Excessive barking
At the window, at the doorbell, at the neighbours, when he's left alone. A dog always barks for a reason, and the plan starts with finding it.
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One page for each problem: why it happens, what does not work, the step-by-step plan and the moment to ask for help. No punishment, no miracle recipes.
At the window, at the doorbell, at the neighbours, when he's left alone. A dog always barks for a reason, and the plan starts with finding it.
Claws on the belly at midnight, paws licked red, an ear infection every summer. Behind the word "allergy" sit at least three diseases, each with its own plan.
He howls from the first minute and only goes quiet when you walk back in. That is panic, and panic is worked in seconds at first, not in hours of 'getting used to it'.
Needle teeth, torn sleeves, crying children. Play biting is normal in a puppy and it passes, but not by itself: you teach him how hard he is allowed to bite.
A puddle on the carpet at five in the morning, or three days of soft stool with mucus. Two different problems, and neither one gets solved from your medicine cabinet.
White foam on the floor, yellow bile on an empty stomach, or four bouts overnight and a chin on the floor. Not equally serious, and none is treated from the cupboard.
Head shaking, scratching until he yelps, a yeasty smell. The ear is where it shows, the cause is usually elsewhere, and last time's drops will not find it.
Arm at full stretch, aching shoulder, dog panting with his tongue out. Pulling on the lead is the most practised habit of all, because it works for him every single time.
A growl by the bed, a hand grabbed "out of nowhere". The dog tells you something every time before he bites, and the cause can nearly always be found if you know where to look.
One dog grazes calmly in the park, another gulps long blades and is sick on the carpet. Those are two different behaviours, and each one gets a different answer.
His own poo, other dogs' in the park, or the cat's litter tray. It embarrasses you, it is normal to him, and it is fixed more by organisation than by training.
You call him five times in the park and he looks at you like a stranger. Recall is built at home, with plenty of fun, long before you need it.
You walk in and his paws are on your chest before the door has shut. Jumping up is a greeting, and he keeps doing it because it has worked every single time.
He hides under the table at every doorbell or trembles at lorries. Exposed "to get used to it", he got worse. Confidence comes from distance and his own choice.
He sees a dog 50 metres away and explodes: barking, lunging, deaf to you. Off lead in the park he's a different dog. Reactivity is worked on from a distance, over weeks.
You take him out, he stands in the grass for ten minutes, you come in and he goes on the rug. House-training takes set times and a real fuss when he gets it right.
Half a bar of dark chocolate missing, the grape stalk bare, the sock gone. Gather the wrapper, work out how much he ate and call. Do not make him sick yourself.
The wet slurping every evening, rusty paws, a bald patch on the wrist. Licking is a symptom, and "he's bored" is the diagnosis that comes last, not first.
A hard bead with legs on his neck after the woods, or black specks on the sofa that turn red when wet. Both can be sorted out, and neither with oil or garlic.
A chewed door frame, a gutted cushion, the third charger this month. He isn't getting back at you. Film the first hour and you'll see if it's boredom or panic.
He shakes at fireworks, in the cold, with excitement before a walk. Or he shakes, drools, goes floppy and found the chocolate. A thirty-second video tells them apart.
A paw on tiptoe after training, slow to get up in the morning, a leg held in the air. Three levels of urgency, and none of them is fixed with a pill from your cupboard.
Up in two stages, refusing the stairs, bunny-hopping at a run. Joint pain shows in what the dog stops doing, long before he whimpers.
Something soft under the skin, a pink button on the eyelid, a swelling that has grown since Easter. You cannot identify any of them by touch. The needle can.
A brown crust on the back teeth, a red line along the gum, breath you smell from across the sofa. Lift the lip to see the mouth; under the gum, only the vet sees.
Shaking under the desk, panting, refusing food. On the night you help him through it; the fear itself you work on during the rest of the year, and it does improve.
He sniffed the bowl and walked off, twice running, yet he's drinking and wagging. With a bright adult you can wait a day. With a puppy or an old dog, you can't.
You can no longer feel his ribs, the waist has gone, he pants after three flights of stairs. Fat creeps on and hides up close, but your hands find it in two minutes.
A goose-honk cough a week after kennels, a night-time cough in an old dog, bursts of sneezing after a field walk. Three sounds, three directions, one first step: film it.
A red eye, watering, brown gunk in the morning, one eye held shut. Conjunctivitis is the word that springs to mind; often it is something else, and eyes do not wait.
