ball for the dogs. With every moment, she grew more and more confident. In fact, I felt she was feeling strong enough for me to invite several pits into an enclosed area with us and give her a private “pit bull party.” This was a little harder for her to do, but she trusted me and followed my lead. I let her see what happens when the pits have a conflict among one another—and how I stop the excitement before it escalates. And I showed her how to wait until a dog’s mind is relaxed before sharing affection. This, of course, encourages a dog to relax. What was beautiful was that Popeye lay down in front of us and stayed close by AJ, almost guarding her. And nearby, Sparky watched the whole event unfold. By watching AJ’s discomfort with the big dogs dissolve, Sparky’s own dog aggression could take a step toward being cured.

A really important moment came when AJ and I took a walk through the neighborhood of the Dog Psychology Center, which is an industrial area filled with warehouses and a lot of off-leash dogs. Near a used car lot, we came across a pregnant female Lab mix, who started to bark at us aggressively. AJ remained calm throughout the encounter, so Sparky did also. Another lightbulb went off for AJ—it was a moment of hard evidence that indeed she was Sparky’s energy source! I showed AJ how to hold her ground, remain calm and assertive, and just repeat in her inner dialogue, “I mean you no harm, but this is my space.” I challenged her to take a step forward toward the aggressive dog, and AJ watched the aggressive dog walk away in submission. “That’s it,” I said. “You won.” Abbie was elated. She was about to win a whole lot more.

About two weeks later, I invited AJ and her husband, Charles, to bring Sparky and Ginger back to the center. This visit would be about strengthening the whole pack, but it would also be about making sure AJ cemented her learning from the first visit. It was amazing to see the change in AJ. Her eyes were brighter, she was walking taller, and I could tell she just couldn’t wait to get inside with all the dogs again! To test what she had learned, I asked her to share with Charles the same rules I had first given her during the earlier visit. She confidently launched into the “No touch, no talk, no eye contact” rules as if she’d been coming there a thousand times. Professional educators know that whenever a person shares her knowledge or teaches a skill to someone new, she strengthens her own learning of the material. Simply teaching Charles all the things she had learned two weeks before gave AJ another boost of confidence.

Inside the center, AJ was calm and assertive at least 90 percent of the time. Her body postures and facial muscles were relaxed, and when she walked, her shoulders were up and her eyes remained focused rather than darting around scanning for danger on the ground. When one of the pits jumped up on her, she calmly and assertively asked him to get down, and instantly he sat in front of her, calm-submissive. Each time she accomplished a new skill with the dogs, her confidence grew. As she left the center that day, she told our director thoughtfully, “If I do what Cesar says all the time, if I’m able to do that, I not only won’t have panic attacks, but I won’t need a service dog in the first place.”

As it turns out, Sparky needed a lot less rehabilitation than AJ did. When he passed his service test with flying colors, I was so excited, I couldn’t stop jumping up and down and cheering. I felt like we’d won the Academy Award. AJ presented me with a drawing she’d done of Popeye, her friend from the center who first changed her mind about pit bulls. But the real success story of this case wasn’t Sparky, it was AJ. Learning to master calm-assertive energy with dogs—and especially with pits!—set her on a path to self-discovery that just keeps growing and growing. She went back to work as an organic raw chef and started volunteering as a teacher for the blind at the Braille Institute. And her panic disorder continues to improve at the same time. She says,

Cesar helped me to realize that if I don’t start facing my fears, they will consume me. Not facing one’s fears does not make them go away. Facing them actually can. Working with Cesar has really helped me change my fearful energy into a more assertive energy. I still get afraid—very afraid, at times—but now I am willing, as they say, to “feel the fear and do it anyway.” With panic disorder one has a tendency not to fight or flee—simply to freeze. I have now become a fighter and I really have Cesar to thank for that.

The truth is, AJ taught me a lesson as valuable as the one I gave to her. I admitted to her that while I would never give up on dogs, I would sometimes give up on people and their ability to change. AJ had a very real, very serious affliction that some people suffer from all their lives. But because she had such a positive attitude, and such determination, she wasn’t going to give up on herself. AJ taught me to never give up on people. And when people have dogs in their lives as teachers, there are no limits to how far they can grow.

The story of AJ and Sparky is a beautiful lesson about the healing power of dogs—and also about how mastering calm-assertive leadership can create amazing changes in all areas of our lives. The wonderful thing about our dogs is that they can often motivate us to change when nothing else can.

If a dog could choose which human he was able to live with, he would not put an ad in the personals that said “Seeking One Dog Lover for Affection, Affection, Affection!” That’s because a dog lover doesn’t create balance. A dog lover can create instability. In Cesar’s Way, I told the story of Emily the pit bull. Born with a heart-shaped spot on her back, she was loved and adored from the moment her owner, Jessica, adopted her. Jessica showered her with affection every day. But Emily became a very vicious little girl. If a dog has to live with a human, she would choose a knowledgeable dog owner over simply a dog lover.

