Dog Door Training: How Long It Actually Takes and What to Expect
Last Tuesday Georgie ate my sock and acted like I’d wronged him when I took it back. He’s usually pretty good about not eating random household items, but that’s also probably because he spends 90% of his life trying to convince us he’s a wolf trapped in a 9-pound Morkie body. He has Opinions about everything, especially when it comes to going outside. For the longest time, it was a whole song and dance – him looking at us, us asking “do you need to go potty?”, him running to the door, us opening it, him doing his business, and then waiting for us to let him back in. It was a production. Especially when you’re on a work call and Georgie is doing his dramatic stare-and-whimper routine. That’s why we got a dog door. And let me tell you, it was not the instant liberation I envisioned.
The Great Dog Door Experiment: Expectations vs. Reality
Okay, so you’re thinking about a dog door. Bless your heart. My initial thought was, “Great, no more standing by the door like a human butler every hour.” I pictured Georgie, in all his self-proclaimed wolf glory, striding through that flap with the confidence of a seasoned explorer. What I got was a tiny, suspicious creature staring at a piece of plastic like it was an alien portal to another dimension. He’d sniff it, bark at it, even try to dig under it, but push through it? Forget about it.
We installed a pretty standard one, a PetSafe Extreme Weather Pet Door, large size for Teddy ($100 on Chewy). We figured if Teddy, our perpetually chill but slightly dim Golden Doodle, could get it, Georgie would eventually follow suit. The installation itself was a whole weekend project, involving cutting a hole in our actual wall, which my husband lovingly refers to as “the time we permanently defaced our house for a dog.” Georgie, of course, supervised with intense scrutiny, offering his silent judgment on every saw cut. Teddy just wagged his tail whenever we offered him a treat.
The First Weeks: A Comedy of Errors and Treats
Honestly, the first two weeks were a joke. Georgie would stand at the door, look at us, then look at the dog door, then look back at us with an expression that clearly said, “Are you seeing this abomination? Why are you not opening the REAL door?” We tried everything. We taped the flap open, which worked for Teddy immediately. He walked right through, did his business, and came back in like it was always there. Georgie, however, acted like the open hole was a trap. He’d stick his head through, then pull it back out dramatically, as if narrowly escaping certain doom.
We tried luring him with treats. My husband would be outside with a handful of his favorite ZiwiPeak Lamb Air-Dried Dog Food ($20 for a small bag on Amazon), calling his name. I’d be inside, gently nudging him towards the opening. He’d get right up to the edge, sniff the air, and then turn around and sit down, staring at us expectantly. It was infuriating. Teddy, meanwhile, would just stroll out, grab the treat from my husband, and stroll back in, making Georgie look even more ridiculous. Georgie has a severe case of little dog syndrome and thinks he’s the leader of the pack, so this really got to him.
What Actually Worked (and How Long It Took)
It took about three weeks of consistent effort for Georgie to finally get it. And by “get it,” I mean stop treating it like a portal to Hades. Here’s what finally clicked, and it wasn’t some fancy product or technique, just persistence and understanding Georgie’s weird little brain:
- The “Gentle Push” Method: Taping the flap open helped for Teddy, but Georgie needed more. Instead of just luring him, we had to physically guide him. One person would be outside with the treats. The other person would gently but firmly push Georgie from behind, just enough so his head went through the opening. Once his head was through, the person outside would immediately give him a treat and praise him like he’d just won the Westminster Dog Show. We did this maybe 5-6 times a day for a few days. The key was to make sure it wasn’t scary, just a gentle nudge.
- Gradual Flap Lowering: Once he was comfortable with the open hole, we started lowering the flap slightly. Not all the way down, just enough so he had to push it with his nose a little. Again, treats and massive praise for every tiny step. This was a slow process. We’d lower it a quarter of the way for a day or two, then halfway, then three-quarters.
- Teddy’s Influence (the good kind): Honestly, seeing Teddy go in and out probably helped more than anything we did. Georgie is super competitive, especially with Teddy, who he secretly adores but outwardly despises. When Teddy would trot through the flap like it was nothing, Georgie would watch him with intense scrutiny. I think part of him just didn’t want to be shown up by his goofy brother.
- Patience, Patience, Patience: This is the hardest part. You’ll want to pull your hair out. You’ll question all your life choices. But you have to be consistent and not get frustrated. If you get frustrated, they pick up on it. Georgie would just shut down if he sensed any impatience from us.
All in all, from installation to Georgie confidently using the door independently, it took us about a full month and a half. For Georgie, the “wolf,” it was a monumental achievement. Teddy, bless his heart, was in and out on day one. So, what to expect? Expect it to take longer than you think, especially if your dog has opinions about everything like Georgie.
Now, Georgie breezes through that door like he owns the place. He still gives us a look when he comes back in, as if to say, “I graciously permitted myself to use your silly contraption.” And sometimes, if Teddy is in the way, Georgie will just stand there and bark until Teddy moves. He’s still Georgie, after all. But no more frantic whines during my work calls, which is a win in my book.
If I had to do it again, I’d still get the dog door, but I’d mentally prepare for a longer training period.