Since I was a little kid, I’d say something out of line and my mom would shoot back, “Watch your mouth.” When I got older, I’d respond with a smart remark: “Why? Is it gonna do tricks?” Truth is, I couldn’t really watch my mouth—because I was watching her. Maybe not while the words were coming out, but definitely right after.
My mom passed away in 2015 after spending eight long years bedridden from a motorcycle accident that left her with a traumatic brain injury and paralyzed from the chest down. One of the greatest gifts she gave me—though I hated it as a kid—was her unwavering clarity in what was expected of me. With her, everything was black and white. I always knew where I stood, and even now, I still hear her voice guiding my thoughts, words, and actions.
It’s biblical—our tongues hold the power of life and death. That truth doesn’t just apply to how we speak to people. It also connects directly to dog training.
Let me explain.
Two of the most common reasons people rehome their dogs are excessive barking and biting. Unlike wolves, domestic dogs bark—a lot. And they do it because they live in confined spaces: houses, yards, leashes. They bark out of frustration when they can’t escape a threat, chase something, or reach a resource. Wolves don’t have those same limits.
But here’s the key: once dogs experience calm, consistent, emotion-free leadership—and understand it’s not their job to assess threats or guard resources—they begin to relax. Anxiety fades. When they stop focusing on threats and resources, they stop reacting. They know where they stand.
“Demand barking” is like a child whining. Dogs learn that barking often gets a response from humans. They’re smart and adaptive—just like us—figuring out how to get what they want, when they want it.
When my dog Odin was young, he’d bark at me when I was doing something else. I’d correct him, and he’d go pout. But once I was finished, I’d go find him lying down, and then I’d engage—playing, praising. That taught him that I was in control. Barking didn’t get him what he wanted—patience and calmness did. Over time, he learned that quiet, respectful behavior gave him more of what he valued.
Now, when Odin barks, I know it means something. It gets my immediate attention because I know it’s not selfish—it’s for the good of the pack.
The same goes for nipping or biting. It happens far less often than barking, but the root is the same: lack of focus and calm. A dog that’s truly calm and quiet is doing so because it’s focused on a higher-ranking dog—or you, the handler. When they focus on you, they’re effectively learning to “watch their mouth.”
A dog you can take anywhere on a loose leash is a dog focused on you. Their silence and relaxed body language create a baseline for harmony and peace—both inside and outside the home. That kind of relationship is built on leadership, consistency, and trust.
When your dog’s eyes are focused on you, they won’t bark, nip, or bite in reaction to the world around them. That’s what I call Focus-Based Canine Training—Inujitsu, the Way of the Dog. It’s intentional dog handling as a pathway to peace—for both the dog and the handler.
This article is dedicated to my Mother Charlotte who showed me how to love and lead both people and dogs. I miss you so Mom. Thanks for putting the work in, even when you were tired and didn’t “feel like it”. You were the first person to teach me that love was an action, not just a feeling.