Most animals, if given the choice, would rather live among their own kind than with beings of another species. An animal that can’t relate to his own kind is living in limbo, like a man without a country. Remember Keiko the killer whale from the movie Free Willy? Raised in captivity, trained, and loved by his handlers, he was set free again and again, but couldn’t relate to the killer whales in the wild. He tried to, but they just wouldn’t accept him. He didn’t have the social skills, and humans couldn’t teach him. Sadly, Keiko died never having known what it felt like just to be a killer whale, never having felt proud of himself for being a killer whale. I believe the same thing goes for dogs. I think they find themselves complete only when they can interact and relate to their own kind. Can they adapt themselves to live with a different species? Absolutely; it’s part of our greater survival mechanism that animals can coexist with other animals, as long as we’re not being attacked. But would a dog rather be a dog than a human? Back on my grandfather’s farm in Mexico, we had “goat dogs” for herding goats. In order to become working dogs, they were weaned at an early age and the goat mother would raise the dog, so the dog would become part of her herd. But eventually, as the dog developed, he would no longer engage in goat behaviors; he’d behave in more doglike ways. Now, the goats are his pack—as far as he’s concerned, a goat raised him; that’s his family. But he’d still do dog activities. Eventually he would meet other dogs, find a mate, and detach himself from his goat family. He’d still spend his days with the goat herd—but it now would become a job to him, not his whole identity. He’d feel good about himself—good about being a dog.

Honoring Our Inner Human

In a way, the story of the goat-herding dog is a metaphor for my own life. When I was a boy in Mexico, I couldn’t identify with people. I felt different from them. Instead of trying to find closeness, I gravitated toward dogs. I felt free with them, I wasn’t judged by them, and I could become a very important part of their group. This became part of my identity, and I became extremely antisocial. I stopped trusting people. I shut them out. I totally gave up on them. For a long time, I lived this way, pouring all of my emotional, spiritual, and instinctual energies into dogs. I figured that was just my fate. The truth was, I was feeling rejected by people, but I really was rejecting myself. You can’t turn your back on your own kind without in some way turning on yourself. You blame others for your misery, and you never look in the mirror. Things never change—you just exist. You may feel okay, but you are not growing.

Then I met my wife Ilusion. She is a very emotionally open person, despite the fact that she has suffered a lot from human beings all through her life. She never stopped loving humans and trying to see the best qualities in them. My wife turned on the lights for me. She reminded me how important it is to have relationships with humans. It was then that I realized I was not complete. The way I was living had become a habit, a way of existence, but in the back of my mind, I never felt totally whole or happy to be who I was.

I was like Mowgli, the wild boy in Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book. I remained in love with and devoted to my dogs, but in the end, I had to find a balance between my dogs and my own “pack”—my human family. If I hadn’t accomplished that, I’d never be able to do the work I do today. As a boy, I dreamed of working with dogs as a way to get away from humans. Today, I help rehabilitate dogs, but the bulk of my efforts goes into “training” humans.

We all want unconditional love in our lives, but too often, we give up doing the hard work it takes to earn it among our own kind. Instead, we adopt animals and expect them to do it for us. Animals do have the capability to accept us for who we are, and I think everyone in the world should accomplish loving an animal—it makes us better humans and brings us closer to nature. But when we only think about our needs, it becomes a selfish way of having a relationship with someone. We feel that we have finally found somebody, our animal soul mate—and it is a wonderful therapy, an amazing opportunity to experience the feeling of someone loving us simply for ourselves. And that’s a good first step. But that’s still not the end of the journey, of finding our identity within our own species—connecting with the person or the “pack” of people who will also accept us for who we are in the way that only other humans can. We can’t do this by blaming others for our failures. We need to look at our own mirrors and honestly face our fears.

When it comes to our dogs, our mission should be to fulfill their needs first. The most therapeutic thing, the most empowering thing you can do in your life is to fulfill another living being’s needs. If you can watch your dog go from an insecure, anxious, and aggressive dog to a balanced, peaceful dog, that is an amazing kind of therapy. It builds your leadership; it builds your self-esteem. When you focus on what’s best for animals, then you automatically get the benefit of learning from their balance, their natural way of living. They want very simple things from life—but for them, that has the same meaning as three billion dollars would to my friend the tycoon.

If you can accomplish calm-assertive energy and leadership with your dog, you can accomplish it in any other area of your life. Let your dog be your trusting follower, your mirror—and ultimately, your guide, on your journey to becoming the very best person you can be.

Millan, Cesar, Peltier, Melissa Jo