I’m continually reminded of what a gift my dog, Violet, has been to me in my life. I would have only a fraction of the training skills I use today were it not for this remarkable soul.

Violet came to me a complex riddle of fears and neuroses. She was found at three weeks old, abandoned and starving in a box at a car wash, surrounded by her dead litter-mates. Luckily, she was taken in by a loving foster mom, but she had so many dogs in her care that Violet got a bit lost in the crowd. In the first four months of Violet’s life she lost much of her vision when her eyelids turned under (a common issue for shar-pei mixes) and her foster mom didn’t have the resources to get her the necessary surgery to repair them. The foster mom also didn’t have the time to keep an eye on her other dogs, who regularly fought with Violet, or her teenage son, who practiced pitching baseballs near Violet’s head when his mom wasn’t home.

By the time I got her, she was scared of every person, dog, and moving object she couldn’t identify. And since she could barely see, this meant she was scared of pretty much everything. Worse, she had no idea what to do with her fear. Some days she’d tremble and wet herself if a stranger came up to her, other days she’d growl and lunge. People had no idea what to do with her, and the sanest, most balanced dogs in the neighborhood would take one look at her conflicting body language and immediately want to correct her with a swift, simple lesson from their teeth.

Her first six months in my home were heart-breaking. She couldn’t eat, drink, or sleep in peace. She was anxious about noises and vibrations. Even after her eyelids were repaired and she regained some of her sight, she still didn’t have a clue. There was almost nothing she could do easily.

She was such a mess that the only way I could reach her was with the most basic of approaches. Forget obedience, it was all I could do to train her to just be.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I found a few things Violet liked, and kept looking for more. I knew she liked the taste of lamb and salmon, but soon discovered she also also liked honeydew melon and pickles. She enjoyed a fleece-covered squeaky bone and walks at the wild-flower fields off 45^th street in the middle of the night, or on really rainy days, when there weren’t any other dogs around. I wasn’t sure if she liked me, but I could tell she didn’t like it when I wasn’t around.

I used my growing list of things Violet liked to reward her for the most rudimentary behaviors. If she ate her kibble without being anxious, I’d add a few bits of freeze-dried liver to her bowl. If she let a UPS truck drive past the house without barking, I’d throw her the fuzzy bone. In everything she undertook throughout the day, I’d look for any tiny hint of normalcy, and reward it the second I saw it. When she was able to just sleep without jumping up to patrol the house every few seconds, I would sing to her.

Soon the two of us had a funny routine. She would do nothing in particular, and I would tell her what a good, smart, beautiful dog she was. I filled every boring, normal moment I could with praise and rewards, until she was finally able to relax around me. I was able to take her to an obedience class a few months later, where I found it was already second nature for me to mark and reward all her good behaviors and ignore her bad ones. The only thing I had to learn was how to clarify my requests so that she could understand what I was asking her for. When we tried to take the CGC six months later, she excelled at everything except being approached and petted by a stranger, which remains a challenge for her to this day.

Often when I’m training other people’s dogs, I come back to my own early routine with Violet. People often get caught up in finding the right thing to do that they so easily forget the basics. It doesn’t have to be complicated: our own happy, calm energy is one of the most rewarding things we can give our dogs– something I only learned when there was nothing else my own anxious, neurotic, reactive dog could accept from me. Again and again, Violet taught me to get out of my own head and just be.

I try to practice this energy and use these basic skills with every dog I work with these days. I’m not always successful: God knows I tend to overthink anything I possibly can. But I succeed a lot more than I would if I hadn’t had such a wonderful teacher.

To this day, fourteen years later, I still mark and reward Violet for nothing in particular. She still hears what a good, smart, beautiful dog she is about a hundred times a day, everyday, and she still appreciates a good dill pickle whenever she can get one thrown in for good measure.