We’ve all seen it: a dog spots something massive, loud, and strange in the distance, slams on the brakes, and wants to bolt. Your first human instinct might be to pull them away, comfort them, or try to bribe them with a handful of treats.
But if you want a dog to truly grow past their fear and become completely indifferent to the things that scare them, you have to change how you handle those moments.
Take a look at this video of Monty and a massive industrial mower. To a small dog, that machine is a giant, moving threat. It represents what we call negative reinforcement—an environmental pressure he naturally wants to escape or chase away.
Here is exactly what was happening from Monty’s point of view, and why real leadership means letting your dog choose to step up.
The Choice: Stay Scared or Join Me
In this video, I wasn’t running away from the tractor, and I wasn’t leading Monty away on a leash. I turned around and started walking backward, moving straight toward the machine.
This is where simple leadership comes into play. I didn’t drag him, I didn’t beg him to follow me, and I didn’t baby him. By moving my body toward the threat, I put the onus entirely on Monty. I was telling him: “I am going to meet this scary thing. You can choose to stay back and be scared, or you can choose to join me.”
If a dog doesn’t trust you, they will choose flight. They will turn and run the other way because their survival instinct takes over. But look at Monty. Because he trusted me to have his back, he made the active choice to override his fear. He put his chest out, marched forward right alongside me, and faced the danger down.
Why Walking Backward Matters
Walking backward toward the trigger allowed me to do two really important things:
- It kept me as his anchor. By facing him, Monty could read my body language and see that I was completely calm and moving with purpose.
- It let me read his face. I could see every micro-expression and gauge his exact emotional state, making sure he was processing the challenge rather than completely redlining into panic.
By stepping up and marching toward the tractor, Monty’s behavior became his own positive reinforcement. He wasn’t just surviving the moment; he was actively participating in pushing through the pressure of his environment.
The Path to Total Indifference
I always tell dog owners: never leave things on a negative note. If you turn around and run away the moment your dog gets scared, the last memory etched into their brain is one of unresolved anxiety and avoidance. You’ve just reinforced the idea that the thing really was terrifying.
By pushing through those few tense moments together, the pressure dissolved the second the challenge was met. Facing that gauntlet allowed Monty to become truly socialized to industrial machinery.
Today, those big tractors don’t bother him at all. He is completely indifferent to them. He learned through his own four paws that he could handle the emotional pressure—and he learned that when we face a monster together, I’ve always got his back.