If you’ve followed Leo’s journey, you’ll know that reactivity hasn’t always been easy.

Over the years we’ve used different tools, different approaches, and countless repetitions of the same expectations. Some things worked well for a while, some things stopped working and some things needed to be revisited later.

This week reminded me of an important lesson:

Training isn’t static. It’s fluid.

A while ago I stopped carrying my air corrector. It had become almost obsolete. Leo didn’t seem to care much about it anymore, and we had moved on to other tools and strategies.

Like many reactive dogs, Leo is smart. Sometimes a tool works beautifully for a period of time, and then he learns to push through it. That’s not unusual. It doesn’t mean training failed. It simply means the conversation has changed.

Out of curiosity, I put a fresh CO₂ cartridge in my handheld air corrector and decided to try it again.

The first test happened at Zoe’s soccer game.

Normally, people walking close to our vehicle or dogs moving along the nearby trail would be enough to put Leo on alert. When he noticed a trigger and started gearing up to react, I gave a quick burst of air behind us.

Not at him.

Not in his face.

Just enough to interrupt the moment.

He stopped.

Looked at me – Looked back at the dog – Looked back at me again.

And then… nothing.

No barking.

No explosion.

Just thinking.

We celebrated that choice and rewarded the quiet.

A few repetitions later, I didn’t even need to use the air. He was already checking in with me.

What an unexpected breakthrough!!!!!!!

The next day brought an even bigger challenge.

We arrived home to a neighbourhood full of activity. Kids were running and screaming. Adults were outside. The ice cream truck was making its rounds. Normally, that amount of movement and noise would have put Leo on high alert.

I opened the van door, clipped on the leash, and prepared for another training opportunity.

Almost immediately, some running children caught his attention.

His body stiffened.

His hackles rose.

The familiar pattern was beginning.

I gave a quick spray behind me.

Instantly he stopped looking at the kids and looked at me.

“You’re fine. Let’s go.”

That was it.

We calmly walked toward the house.

No leash battle – No pulling – No prong correction – No e-collar stimulation – Just communication.

Several times along the way I noticed him scanning the environment, but instead of escalating, he checked back in with me.

Eye contact.

Connection.

Decision-making.

We made it all the way home without an episode. Another Unexpected Breakthrough.

Once inside, we celebrated. We played some tug. Life moved on.

And honestly?

I was proud.

Not because of the air corrector.

Because of Leo.

This experience reminded me that tools come and go, sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. And sometimes an old tool becomes useful again.

The rules and expectations don’t change.

The way we communicate them sometimes does.

Training is a lot like a river.

Sometimes you’re navigating rapids.

Sometimes you’re floating through calm water.

The river is always moving.

The dog is always changing.

The handler is always learning.

Our job isn’t to force the river to stay the same.

It’s to read it, navigate it, and keep moving forward.

That’s exactly what Leo and I are doing.