Rotten fish on the cushion, a doggy smell two days after a bath, a pug scooting across the carpet. The smell has about six possible sources and each needs its own fix.
He plonks himself down and drags across the carpet, licks under his tail, leaves a fishy smell. Most often it's the anal glands, but not always.
A pot-bellied puppy, rice-like segments by the tail, soft stools for no clear reason. Intestinal worms are common, easy to treat and kept at bay with a schedule.
He freezes over the bowl, eats faster as you approach, growls over his bone. Resource guarding is natural behaviour that has become a problem, and you fix it by trading.
He howls after every ambulance or whines from morning to night. The causes differ, but the plan starts the same way: find out what he's trying to tell you.
Out in the road five minutes after you go inside. Running off is a safety problem first and a behaviour problem second, and you deal with them in that order.
Bulbs dug up one by one, a hole by the fence, a hole in the shade. Each has a different cause, and the hole tells you which if you look at it properly.
He launches at the cyclist, runs the fence after cars, vanishes after cats. The chase is its own reward, which is why it never fades on its own.
He went over on his side, paddled his legs, drooled, then got up dazed. What to do next time, what to film and how you get to a diagnosis.
He asks to go out every hour, squats and passes a little, sometimes pink. Cystitis is the obvious guess, but stones and the prostate look the same at first.
Tufts on the sofa are one thing. Round patches, bald flanks or a dog scratching himself raw are something else. Here is how to tell them apart.
Drooling in the car park, sick at the third bend, refusing to get in. Car sickness lives partly in the inner ear and partly in the head, and you work on both.
His first night away from his mother and littermates, alone in the dark in a box. Crying is normal; how you respond in the first few nights decides how long it lasts.
They got on for a year and now they kick off at the door or on the sofa. People call it jealousy; we see a squabble over what they value, and often that is you.
A visitor's leg, a sofa cushion, a puppy in the park. It is rarely sexual and almost never dominance; nearly always it is excitement looking for a way out.
He paces at night, stands with his nose in a corner, waits at the wrong side of the door, wees indoors. Some of it is age. Some of it can be treated.
Panting with a wide tongue, looking for shade, wobbling, then lying down. Cool him first with cold water, travel second, and do not stop at "he seems better".
Shaking in the waiting room, growling at the nail clippers, hiding from the brush. Fear of handling can be learned from a single experience and unlearned in small steps.
In a puppy it is a few seconds of play. In an adult who spins until he falls over or chews his tail raw it is something else, and it starts with a vet visit.
Chewing, barking, racing round the house at ten at night and still not tired. A dog like that tires through his head, and you see the change within days.
Ten boxes on the shelf, all promising gut flora and immunity. Probiotics help dogs in a few clear situations, but they never stand in for a vet visit.
Gummy eyes, a thick runny nose, a cough and a fever in a puppy with no vaccination card. Distemper looks like a cold at first, but it will not clear up on its own.
Crusted ear edges, bare elbows, nights of scratching. Or round bald patches round the eyes of a puppy who never scratches. One name, two diseases.
The "one dog year, seven human years" rule is wrong at both ends. A dog's real age depends on his size, and each stage of his life asks something different of you.
A stamp with no date on the record card, a seven-week-old puppy, a rescue dog with no paperwork. The schedule is simple once you know what was done and when.
If he backed away and scraped the muzzle along the carpet the first time, nobody has shown him yet that it can bring good things. Two or three weeks is usually enough.
He no longer manages the stairs, eats only from your hand, pants at night. You choose the moment with your own vet, with a calendar of good and bad days in hand.
For three weeks you see nothing, then everything moves fast. Pregnancy in a bitch lasts about nine weeks, and it's your vet who confirms it, not her belly.
A flat puppy who turns down his food and vomits. With parvovirus the hours matter: treatment started early saves most puppies.
The wound gets 15 minutes under running water with soap, and the doctor decides the rest. Then you turn to the dog: why he bit and what changes at home.
He came out of the bush chewing and now he is drooling and shaking. Bag the bait, ring the vet on the move, and do not try to make him sick yourself.
A fox that will not run, a strange dog that bites you, a record with a lapsed vaccine. With rabies you never wait and see: prevent it, and after a bite act that same day.
Soft stools that come and go, pale, sharp-smelling, in a puppy who is otherwise bright. Giardia is common in young dogs and settles into a home if you let it.
