Every morning, before I head outside—even if it’s just to grab something from the car—I put on shoes.
Not because I think about it. Not because I’m worried about anything bad happening.
I just… do it. Automatically.
Because a long time ago, I learned: walking barefoot on gravel, or hot pavement, or frozen grass, hurts. And I’ve been acting on that lesson—without even thinking about it—for decades.
Not out of fear. Not because I was traumatized.
Just because I learned something useful, and my body hasn’t forgotten.
That’s what apprehension looks like. It’s quiet. It’s efficient. It’s protective. And it shapes a lot of our behavior—without drama, without tension, without needing to be consciously “trained.”
If you caught my last email about seatbelts and buzzing alarms, this might sound familiar. The same principles apply. I don’t buckle up for safety—I buckle up to avoid an aversive. And over time, I buckle up automatically, long before that buzzer has a chance to start.
Just like I put on shoes.
This is what it looks like when a behavior has been reinforced by avoidance—not through punishment, not through fear, but through clean, simple learning.
And that’s the kind of clarity I want to give my dogs, too.
We want dogs who anticipate what’s coming and act skillfully before pressure is applied.
Dogs who know what to do to stay in flow—who don’t need to be corrected, because they already know how to avoid the correction.
And that kind of skill?
It’s built through experience. Through clear expectations. Through associations that are fair, consistent, and teach the dog what leads to good outcomes—and what leads to outcomes they’d rather skip.
Apprehension isn’t anxiety.
It’s clarity.
And when we help our dogs build it, we’re giving them agency and confidence—not fear.
But here’s the real key: I know how to avoid the discomfort of going outside barefoot. I know how to make the seatbelt buzzer turn off. And when it comes to those inevitable moments of pressure, or discomfort, or confusion that our dogs will face, I want them to know what to do too.
I want my dogs to understand how to move through that discomfort—or how to “turn it off”—in productive ways. That’s resilience. And it’s not something that just happens.
It’s something we teach. It’s something we build.
That’s our job—as dog trainers, handlers, and owners. To give our dogs that same kind of clarity. That same kind of agency. That same kind of power.
And when we do need to apply a correction—when we’re trying to help a dog learn what to avoid—it needs to be done with the same level of intention and clarity:
✅ The behavior should already be well-trained in familiar, low-stakes environments. If the dog doesn’t yet understand the behavior clearly, applying pressure will just muddy the waters.
✅ We need to carefully choose the aversive—one that is minimal, clear, and non-damaging. Remember, an aversive doesn’t have to be painful. Leash pressure, body blocking, withholding movement or interaction—all of these can be aversive if they produce a result the dog wishes to avoid. It’s not about intimidation; it’s about clarity.
✅ We must teach the dog how to turn the aversive off. That’s the key to it all. The dog should know: “If I do X, the pressure goes away.” Just like I know buckling my seatbelt stops the buzzing. If a new, unfamiliar signal started with no obvious way to stop it? That would be frustrating, not educational. We want the dog to succeed—not struggle.
Because that’s what builds real resilience—not just surviving pressure, but learning how to navigate it, avoid it, and perform with confidence.
If this clicked for you, or made you rethink how you approach training, I’d love to hear from you. Or check out some of the free training resources at www.theagilitychallenge.com/free-training—they’re packed with practical tools to build clarity and confidence in your dog.
More soon,
—Daisy
For those who aren’t Agility Challenge members already, but are curious about the training I offer, check out the free training available at The Agility Challenge Website!