He's a Dog's Best Friend

By Anita Hamilton

One of the first lessons that dog trainer Brian Kilcommons teaches pet owners is never to tell their canine companions no. Although such advice may seem indulgent, his reason is practical, not philosophical: often dogs have no idea what the command means. "Most of the dogs in America think their name is No," jokes Kilcommons, who says the word is too vague for dogs to grasp because it doesn't correlate with a specific action. Instead, he advocates using commands such as off or stay, which dictate precise behaviors, then rewarding pups with praise--and the occasional treat--when they get it right.

Rethinking the way people communicate with their pets is a cornerstone of Kilcommons' approach to training and a big reason that the author of seven books, including Good Owners, Great Dogs, and star of the just released puppy-training DVD My Smart Puppy, has emerged as one of the premier dog trainers in the country. Whether an animal is pulling on the leash, jumping on the neighbors or quietly relieving itself on the living-room sofa, Kilcommons has a remedy. He has trained more than 35,000 dogs, ranging from abandoned shelter pups to the poshest celebrity pooches, including Harrison Ford's Labrador retriever, Diane Sawyer's Cavalier King Charles spaniel and Candice Bergen's two mixed breeds. "He can practically make dogs do anything," says Bergen, who adds that she still can't believe it when her golden-retriever--poodle mix, Jerry, lies down on command.

That kind of control is in demand because dogs have become increasingly pampered and correspondingly unruly. According to the Centers for Disease Control, an estimated 4.7 million people are bitten by dogs each year, and about half of them are children. The problem, says Kilcommons, is that dog owners have become so emotionally invested in their pets that they often overlook bad behavior. "People in really stressful jobs don't want to set boundaries with their dogs. So the dogs are out of control and at times dangerous," he says. By rewarding the animal's good behavior and teaching the humans how to exert authority in a way that their pets can understand, he makes training less stressful for both.

Kilcommons' love of dogs began as a child growing up in Levittown, N.Y. In his memoir Tails from the Bark Side, he recounts how his beloved mutt Irish served as an emotional buffer from the abuse he says he suffered at the hands of his father, a construction worker: "During a time when my life was full of stress, terror, and unpredictable cruelty, he [Irish] offered a harbor of love and sanity that I drew on daily." Originally planning to be a veterinarian, he dropped out of Iowa State University's pre-vet program when he could no longer afford it and opened his training business in 1977. His informal work with horses helped him realize the importance of negotiating space with animals, and he has incorporated those lessons into his classes.

Now 53, Kilcommons lives with his wife Sarah Wilson, who is also a trainer and the co-author of their books, on a 124-acre farm in Gardiner, N.Y. The couple has five dogs--two German shepherds, a beagle and two mixed breeds. Referrals from satisfied customers have led to a six-month wait for the group classes ($95 to $150 an hour) that they teach out of a converted barn next to their home. Private consultations are even harder to get and, starting at $200 an hour, costlier--but there's a queue for them too.

Richard Divenuto, a financial analyst in Balmville, N.Y., snagged two home visits earlier this year when his black-and-white boxer, Jackson, kept sitting on the furniture and barreling out the front door. He says the sessions were like psychotherapy for the whole family. Instead of working with Jackson right away or asking Divenuto what he saw as the problems, Kilcommons first watched the family's regular interactions with the dog, then suggested corrective measures based on the bad habits he had observed.

During the process, Divenuto says he learned that "my biggest mistake was allowing the dog to dominate in the house." Now Jackson stays off the couch (because he gets attention only when he's on the floor) and calmly waits for the command to go outside before running out the door (thanks to some basic training with the command sit). And although Divenuto's son Marc, 5, is just a few inches taller than the family dog, Jackson even follows the youngster's commands to sit and stay. "There's no democracy in dogdom," says Kilcommons, who preaches that people--not their pets--should always be top dog.