The passport takes a day, but the rabies vaccination needs three weeks before it counts for travel. The order you do things in matters.
She is drinking for two, licking under her tail and finished her season a few weeks ago. Pyometra is an emergency, even when you can see no discharge at all.
The chip is the size of a grain of rice and has no GPS. It only gets a lost dog home if its number leads, on the database, to the phone you use today.
Repeated vomiting, a sore belly and the praying position, usually after a fatty meal. Pancreatitis needs a vet today, not weak tea and fasting.
The holiday is booked and your dog has never slept a night without you. Choose the place to suit the dog, visit it and do a trial night a few weeks before.
The plate of chicken bones cleared off the table, the stockpot bone given "as usual", the cracked tooth after a smoked bone. What to watch for and when to ring.
A bluish sheen in the eye, a halt at the top of the stairs, a pearly spot in the pupil. Not every cloudy eye is a cataract, and not every cataract ends in blindness.
A shiny red lump in the corner of the eye, there overnight in a young dog. Not a middle-of-the-night emergency, but not something to leave for months either.
A week of rain, a puddle, then a flat dog who won't stop drinking. Leptospirosis starts out like a tummy upset, goes for the kidneys and spreads to people.
Runs with his back legs together, is stiff getting up in the morning, sits crooked. Dysplasia is inherited, but weight and the right exercise change a lot.
He hunches, strains and nothing comes out. Usually it's a bone or too little water. Sometimes it's a blockage, the prostate or even the bladder, and then you don't wait.
A round bald patch on the muzzle, then one on a leg, then a red ring on your child's arm. Ringworm is treatable, but with tests and patience, not any old cream.
Tiny cauliflowers on a puppy's lip, a new bead on an old dog's back. Most warts are harmless, but not everything that looks like a wart actually is one.
Hot ears, a warm dry nose, a dog who will not get up for his walk. The nose tells you nothing. A thermometer tells you everything in under a minute.
Drinking like he has run a marathon, accidents indoors, panting at rest, a dropped belly. It may be more than old age: that combination has a name and can be treated.
Ten days ago he was in long grass. Today he will not get up or eat, and his urine is the colour of strong tea. Babesiosis does not wait for morning, and neither should you.
White flakes in the coat, often in winter or after a bath. Sometimes it is only dry skin. Sometimes it is the first sign you see of a parasite or an illness.
Drops of blood on the floor, male dogs at the gate, a restless bitch. The season itself is normal; the two months that follow are what you need to watch.
He drinks more, wees more and slowly loses weight. Chronic kidney disease shows late, acute failure is an emergency measured in hours. Tests reveal both.
Tick, tick, tick on the tiles, and the dog dives under the bed when he sees the clippers. Nail trimming can be taught without a fight, one nail a day.
The bowl filled three times a day, requests to go out at two in the morning, a puddle in the hall. Sometimes it is just summer. Sometimes it is the first sign of illness.
Red streaks on the stool, diarrhoea like raspberry syrup, or a black shiny stool. All of it gets called blood in the stool, but only one can be watched at home for a day.
He slept all evening, the room is cool, and now he is panting by the bed. One minute spent counting his sleeping breaths tells you more than any search.
A positive test in a dog who seems perfectly well, a cough after walks, a lump under the skin. Heartworm arrives with mosquitoes and stays hidden for years.
A pea-sized lump near the back teats that does not seem to bother her. The smaller it is when it reaches the vet, the better her outlook.
Small rhythmic jerks after a meal, a hic you can barely hear. In puppies hiccups are normal and pass by themselves; in adults, time them and look at the rest of the dog.
The neighbour says before her first season, the breeder says in a year. The right timing depends on the dog, and recovery has clear rules worth knowing in advance.
The whites of his eyes have gone yellow, his gums look lemony, his urine is like strong tea. Jaundice is a sign, not a disease, and needs a vet the same day.
Nothing in the morning, a red wet patch under the ear by evening, the size of your palm next day. Hot spots spread fast and nearly always have another cause.
Sleeping more, gaining weight without eating more, glued to the radiator, thinning flanks. It may be the thyroid, or something else that looks very like it.
The bowl is still full from this morning. Sometimes it is wet food or cold weather, sometimes the first sign of nausea, pain or illness. His gums and skin tell you which.
A murmur picked up at the booster, a faint in the park, a cough that comes at night. Heart disease is common from middle age on, and you track it with one simple number.
