How I Taught Georgie to Stop Pulling on the Leash in 2 Weeks

Last Tuesday Georgie ate my sock and acted like I’d wronged him when I took it back. He gave me this look, like, “Excuse me, I was working on that.” He has this whole dramatic thing down pat. It’s the same look he gives me on walks when he’s pulling so hard he’s practically doing a wheelie on two legs, and I try to correct him. He thinks he’s a wolf, you know? A tiny, fluffy, 8-pound wolf with an opinion on every squirrel and leaf. I swear he believes he’s tracking big game, not just heading to the mailbox.

So, you asked how I got him to stop pulling? Man, it was a journey. And honestly, it wasn’t two weeks of pure bliss, more like two weeks of me wanting to pull my own hair out while he pulled my arm off. But we got there. He still has his moments, especially if Teddy, his older brother, is sniffing something extra interesting, but it’s like 80% better.

First Attempts (aka Epic Fails)

Okay, so first, like every clueless dog owner, I started with a regular flat collar. And a leash. And a dream. A dream quickly shattered by Georgie’s powerful, albeit pint-sized, neck muscles. He’d just choke himself, hack, cough, and then keep pulling, completely oblivious to his own discomfort. I’d try the whole “stop walking when he pulls” thing, which just meant we spent 90% of our walk standing still on the sidewalk while Georgie stared intently at a bush, convinced it held the secrets of the universe. It was exhausting, frustrating, and made me feel like a bad dog mom. Plus, people would stare. You know how it is.

Then I tried a harness, one of those basic step-in ones, figuring it would distribute the pressure better. It did, but it also gave him *more* leverage. It was like putting a mini-sled dog in a harness – he just leaned into it even harder. He was a tiny locomotive, dragging me wherever his wild wolf heart desired. I almost fell flat on my face more than once trying to brace against him. My shoulder was constantly sore. It was clearly not working, and I was getting desperate.

What Actually Worked

After talking to a friend who actually trains dogs (and has a Rottweiler, so she knows about pulling), she suggested a front-clip harness. I was skeptical, because a harness is a harness, right? Wrong. She explained that with a front clip, when they pull, it turns them sideways instead of letting them lean into it. It made sense. I ended up getting the Ruffwear Front Range Harness in size XXS for Georgie, about $40 on Amazon. Yeah, it’s a bit pricey for a harness, but honestly, worth every penny.

The first time I put it on him, he looked at me like I’d betrayed him. It’s a bit bulkier than his old step-in, but it fits him really well and doesn’t rub. He tried to pull, naturally, and immediately got turned around. He looked so confused! Like, “Wait, where’s the squirrel now? And why am I facing you?” It wasn’t an instant fix, but it was a massive improvement. Instead of him dragging me forward with his chest and shoulders, he’d spin toward me when he lunged. Within about a week of consistent walks, he started to understand that pulling just meant he’d get redirected, not rewarded with a closer view of whatever had his attention.

The key difference was that he couldn’t use his whole body weight to power through the pull anymore. The front clip fundamentally changed the physics of what he was trying to do. After two weeks of daily walks with the front-clip harness, the pulling dropped dramatically. We could actually enjoy our walks instead of me white-knuckling the leash and my shoulder aching for hours afterward.

Other Things That Helped

The harness did most of the heavy lifting, but I also started carrying high-value treats – small pieces of chicken or freeze-dried liver – to reward him when he walked beside me without pulling. The Ziwi Peak Air-Dried Beef Liver Chews, around $12 for a small bag, were a game-changer because they’re smelly enough that even a determined squirrel-chaser will notice them. I’d also switch up our walking routes so he had less of a “must investigate every blade of grass” attitude, and on days when Teddy was with us, I’d walk them separately at first to reduce the excitement factor.

Now, three months in, Georgie still gets excited and pulls occasionally – he’s still a tiny wolf at heart – but it’s manageable. We can actually have conversations on walks instead of me just bracing for impact. And honestly, seeing him trot along beside me without that constant tension on the leash? That’s the real win.