In my previous article, I talked about how the L.E.G.S.® framework helped me understand both my son with autism and the “difficult” dogs I work with. Today, I want to share another powerful parallel: the difference between drilling commands and teaching skills that generalize across contexts.
The “But They Know It at Home!” Problem
Here’s something that happened constantly when my son was growing up: We’d practice greeting people at home. He’d do great. Then we’d go to the grocery store and… nothing. It’s like he’d never learned it.
Every dog owner out there is nodding right now, aren’t they?
I experience the exact same thing with Rosco. He can be relatively calm in the house. We go outside and encounter another dog on the street? That’s a completely different story. His nervous system kicks into high gear.
Here’s the thing: Just like my son wasn’t being stubborn when he couldn’t apply “hello to Mr. Vines” to greeting his classmates, Rosco genuinely doesn’t automatically transfer what he’s learned in one environment to another—especially when his stress level changes.
Kids with autism often struggle with generalization—they might know how to respond to “hello” but have no idea what to do when someone says “hi,” “what’s up,” or “hey there.” They might make a perfect sandwich at home, but can’t figure it out if the bread is different.
Dogs are exactly the same. They’re contextual creatures. Learning to sit for three seconds in the kitchen when the house is quiet is not the same as sitting in a crowded outdoor shopping center.
This is the Learning piece of L.E.G.S.® in action—understanding that learning doesn’t automatically transfer between contexts, especially under stress.
The Command-Drilling Trap
When I first started working with Rosco’s reactivity, I’d practice the same response in controlled situations until he “got it.” Living room with treats, same time of day, me standing in the same place.
I was making the same mistake well-meaning people made with my son—treating the behavior like a switch that just needed to be flipped, rather than a skill that needed to be built across multiple contexts.
Dogs trained this way become reluctant to try anything new and aren’t good at problem-solving. They learn that the safest thing to do is wait to be told exactly what to do. I was seeing this with Rosco—he’d look to me helplessly in triggering situations, waiting for explicit instructions, because I’d never taught him how to think through his big feelings.
What Changed Everything: Teaching Generalization
My son’s therapists taught me about generalization—intentionally changing variables each time we practiced. Different rooms. Different people. Different times of day. Stand here, then stand there. These small changes help kids with autism learn to handle differences and prepare them for the real world where things are never exactly the same.
I started applying these same generalization concepts with Rosco, and suddenly I could see the shift beginning.
This wasn’t just about the Learning part of L.E.G.S.® anymore—it was recognizing that Environment changes everything. A skill only becomes truly learned when it generalizes across environments and under different levels of stress.
Real Example: Working Through Rosco’s Door-Bolting
Command-drilling approach (what I used to do):
- Make Rosco sit at the door
- Tell him when he could go through
- Only worked when I was there giving commands in a calm moment
- The second I got distracted or he was excited? He’d shoot out.
Generalization approach (what we’re building now):
- Rosco is learning the concept: “When doors open, I pause and check in”
- We practice at every door in the house
- We practice when I’m excited, calm, carrying groceries, talking on the phone
- Rosco is starting to figure out: “Oh, staying calm gets me outside”
Is it perfect? Nope. Some days are better than others. When he’s really excited or stressed, we back up and make it easier. But he’s learning to think about what to do rather than just waiting for me to tell him.
Just like my son needed to understand the concept of greeting people (not just memorize “say hello to Mr. Vines”), Rosco needs to understand concepts too—and that takes time, especially for a nervous dog.
Honoring the Individual (The “Self” Part of L.E.G.S.®)
When dogs figure out “what works” on their own instead of just being told what to do, the training lasts way longer and is much more solid.
With Rosco, this means understanding his unique mix of genetics—that terrier independence, the lab sensitivity, the poodle smarts—all wrapped up with a nervous system that gets overwhelmed easily. I have to work with who he is, not against it.
So instead of drilling commands, I’m teaching concepts (slowly, at his pace):
- Instead of “sit when I say sit” → “calm behavior gets you what you want”
- Instead of “come when called” → “checking in with me keeps you safe”
- Instead of “don’t lunge at other dogs” → “look at me when you’re nervous and good things happen”
Some days we take two steps forward. Some days we take one step back. That’s where the individualized approach matters—and where patience matters even more.
Making It Work: The Practical Stuff
1. Start in multiple places, but at their threshold
I don’t throw Rosco into situations he can’t handle. We practice in different rooms, different times of day, gradually adding distance to triggers—working right at the edge of what he can handle, not way over it.
2. Change one thing at a time (very slowly)
Once Rosco started responding to “look at me” at home, I tried it at the window. Then in the front yard. Then on the sidewalk at a distance from triggers. Little changes build generalization—but rushing it sets us back.
3. Make it WAY easier when you add something hard
When we see another dog on our walks (a huge trigger), I create as much distance as possible and go back to basics—just getting him to glance at me earns a jackpot.
4. Reward trying, not just succeeding
When Rosco is tense but doesn’t lunge? That’s a win. When he barks but then looks at me for encouragement? I celebrate. Progress isn’t linear. Last week, Rosco saw another dog across the street and stayed (mostly) calm, just tense. Yesterday, a dog surprised us and he lunged. But he recovered faster than he used to, and he checked in with me afterward. That’s progress, even if it doesn’t look “finished.”
The Real Magic: Understanding Over Control
Both raising my son and working with Rosco have taught me the same lesson: relationship and understanding trump forced compliance every time.
When we approach both our dogs and our neurodivergent kids with curiosity rather than judgment, everything changes. “What are you trying to tell me?” becomes more important than “Why won’t you just do what I ask?”
Whether it’s my son or Rosco (or Rei, or any of the reactive rescues I’ve helped), they’re all doing their best with the wiring they have. Our job isn’t to fight against that wiring—it’s to work with it, teaching real skills that generalize across contexts and building genuine understanding.
That’s not spoiling. That’s not lowering expectations. That’s smart, compassionate teaching that honors how learning actually works—and that respects the reality that some brains and nervous systems need more time, more patience, and more practice.
When I watch my son now—successfully navigating school, work, relationships—I see someone who learned how to think through situations, not just memorize responses. It took years. There were setbacks. But he got there because we taught him skills that generalized.
When I watch Rosco now, I see the same journey in progress. He’s not “fixed”—he’s learning. When we saw a dog at a distance and Rosco tensed up immediately—but instead of immediately lunging and barking, he looked at me first. He was still tense, still nervous, but he checked in. When I told him “it’s okay, you’re safe,” he took a breath. That’s the skill generalizing, even if imperfectly.
Start Where You Are
Pick one thing you’ve been working on with your dog. Now practice it:
- In three different rooms
- With you in different positions
- At different times of day
- With small distractions, then bigger ones (very gradually)
Watch what happens when your dog starts to figure out: “Oh! This works in more than one place!”
With Rosco, it’s happening in small flickers. But each time he chooses to look at me instead of lunging, each time he responds to my encouragement that he’s safe, each time he recovers a little faster—those are moments when I can see the skill generalizing, even if we’re not “there” yet.
And that’s what the L.E.G.S.® framework keeps reminding me: when we understand Learning, Environment, Genetics, and Self, we stop fighting against who our dogs (and kids) are, and start helping them become the best version of themselves—whatever timeline that takes.
Rosco isn’t a “perfect” dog. My son isn’t a “typical” adult. But they’re both capable individuals who are learning to navigate their worlds because they’re learning how to think, not just how to comply. That journey—messy and nonlinear as it is—is more meaningful than any quick fix ever could be.
Leave a Reply