A bag of kibble and a sheet saying three times a day. Feeding looks simple, which is exactly why it is where most of the unnoticed mistakes happen.
A tiny tooth on the rug, red gums, a chewed table leg. It is all over by about seven months, and until then it is the best time to get him used to a hand in his mouth.
Each nail has blood vessels and nerves inside, so it bleeds a lot and hurts a lot. It looks worse than it is: most of the time you can stop it at home with a pad.
A big, restless dog retching with nothing coming up, his belly as tight as a football. A twisted stomach is operated on within hours, not days.
Neck stretched, eyes wide, loud snorting in-breaths, then it is over. Usually it is reverse sneezing, a harmless reflex, but a few conditions look very like it.
A pink patch in the snow, a reddish drop on the tiles, marks on the sofa. What matters is when the blood shows in the stream and, above all, whether urine still flows.
The bowls are bought and the list of questions fills a page. The first days with a new puppy set habits for life, so a simple plan is well worth having.
Your face when you get home, your feet after a shower, visitors and children. Licking nearly always has a simple reason, and you are the one who sets the rule.
He goes down limp, does not respond for a few seconds, then gets up as if nothing happened. Even if he looks fine now, a faint means a trip to the vet.
Rusty stains between the toes, red skin, slurping on the sofa every evening. Pododermatitis only names what you see; a diary and photos find the cause sooner.
A muzzle puffed up on one side looks frightening and usually settles within a day or two. What matters is the first 30 minutes: breathing, gum colour, vomiting.
Her bed is wet in the morning and she does not seem to know. Incontinence has causes that can be found, and the commonest responds very well to treatment.
The house is too quiet, you wake at walk time, the other dog searches every room. Grief for a dog is real, and it needs time rather than hurry.
A lead dropped at a firework, a gate left open, an empty harness on the pavement. Your first instinct is to run after him shouting. The first useful thing is to stop.
The ball sits on the rug and he goes off to lie down. Play can be learned at any age, and it starts with what he enjoys, not with what you bought him.
You pick up the lead and nobody comes. He sleeps, leaves food in the bowl, ignores the ball. An off day or the first sign of illness; what comes with it decides.
He no longer comes when you call from the kitchen and jumps when you touch him asleep. Often it is not old-age stubbornness at all: he simply cannot hear you.
Sudden head shaking after a walk through dry grass, sneezing fits, one eye held shut. A grass seed only travels forwards, so the first few hours count.
A dog who bolts from the bath or grabs the brush can learn to accept both. Small steps, good treats and his right to say stop get you there faster than you think.
Nine weeks old, vaccinations not finished and a whole world to meet. What he needs is a few good meetings you choose for him, not a crowd all at once.
He stops, sniffs, drops a shoulder and rolls over in bliss. Rolling has a few possible explanations, and the plan starts in the seconds before it happens.
Two months after her season she is nesting in the wardrobe, mothering soft toys and making milk. It is a false pregnancy and it usually passes. A few signs will not wait.
At home he is the gentlest dog, on the pavement he lunges at anyone in a hood. The barking has a reason, and the plan starts from the distance at which he stays calm.
Ribs on show, hips sticking out, a harness that hangs off him. A dog who is lean by build is one thing; a dog who is losing weight now is quite another.
A puddle at every homecoming, or whenever a visitor leans over him. He knows where to go; in those moments he simply can't hold it.
A line of hairy caterpillars on a path under the pines, then drooling and a swollen tongue. The hairs burn on contact: rinse his mouth with water and get to a vet now.
He plants his feet at the corner or flops down belly-up. There is nearly always a reason, and the reason decides what you do about it.
Boxes in the hall, new smells, new neighbours, strange footsteps on the stairs. Most dogs settle into a new home within a few weeks, faster if you prepare them early.
A yelp by a bush, then a muzzle swelling up within minutes. Keep him still, take his collar off and head for a clinic, ringing them on the way.
Two small holes on the neck, hardly any blood. With dog bites, what lies under the skin is nearly always worse than what you can see on top.
He leans against you, you stroke him, and a few seconds later he nips. It is almost never "out of nowhere": he warned you, or something hurts.
Paws running, lips twitching, a muffled growl from the rug. Most of the time your dog is simply dreaming. Being woken with a start is another matter.
A few drops on the sofa, on a friend's handbag, on the new door. Marking is a deliberate message, and you work on it differently from house soiling.
