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A few weeks ago while on vacation, I found myself standing in the middle of a cobblestone street in Old Quebec City. The architecture was breathtaking, the sound of street performers filled the air, the smell of incredible food was tempting, and the history was palpable. It was vibrant and exciting, with so much to explore. Each corner I turned offered a new sight to see. But for my AuDHD daughter, the vibrancy of the scene was quickly being eclipsed by the weight of it. The sensory input—the noise, the crowds, the smells, and unpredictable movement—was reaching a crescendo and becoming too much to handle. A pot, ready to boil over.
Even on vacation, my brain can’t help but process the environment through the lens of a professional dog trainer. While my daughter is certainly not a dog, watching her overwhelm reminded me of the exact same principles of learning and emotional thresholds. A part of me, caught up in the excitement of travel, wanted to push through to see "just one more landmark." But ignoring distress—whether human or canine—always comes at a cost. I had to pause and honour her limits, mirroring the fundamental rule of dog training: real progress only happens when we respect where the learner is both emotionally and mentally. We didn't push through. We didn't insist on seeing "just one more landmark." Instead, we made the conscious choice to retreat to the quiet of our hotel room. We needed to recenter, to lower the baseline of arousal, and to give her nervous system the space it required to process before going out to see more. This moment of parenting was a profound mirror to my work as a dog trainer. It served as a stark reminder that whether we are navigating a foreign city, a new training skill, or a novel environment, knowing when to pause is often the most critical skill we can possess. The Struggle to Recognize the "Enough"As dog trainers and owners, we are often so eager to keep going. Just one more repetition. We want to see progress; we want to achieve the goal. However, one of the greatest challenges we face is recognizing when a dog has simply had enough or has succeeded just far enough before collapsing. Overstimulation in dogs looks remarkably similar to overstimulation in humans. It manifests as frantic movement, an inability to focus, heightened reactivity, or even a complete "shut down." When a dog reaches this threshold, the learning center of the brain effectively closes for business. Pushing further isn't training; it’s merely adding stress to an already overloaded system. The Philosophy of the Pause In my training philosophy, the "pause" is not a sign of failure; it is a strategic tool. It involves a simple but powerful cycle:
Beyond just knowing when to pause, we also need to be mindful of where we are in our training journey. This brings us to a vital distinction in how we structure our sessions and manage our dog's emotional state. The Shallow End vs. The Deep End To train effectively, we must understand the critical distinction between reactivity work and obedience work. Reactivity work is primarily about management and emotional regulation; the goal is to keep the dog below their threshold in a low-arousal state. We aren't necessarily asking for complex behaviors; we are asking for a calm nervous system. Teaching obedience skills, however, requires a deliberate progression, much like learning to swim. We always start in the shallow end—a distraction-free environment where the dog can 'touch the ground,' feel safe, and focus entirely on the new mechanic. This is where the foundation is poured. The most common mistake owners make is moving to the deep end too soon. By introducing heavy distractions or reactive triggers before a skill is mastered in the shallow end, we set the dog up for failure. We must ensure they are strong swimmers in the quiet of the living room before we ask them to perform in the middle of a busy park. We must remember that slow progress is the fastest route to a solid foundation. If the foundation is rushed, cracks will inevitably show up later—usually in the form of inconsistent performance or a regression in behaviour under pressure. Crate and Marinate: The Art of Retention A key concept we utilize to facilitate this rest is what I call 'crate and marinate.' When a dog is learning something new or working through a high-stress environment, their brain needs time to synthesize that information. By placing a dog in their crate after a successful session, we provide them with a sensory-neutral environment. Here, they can rest and 'marinate' on what they’ve just learned. Contrast this with 'releasing to liberty' too soon. If we finish a session and immediately let a dog run free in a high-arousal state, they often lose the lesson in the subsequent chaos. The crate acts as a processing station, ensuring that retention remains high and arousal remains managed. Moving Forward with CompassionWhether it’s a child in a busy city or a dog in a new park, the needs are the same: safety, understanding, and the grace to stop before the breaking point. By honouring the need for rest and recognizing the signs of overstimulation, we aren't just training better dogs—we are building deeper, more compassionate relationships. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do for your training is to simply go back to the hotel room and breathe. Are you struggling to find the balance between progress and pacing in your dog’s training? Reach out, we would love to help. Comments are closed.
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Meet the authorAnna Marie Stewart, DTTA-CPDT, is the owner and founder of Instinct Canine Training in Burlington, Ontario. Her passion and love of dogs is evident to anyone who works with her, and is an experienced trainer who works with a variety of clients to achieve a well-mannered dog. Categories
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