I'm just back from running with my dog Renzo. We did a longish, relaxed jog down the dirt path that hugs the Burke Gilman Trail, just north of Matthews Beach. A former sled dog, Renzo is an excellent running companion. He lopes along a few paces in front of me in sync with my pace, rarely pulling the leash or veering onto the paved bicycle route. When we finish these outings, I always feel like we are contented and in alignment.

But today's run was marred by a five-second interaction. Late in our outing, we passed a man running with a pair of shiny black Labrador retrievers in the opposite direction. Renzo pulled into the middle of the trail for a closer look, until I called him back to our side of the trail. But one of the Labs -- curious or frightened, perhaps -- stopped short. I heard the man shout, so I looked back. The stop must have tangled the leashes or tripped up the runner, because he turned on the now-cowering dog and swatted the pup's nose with surprising force. I was shocked.

I'm no behaviorist, but I know enough about dogs to realize that swat isn't going to correct any behavior. I'm guessing the runner was frustrated and maybe tired. I've been there. My Lab-Husky thinks jogs are an opportunity to sniff and mark every blade of grass. If I head out expecting smooth sailing, I'll get frustrated as well.

The experience reminded me how far dog training has come in my lifetime. If this had been the 1970s or '80s, I probably wouldn't have been so rattled by that hit. I grew up in a time when rolled-up newspapers and smacks on the nose were as common as dogs roaming busy streets off-leash. But times they are a changing. Positive training methods -- using treats and clickers and affirmation -- have become widely accepted and expected. The bad old ways are disappearing (I hope) because not only are they cruel, they are ineffective.

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