As we started out on our two-mile walk, though, I started to feel badly. Poor Max, I thought. He’s been cooped up in the house all week. I’ll just be patient today and let him sniff as much as he wants. After all, I needed to let a dog be a dog, right? And so, Max stopped at every tree and took his sweet time sniffing the snow and bark and dog poo. I started to become impatient. Max needed his exercise; otherwise, he would become a Tazmanian Devil once we got back home. So, I tightened up on the leash again.

Of course, this was just as disastrous. Now, Max, who had become accustomed to stopping and dallying for as long as he wanted, really started to pull. I spent the rest of the walk just trying to keep him in line so that we could both get a reasonable amount of exercise. Once I got back home, wiped the goop out of his eyes, it occurred to me that working on our bad habits is much like walking a bad-ass dog that you happen to adore. In order to be successful when we’re walking the “dog” of our bad habits, we have to remember three things: don’t start with too short a leash, don’t start to feel sorry for the dog, and once you begin the walk, stay focused.

Don’t Start With Too Short a Leash

When we begin to change our bad habits, we often severely restrict ourselves. Take caution with this approach. If we begin with a very taut leash, we become very frustrated with continuously reeling ourselves in and our “dog” natures become even more resistant to change. Instead, we have to be reasonable, gradually shortening the leash of our bad habits by changing our behaviors. For example, in the case of me and Max, I could start with a loose leash, gradually shortening it throughout the walk or throughout a series of walks. This would help Max to become used to a shorter leash without feeling so restricted (okay—so, I care about my dog. I’m no Cesar Milan, okay? I believe dogs have feelings too.) This is why many “quit smoking” programs encourage you to cut back before your quit or to start tracking cigarettes. Gradually, your “dog” nature starts to get the picture.

Don’t Start to Feel Sorry for the Dog

If there is one thing that I have learned from watching “It’s Me or the Dog” and “The Dog Whisperer,” it’s that dogs want to be disciplined. They need structure, and they require discipline in order to be happt. Dogs that do not have a clear “master/owner” can become very unstable. When they feel like they have to lead the pack, they can become overly aggressive or exhibit other behavioral problems. When we start to feel sorry for our dogs and to humanize them, we run into a lot of trouble. We start to feed them fast food, and they start to get diagnosed with human diseases. We give them too many treats, and they stop obeying our commands unless we give them something. We buy them expensive bedding and they rip it to shreds (Oh wait! How did that one get in there, Max? Oh, no. I’m not bitter at all.)

In the case of habits, feeling sorry for our dog “natures” is really about feeling sorry for ourselves. We feel like we deserve to [insert bad habit here]. So, we start to cater to our desires and not to be disciplined. Remember that like a dog, our inner man secretly wants to be disciplined. This is a universe of order and we desperately crave it.

Once You Begin the Walk, Stay Focused

If you start the walk on a short leash, keep the dog on a short leash – stay focused. The short leash means that you’re walking for exercise—that you’re staying on task. Sometimes, in the middle of the walk, you’ll find that the leash has gotten longer and your dog has strayed farther. No problem. It’s not too late to course correct. Simply take a deep breath, call your dog to his place and begin again. With some practice, course correction will become second nature for both of you.

With habits, I’ve found the same to be true. Once you make the decision to change, stick with it–no matter what. And when you find yourself in the middle of a bad habit, beating yourself up is not the appropriate course correct. Just take a deep breath, call your “dog” nature to his place and begin again. With time, you and your “dog” will be in sync. Maybe you’ll even be able to walk him off-leash.

He was tired, cold and very hungry.

Tired because he’s a firefighter recruit who endures grueling physical training sessions. Cold because the homeowner’s association has decided to replace our floor-to-ceiling windows in the great room in the middle of winter. Hungry because I didn’t have time to shop this week. Somebody had on some serious grumpy pants.

Before I could get settled, the phone rang. It was my brother. We needed to discuss his marketing plan. As I stepped into the bedroom to take the call, I heard the commotion in the great room. Max, the Mischievous, had just stepped on my husband’s very…last…nerve. Dear Husband (DH) started speaking loudly, Max started barking. Then I heard the crage door open. Then, the inevitable.

“Oh, Max!” Max had peed in his crate. DH was not happy. He stomped into the bedroom where I was taking my call, gathered up a few things, loudly closed the baby gate that we used to keep Max out, or in, depending on our mood, and then marched back into the great room. After he had cleaned up Max’s mess, the crage door slammed shut. That was it for Mr. Max.

Once I finished my phone call, Max was sequestered in the bedroom in the crage we keep there next to the bed. Fast forward one hour. Our friends are over. Max doesn’t make a peep. We’re in the bedroom measuring closet doors. Max is an angel. No barking. No whining. So, just as our guests are preparing to leave, I suggest that we let Max say goodbye. DH gives me the evil eye.

We open the gate and Max walks out, stretches and then greets each of our guests.

“Oh, he’s so good!” they exclaim as Max sits patiently and allows himself to be petted. Then, he shows them his new trick. He knows how to “shake a paw.” How charming. Max is magnificent again. He’s so good. I massage his back (he likes that) and scratch his chest. He licks my ears. He’s so good.

“I wore him out today,” DH says. This is information I didn’t have before. I learn that Max and DH had gone to the park today, which is why Max is too tired to bark, whine or steal socks from the dirty clothes. What a difference in his behavior. The dog whisperer had it right: exercise, discipline, affection. I suppose I’ll need to get a doggie treadmill. The alternative is to get up early in the morning and let Max run, then take him for a walk at night. This thought does not appeal to me.

But this is what Max needs. Poor Max. We get disappointed with him for misbehaving, but it’s clear that he needs more exercise. It seems that my “poor Max” this week could be a “better me.” Through giving Max exactly what he needs, I’d be getting what I need to.

Huh.