Bones under benches, napkins, socks, stones. Scavenging comes naturally to a dog and it is dangerous for him; the habit changes with patience and good treats.
The bowl is empty in five seconds and sometimes the kibble comes back up. There is a reason for the speed, and you can slow meals down without taking food away.
To the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom and back. A dog who follows you is usually a perfectly normal dog. What matters is how he feels when he cannot.
He runs, lifts a back leg, goes three steps on three legs and then carries on. In small breeds it is very often the kneecap slipping out of place.
He slammed on the brakes after the ball and has held a hind leg up ever since. Or he has been limping after walks for weeks. The knee is the first suspect.
A bare ring round the eyes, nails that grow too fast, a dog adopted from southern Europe. Leishmaniasis can be kept under control and, above all, largely prevented.
Barking at every oncoming car, or only in the last two kilometres before the park. Barking in the car always has a reason, and it takes your mind off the road.
Shivering after ten minutes, lifting his paws off the snow, licking his pads after a gritted pavement. Winter brings three different problems, and one is urgent.
A hunched back, a yelp when you lift him, then the back legs start to wobble. With a slipped disc the hours count, and so does how you carry him to the clinic.
He hides when the harness comes off the hook, or grabs the lead like a tug rope. Fear and play get the same fix: help him link harness and lead with good things.
The smell on the sofa, the tummy gurgling at night. Usually it's food and eating too fast. A swollen, tight belly in a large dog is a different thing: an emergency.
He braces at the first step, freezes at the top on the way down, or has stopped climbing after years. Each version has a different cause and needs a different plan.
He vanishes under the bed when visitors arrive, or flattens himself at the sight of a man in a hood. Fear of people is worked on from a distance, at his pace.
He presses against the wall at every bus, turns for home after two steps or sits down on the pavement. Fear of traffic improves with work, from a distance, at his pace.
He stops on the doorstep once it gets dark and will not walk down the dark hallway. Dogs see well at night, so the fear nearly always has another cause.
One dog vanishes under the bed, another lunges at the brush barking. To a dog, the vacuum is a loud thing that moves by itself and heads for his favourite spots.
The water bowl is empty by lunchtime, she wakes you at night to go out and loses weight though she eats everything. Diabetes is for life, but very manageable.
Taught patiently, a crate becomes where your dog sleeps of his own accord, door open. Forced on him, it becomes a prison. It is decided in the first few weeks.
Chin on Grandma's knee, a paw on the chair, the bread gone from the worktop. It is unlearned with one rule everyone keeps and a spot where he gets something better.
You get up for a moment and your seat has gone. The rule is yours to choose; what counts is that the whole family keeps it and he learns it without being dragged off.
The cat lives on the wardrobe and the dog chases her round the house. Dogs and cats can get on well if they meet in stages, at the cat's pace.
The child wants to hug him, the dog gets up and walks off. Dogs and children can grow up beautifully together, with a few clear rules and an adult keeping an eye.
Four months to go and a dog who sleeps on your bed. The preparation starts now, and there is one rule above all others: never alone together.
Under the bed, behind the washing machine, behind the sofa. A hiding dog is saying either I'm scared or it hurts, and from outside the two look the same.
Three dogs come out barking from behind the garages. You stop, turn sideways, keep your bag between you and back slowly out of their patch the way you came.
The courier rings and the flat fills with barking. The bell can come to mean something else: treats on his mat, three or four metres from the door, within a few weeks of work.
You hug and within three seconds the dog is between you. What we call jealousy is usually excitement, unease or guarding, and each is worked differently.
A grey muzzle, longer sleeps, stiff getting up in the morning. An older dog needs closer watching, more frequent check-ups and a home that suits the body he has now.
He lies in the corner of the hall, will not eat and jumps at every noise. An adopted dog needs calm and routine first; training and visitors come later.
At five months he came at the first "here"; at eight he looks straight through you. Adolescence is predictable, it passes, and what you practise now lasts.
Itching summer and winter, chewed paws, ear infections that keep returning, three foods that changed nothing. Food allergy is confirmed by a trial diet run to the end.
Two dogs can be twice the joy, but the first weeks need a plan: meeting outdoors, separate meals and daily breaks for the resident dog.
The first guides are being written.
The list grows every month. Until then, an assessment session starts from your dog, not from a list: we look together at what is happening and tell you what makes sense to do.