When a small dog decides she's a big dog

Biscuit is six pounds of terrier energy in a Brooklyn third-floor walk-up. She has decided, with the certainty of someone who has read no books on the subject, that the front door is hers to defend. The UPS driver knows. The neighbour's golden retriever — twelve times Biscuit's weight — knows. Most importantly, Biscuit knows.

We took the question to the behaviorists at the Sound + Sit clinic, who pointed out that the gap between a small dog's body and a small dog's self-image is rarely about size at all. It's about whether the dog has had to learn that the world is mostly fine without her vigilance. Many haven't.

The fix, in their experience, is not to scold the door-guarding. Scolding teaches the dog that the door is, in fact, a place where bad things happen — which is exactly the model she's already running. The fix is to make the door boring. Reward the quiet seconds. Treat the calm walk-by.

We tried it for two weeks. Biscuit still barks. But the gap between the doorbell and the silence is shorter now, and the silence — when it comes — looks more like a dog who has remembered that the apartment is, mostly, a safe place.