Camping With Your Dog

Camping With Your Dog

Now that the leaves have turned, the bugs are gone, and the temperature is cooling, we’re all itching to get the dog, grab the tent and head up to the mountains! Camping with your dog is tons of fun and full of adventure. Many of the same skills that our dogs need to be successful while living in our homes also apply to camping, with the added difficulty of being out in an exciting environment with extra distractions and fewer management options than we have at our disposal in our homes. Below you will find tips to set your dog up for success as you enjoy all that nature has to offer this fall. 

Teach a stationary “Settle” behavior! This behavior is useful in many different contexts, but especially in a camping setting. Having a reliable “Settle” cue helps to keep your dog out of the way of the camp stove while you’re cooking dinner, settle next to the fire, and gives them a clear spot to be in the tent while you get ready for bed at the end of the night. Check out this video playlist for instructions on how to get started on this skill with your dog! Remember to start in an easy environment and build up the difficulty from there.

Practice sleeping outside ahead of your first full camping trip. For dogs that are used to sleeping inside quiet houses, we have to remember that transitioning to sleeping outdoors in a tent or camper can come with a lot of extra little noises and smells. If you have the option to do so, try a test run close to home for your dog’s first outdoor sleeping experience. Make sure your dog has had plenty of exercise and is ready for bed before getting into the tent. When it’s time to get into the tent together, provide a designated sleeping space that is similar to where they might sleep inside your home (this is where you settle training comes in!). You may not always need to bring their big cushy dog bed along for your camping adventures, but especially for their first tent experience, we want to help them clearly understand that sleeping is the primary activity when inside the tent.

Teach your dog that people appearing suddenly is a cue to check in with you. Whether you are camping in a dispersed area or a busy campground, it’s important for your dog to calmly accept people and other dogs walking past your campsite. A barking dog can be an unpleasant surprise to anyone walking past, as well as yourself! With a little bit of proactive practice, you can help your dog be prepared for sudden visitors by teaching them that these are good experiences for them! Start by teaching your dog that when something happens in their environment, it is an opportunity to come and get a treat from you. Start this in an environment like the far end of a grocery store parking lot with your dog on-leash. When your dog sees someone walk into their field of view, give them a treat. Repeat this until your dog assumes that someone appearing suddenly is usually an opportunity to get something good from you! Then you can take this on the road and practice on hikes, at campsites, or any other environment you might find yourself in. Gradually build up the difficulty so that even if your dog is startled by a surprise hiker on an otherwise deserted backcountry campsite, they’re ready to reconnect with you quickly!

Ready to continue learning about camping with your dog? Click here for our Camping with Dogs Webinar! This webinar is taught by dog behavior and training experts who regularly camp with their dogs, and have coached many other teams to camping success. If you want additional support for you and your dog, we offer in-person Group Classes and Private Lessons in Fort Collins, Colorado, and virtual coaching right in the comfort of your home. 

Weekend Adventures & Helicopter Dog-Parenting

This weekend we escaped to the mountains for a few days, trading in the 95+ degree days that Fort Collins experienced for cool mountain breezes and remnants of snow.  Of course, the dog came along, as did our adventurous friends Charissa and Tyler and their two pups, Dylon and Chip. 

We set off Friday night after work, drove two hours all the way through Rocky Mountain National Park, found our destination trail head, grabbed our packs and three leashes and hit the trail.  The plan was to hike 5.5 miles to a lake that first night . . . but as adventures are prone to do, it didn’t work out exactly the way we had intended.  

Eventually we were wandering around in the dark on a service road looking for the next part of the trail.  Definitely a great thing to do past 11:00 PM when we’re worn out, starting to get cold, and the dogs have just scared us half to death with an inquisitive incident too close to a gushing river culvert for comfort. 

We give up the search for the trail and find a campsite. Not perfect, but serviceable for the night.  Thank you, to whatever organization owned the dump truck and backhoe that provided us shelter from the wind and a barrier in case of early morning travelers on the service road.

Crazy kids.

The next day we continued the search for the trail, and finally decided that it was obscured by the rushing river and with three pups it would not be safe to attempt a crossing.  An alternate plan was decided on, and we made a camp, in a beautiful spot directly under the continental divide. 

The dogs romped in the swamp and streams, we sat in the sun and played cards, we all took naps in the middle of the day (can’t remember the last time I’ve gotten to do that!), and generally rested and enjoyed being out in the fresh air.  It wasn’t the 20 mile hiking loop that we had planned.  But this was perfect.

Being trail dogs is rough sometimes.

On the way back to the trail head the next day, Roo and Dylon enjoyed some off-leash scurries through the woods and brambles along the trail.  After a while, Roo started to venture further from the path to the right - in the direction of the river (and the very steep embankments leading down to it).  At this point, I started feeling a little bit like a helicopter parent: constantly worried about where he was, nagging, continuously asking him to check in with me. . . none of which thrilled him very much, and it wasn’t very relaxing and peaceful for me either!  Eventually I just put him back on leash for a bit so that I wasn’t constantly fussing with him.

Reflecting on this after our trip concluded, I have connected a few dots about this situation that have shed some light (although not excused) my downslide from relaxed off-leash moderator into overbearing dog-mom.  And I thought, “If I’m seeing this response in myself so easily, when I generally trust my dog off-leash and know the disadvantages of constantly fussing without a good reason, how easy it is for my clients to default to this type of communication with their dogs?”  

As far as I can tell, my micromanagement of my dog in this situation boils down to the emotion of fear, residual from the near-mishap that occurred in the dark on Friday night.  The horrifying images and feelings that come to mind when thinking of the “what-ifs” of that scenario are still uncomfortable, almost a week later, so it makes sense that not quite 2 days post-incident my brain would still be especially prone to anxious or fearful responses connected to some of the same stimuli.

This has been a helpful thing for me to remember, and recognize how it so easily infiltrated my attitude when interacting with my pup.  Without addressing the underlying emotions of anxiety and fear that we have with our dogs (in whatever scenario, due to whatever history), these emotions will have a significant impact on how we communicate, to the point of undermining our training goals. 

I am doing more thinking and researching on the impacts of emotions (good and bad) on our communication style, and how this can affect our experiences with our dogs, and plan to write more about this topic soon.  But in the mean time, I want to leave you with a challenge: if you find yourself being a “helicopter dog-parent,” look at the scenario.  What underlying feelings are causing you to feel the need to control every step your dog makes?  These feelings could be completely legitimate (“my dog is too friendly with kids and we’re walking by a playground and I’m scared he’ll jump up”), and I’m certainly not telling you to turn your dog loose without a second thought.  But just think about it.  You might just realize, like I did, that your anxiety is residual from a previous scenario and not directly because of the situation at hand.   

Good boy, Roo.