How Our Balcony Made My Dog's Reactivity Worse

Milo's favorite thing to do is watch the world go by from our balcony. But it functioned as a reactivity machine for his barking.

No dog trainer is perfect. So here's one of my biggest dog training mistakes: I've definitely made my dog's reactivity worse.

Milo came to us as an adolescent dog who seemed unflappable. He was happy to greet or not greet any person or dog he met; he didn't care too much either way. But over the last four years that we've had him, he's become much more choosy about the dogs he wants to interact with—and the ones he wants to stay far away.

He started out with one neighborhood enemy. This was a specific dog, one he'd never interacted with that we remembered, the sight of whom would send Milo into a frenzy. He'd stiffen up, stand up tall, air scenting and pulling in the direction of this enemy, lunging and barking on sight. We chalked it up to a quirk.

Then he found another enemy, again a dog we'd never noticed before. And before long, he had a handful of enemies, then more.

When he hurt his hip in scuffle at the park, things got worse. He wasn't allowed to walk more than down the block, and he was restless and in pain. He couldn't go to the park, or see any of his dog friends. He doesn't care about toys, so there was only one thing we could do to entertain him: let him sit out on the balcony. His favorite activity. He's always loved the balcony, which allows him to use his livestock guardian breed instincts to watch over our property.

But the Great Pyrenees wasn't bred to keep watch over a residential block in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn. He barked at the stray cats, certain people, and some (but not all!) dogs. He hated the men who collected cans, with their rattling baskets. The street sweeper might as well have been the devil.

Early on in our life with Milo, he'd occasionally bark when let out onto the balcony, but it didn't seem like enough to justify not letting him do his favorite thing. But the winter that he hurt his hip, he started barking more when we let him out on the balcony. Like, a lot more. Our rule was that if he barked, he'd have to come inside. We reasoned that if he wanted to stay outside, he'd learn to not bark. But his desire to bark outweighed even his desire to stay on the balcony. (This is both evidence against punishment's efficacy and a sign of how strongly selected-for behaviors like "bark at an intruder" are in dogs.)

Milo in his happy place, on the balcony guarding our trash.

And pain tends to make behaviors like reactivity worse. Think about when you have a headache—isn't your fuse a little shorter? Dogs are also associative learners, and sometimes, if they see a trigger (like another dog) while they're experiencing pain, they'll make the connection that dogs = pain.

Soon, we'd have to bring Milo in from the balcony after only a few minutes. He'd go in and out all day. He'd beg to be let out, and we'd open the door, only to bring him back in shortly after because of the barking.

Milo's hip eventually healed, and with better outlets for his energy, he didn't bark as much. But he was still barking more than he used to, including inside the house, where he could see and hear "suspicious" strangers walking by through the sliding glass door.

And as I got more experience as a dog trainer, I realized that letting him out there unsupervised was essentially training him to bark.

The thing about letting your dog outside unattended is, you can't control what walks by, or how they react to it. The same goes for letting your dog out unattended in the yard, if there are dogs or people or birds or deer that might appear on the other side of the fence. Even letting your dog watch people and dogs pass by through the window can cause issues.

We trained Milo to ring a set of bells to ask to be let out, but we had to take them away because he rang them incessantly.

When something your dog deems worthy of barking at comes toward them, they're going to try to ward them off. That probably means running right up to the fence and making a big display of guard barking and lunging. And then what happens? The person or dog who was walking by leaves. Your dog doesn't understand that they were going to keep walking no matter what behavior they displayed; they understand that something scary or annoying came toward them, they barked and lunged, and that thing went away.

We bought curtains, but Milo would just nose them aside and keep barking. When he came inside from the balcony, he was agitated, and it took him multiple minutes (and usually a few treats) to settle back down. He was always listening for enemies outside, and quick to jump up from what seemed like a deep sleep to bark at them.

The barking got worse around sunset, when Great Pyrenees are most active—an important time to guard against predators. In the dimming light, more people and dogs looked suspicious to him.

And what happened on the balcony didn't stay there. We noticed he had a new enemy at the park—a dog he often barked at as it walked by our house. Now, he wanted to bark and lunge at it up close.

As the list of enemies grew longer, and the amount of time he could spend out on the balcony grew shorter, I decided that even though Milo seemed to love the balcony, it was doing him more harm than good.

Window film was the best $30 I've ever spent!

I haven't taken his access away entirely, but I have drastically curtailed it. I put up window film so that he can't see the sidewalk from our living room anymore. I limit the time I let him out unsupervised, setting a 5-minute timer if I'm going to let him out, and only do so if it's a low-traffic time of day. No more access to the balcony at high-traffic times like in the evenings, when the sun is setting and people are coming home from work. Ideally, if he does go out there, it's with me, and I'm ready to counter-condition the presence of other dogs with food.

Milo's reactivity hasn't been cured. He still has enemies. But it has dramatically changed his behavior in the house. He no longer gets worked up when he hears the can man rattling down the block, and he doesn't sit and stare out the window waiting for something to bark at. I've noticed he doesn't get as worked up in the evenings (what we call "monster mode").

This is not to say that guard barking is always bad. If Milo lived on a farm, as he was bred to do, I'd love that he drove away any predators looking to harm my livestock. I might even like it if he alerted me to a new human visitor entering the property. But in a city, his guarding instincts were in overdrive, driving both of us crazy.

I'm also not trying to suggest that if your dog is reactive to people or other dogs, it's probably your fault. Rather, the takeaway is that some things can't be controlled. Even if you have years of dog training education under your belt, you still might make some mistakes.

We can't always foresee how our dogs will respond to certain situations, and even if you're obsessed with doing the "right" things with your dog, you might still end up with some unwanted behavior. The interplay of environment, genetics, and behavior is complicated, and you can't always protect your dog from unsavory experiences (like other reactive dogs lunging at your dog on walks!).

But there are some simple tweaks, like putting up $30 worth of opaque plastic on your windows (with water, so it comes off cleanly! I'll never stop singing the praises of window film), that can help you and your dog live more peaceful lives. No training effort required. Controlling how much visual access Milo has to our street hasn't cured his reactivity, but if it prevented even one neighborhood dog from becoming his new enemy, I think it's worth it.

And if I ever see someone whose large-breed dog is dragging them down the sidewalk, barking like a maniac, I feel their pain. I highly recommend a front-hook harness!