I’ve had Zinnia for a month now; I’ve been undergoing intensive socialization training in preparation for certifying her for advanced therapy work in assisted care facilities and hospice.

I believe she has met at least 300 people by now if I include the students and staff at Bishop Maginn and the residents of the Mansion and a considerable chunk of the residents of my town (dentist, cafe, bank). The therapy dog schools suggest a puppy meets at least 200 people by 16 weeks.

We’re way past that.

Today, Maria and I went to the local Artisan’s Market in town to buy a gift for a friend and visit Carol Conklin, a very gifted artist and a close friend of ours. I brought Zinnia, this was a new place, and a unique chance to test my calming training.

I took her for a brisk walk first to expel some of that intense puppy energy.

I brought her in the bookstore, where everyone remarked on how calm she was. Then back to the Artisan’s Market, where I walked around with her and then asked her to lie down, which she did.

And I asked her to stay, which she also did.

In a couple of minutes, she was asleep. Everyone in the shop came up to me to tell me how calm she was.

The most common – nearly 100 percent – comment about Zinnia is that she is calm. Invariably, the explanation is followed by a question: how did I get her to be so quiet? This question comes about almost every breed and kind of dog  – purebred,  rescue shelter, and lots of stories of woe.

And calmness is not a frequent train in many puppies or older dogs, at least according to the laments that I am hearing.

I want to write about this and share what I believe about calm dogs since hyper, and sometimes destructive dogs seem to be such an enormous problem for dog lovers. As always, I’m not telling anyone what to do, I’m sharing what it is that I do. People can take it or leave it.

Yes, Zinnia is well-bred, but no, she did not come to us calm.

I am no Cesar Milan; I am no dog trainer. Dogs and their owners are all different, and what I do may not have the least bit of relevance for what you do, given your age, dog,  gender, temperament, environment, anxiety, patience, and focus. Some dogs are inbred, some are not. Some are dominant, others submissive.

No trainer or book or video or pet store classes can cover all of the possibilities for you or me. We are on our own, we have to think it through. You can’t train a dog in four weeks, training is never done.

Anyone who gets a rescue dog like Bud should be prepared for intense calming training (like Bud has gotten) because many rescued dogs have endured trauma and disruption and fear. It’s great to rescue a dog, but be prepared to do the work the dog may need. The tricky thing about Bud was that I never knew exactly what happened to him, so it was hard to work around his fear.

It still is sometimes. Zinnia was a blank slate; she had no traumas to work around. It was up to me to screw it up or not.

Our dogs and we are all different, no matter what our friend Cesar says on his TV show, what works for him and his assistants (or for me) may have no bearing on you or your dogs. He doesn’t put his failures on TV.

I like to put mine on the blog. That way, you know I’m just like you.

I reject the Communist approach to training – one trainer, one method for all. That is a quick path to failure in my mind.

I want to say that Zinnia is not, by nature, a calm dog. She has enormous energy, huge prey, and play drive and will run and play and smell for hours without tiring or slowing down. She chases poor Bud all over the house and yard; we have to give him constant refuge in his crate. I have to work every day to show her how to let go and settle. She is learning.

I can tell you with conviction that yelling at a hyper puppy or adult dog is almost guaranteed to fail 100 percent of the time. I speak from personal experience. Nothing reinforces an out of control or hyper dog more than paying too much attention.  I have a mantra: when that happens, no touch, no talk, no eye contact, no shouting.

I walk away, take a deep breath, try in a couple of minutes.

And it’s also important to say that she is not a perfect dog, and never will be. There is no such thing, and if there were, I wouldn’t want one.

Zinnia has attempted to chew many things that are not hers, sometimes balks at obedience, sometimes challenges my authority, and I quickly go into my “Calming Training” mode.

For several days, she barked and shrieked when she wanted to come out of the crate.

I waited her out each time – she came out when she was quiet only. She got it after some ear-rattling mornings.

The calming training is working, but it is a copout and a lie for people to think a dog comes this way because she is beautiful or well-bred. We have worked hard every single day to get to calm. Maria can testify to that. There is more to do.

