Derek and Kelly reached out after their three-year-old English Bulldog, Heavy, and their two-year-old Sheepadoodle, Basil, got into it, resulting in a pretty hefty vet bill. By the time I arrived, the dogs had already been separated for a while—which, let me be clear, is never a long-term solution… let me say that again: never a long-term solution.
When I got to the house, Heavy and their other dog, Max, greeted me at the door. Heavy jumped up a few times for attention but was quickly corrected and settled down. After a quick debrief with Derek and Kelly, we moved into the living room where Basil was waiting behind a gate at the top of the steps. Sweet boy—but clearly a “nervous Nelly.”
This is where things get interesting. Heavy, despite being a young English Bulldog, is actually very stable—a bit of an anomaly for the breed. But Basil’s nervous energy makes Heavy uncomfortable. You can almost see the embarrassment in Heavy’s eyes for the rest of the pack. He watches Basil, gets a little growl in, which Basil ignores, and then goes in for a nip—not to hurt him, but to redirect him. He’s trying to say, “Snap out of it, dude.”
Despite some nerves, Derek and Kelly agreed to bring the dogs together. And just as I predicted, it all played out: Basil’s anxiety flared, Heavy corrected him, and boom—it was on. The dogs latched onto each other on the couch. There was yelling, chaos.
I stopped Derek and Kelly mid-shout and asked if this was their response during the original fight. They said yes. I asked, “Did the yelling make them stop?” They said no. So I said, “Then stop yelling.”
All dogs hear is, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” Yelling fuels the fire. Verbalization—especially when dogs are already hyped—is a sign of instability. The more you do it, the more they tune you out.
I reminded them: dogs have been resolving conflicts for thousands of years without us. Sure, emergency vets aren’t cheap—but when left alone, dogs rarely kill each other. They latch to make a point, to demand submission, then let go. If the other dog doesn’t change the behavior? The correction continues. Most of this happens around the face and neck, where there’s loose skin and fur—nature’s padding for canine communication.
Where real damage happens? When humans interfere—pulling dogs apart causes ripping. And unless you’ve got two experienced people in sync, it’s almost impossible to separate a fight without making things worse. Ask me how I know.
I got down over Heavy, Derek over Basil. When I grabbed Heavy, he redirected and nipped my hand—until he realized it was his buddy George. Immediate submission. I sent him off to the far end of the couch to think it over.
Once things settled, I had Derek and Kelly love on Basil and Max (who couldn’t care less about the drama). Every time Heavy moved toward us, I shifted my weight forward—claiming the space, drawing a clear line. Within minutes, Heavy started looking to me, to Derek, to Kelly—instead of Basil. He wasn’t trying to be the bad guy. He was trying to fill the leadership void and bring stability to the pack the only way he knew how.
Derek and Kelly, both business owners and leaders in Men’s and Women’s Alliance, are fantastic human leaders—but leadership doesn’t always translate from people to dogs.
Heavy was eventually invited back in, rewarded for his self-control and focus. Quietly encouraged to leave Basil alone, reassured that it wasn’t his responsibility—Mom and Dad had it covered.
We moved to the door. Each dog stopped on a loose leash, focused on the handler—not the door. We did individual walks using the Immediate Correction and Traffic Lead. Once they could pass each other calmly, we had them go face-to-face, just a foot apart, both focusing on their humans. Then came a successful pack walk—human-led, with the dogs learning to look to their leaders to determine what’s a threat or a resource.
Back inside, we did more door work. I showed them how to claim the door, whether someone was coming or going. Much of the anxiety was rooted in door chaos. The dogs believed their barking was what got the door opened. So we flipped the script—Kelly stood with her back to the door, signaling ownership of the space and that whatever was on the other side wasn’t a threat. Then she led me in, showing the dogs that I was invited by a higher-ranking pack member—and deserved their respect.
I heard they had another small incident when Kelly was home alone, but they handled it. They’re now showing leadership to all three dogs daily through consistency, space control, and the understanding that love is an action, not just a feeling.
This is a textbook example of how the wrong dog sometimes ends up in training. Heavy looked like the problem—when in reality, he was trying to be the solution. Just like a big brother correcting a younger sibling, he needed to be reminded: “We appreciate the help, but we’ve got this.”