Cesar Milan is right when he talks about the need for humans to be the leader, not just the love interest or the best friend of a new dog.

Our world is not natural to them; it is arousing and confusing and often frightening. Beyond that, dogs closely mirror the emotional construct of their humans, although many people refuse to believe that. If I am nervous, she will be worried. If I am anxious, she will want to protect me. If I am angry, she will be afraid of me. If I am loud or bullying or impatient, she will ignore me.

If I am patient and loving, she will learn to listen to me.

None of this is natural; all of it is learned, trained, taught, and repeated. Dogs are hyper when they get little or no exercise;  when they have hyper humans shouting at them angrily with many words in strange languages when there is tension in a family, and most importantly, when there is no work for them to do.

Cesar likes to tell people to wear a weighted backpack to keep them tired and focused on the walk instead of getting distracted by squirrels.

That is not something I wish to do, I put a small thin chain around Zinnia’s neck, and when she runs off to the side or ahead of me, it pinches her neck lightly, and she stops.

I am teaching her to walk calmly and “heel” by reaching down every five minutes or so and holding a treat out by my left knee.

I tap the knee and say “heel,” and when I say “heel,” she comes right up alongside me, and I get to praise her. It’s working. It will take weeks.

Zinnia needs to be calm because I don’t wish to be yanked all over the country when I get to 75 some years of age down the road. I don’t care for the weighted backpack idea.

All dogs need work, and it need not be sheep or agility. It can be regular exercise walks, chasing balls and toys, regular training sessions, rides in cars, visiting other dogs, watching over children, tending to needy humans, keeping people company, cheering people up.

What they don’t need is to lie around in basements and yards for hours and hours with nothing to do and nobody to be with. If you have no work for a dog, consider not getting one (that is young) because he or she is not likely to be calm.

And again, the work doesn’t have to be saving lives or jumping through hoops. It can be any regular activity that breaks up listlessness and gets the dog to react and consider things.

It’s doing absolutely nothing that causes the problem. Once or twice a day, I train Zinnia. Three or four times a day, she plays with Bud or Fate.

Once a day, we take a walk together. Three or four times a week, we visit the Mansion or Bishop Maginn. The rest of the time, she is learning to be calm: with my obedience training, in my gated office, and after dark, when the sun goes down, no more activity or playing.

If necessary, I put a leash on her, tie it to my chair. At first, she yowled and struggled and pulled. Now, when I put the leash on her, and say “quiet time,” she lies down after a whine or two and goes to sleep.

Evenings are quiet, peaceful. Calm.

When she gets excited – which she often does – I give her a marrow bone or a hard and healthy treat. I put it in her crate so she can eat it in peace. Or I put her outside to blow off some steam.

There are bones and toys all over the house.

She always has something to chew, carry around, or play with. When she chews on the wrong thing, I give her the right thing. I honestly believe that anyone can have a calm dog.

Yesterday, at the request of the owners, we brought Zinnia into Jean’s Place, a diner, stuffed with people and reeking of food smells. She sat by my feet and lay down when I asked her to. Person after person came up and told me horror story after horror story about their dogs and how they would never dare to bring them into a place like Jean’s.

I remember Robin, the waitress asking me for help; her dog was barking and jumping all around the table during dinner driving her and her husband crazy. I told her to get an empty soda can, put a bunch of pennies into it and tape the top. When the dog jumps or barks, shout off and throw the can at her feet.

Her eyes got wide, and next week, she told me she only had to do it once; the dog has not bothered her during meals since.

They need to learn the one thing they are never taught in the natural or human world – to do nothing. To understand the rules by which they must have to live, none of them inherent to dogs.

I explained to Robin that this is a dignity issue. Dogs love to be what we want them to be, this is why they get to sleep in a bed, and squirrel raccoons don’t.

The most important requirement for a calm dog is a peaceful and clear and determined owner. We are smarter than them; we are stronger; they depend on us for everything they need to survive.

A calm dog needs training and activity, for sure, but more than anything else, they need a human with a relaxed and clear head.