
Words by Steve Duno, pet behaviorist
🐾🐾EASY DIFFICULTY


Words by Steve Duno, pet behaviorist
Guinness World Records just handed the 'oldest dog alive' badge to a Chihuahua who goes by TobyKeith—he clocked in at 21 years and 66 days. The magic formula? One walk a day and a chunk of turkey.
Gisela Shore, a Greenacres, Florida local, brought TobyKeith home—he used to answer to Peanut Butter—when he was still a little puppy. An older couple had phoned Peggy Adams Animal Rescue League hoping to give up their Chihuahua pup. Shore, who volunteers there, stopped by to size up the situation and fell hard for the pocket-sized pooch—'It was love at first sight'—renaming the then two-pound Chihuahua after the musician.
Since then TobyKeith has stood by his pet parent through a breakup and a fresh marriage, and has said hello to every foster animal Shore takes in—150-plus so far. He also treats rescue dogs Lala and Luna, together with two parrots, Coco and Coqui, as his crew.
'People are stunned at how good he looks for his age,' says Shore, who credits TobyKeith's wellbeing to a home full of love, exercise, a clean menu (chicken, rice, veggies), and not a single sugary bite.
To mark the moment TobyKeith dug into a carrot muffin—his top treat—and rolled out for a car ride. 'He's wild about car rides, so that's what we did to celebrate,' Shore says.
I’ll be honest: just about everyone on my street has, at some point, nearly lost it over these dogs, who break into a bay, a howl, or a full-throated chorus at the mere rustle of a pinecone. And the moment one starts, the rest treats it as an open invitation. When that happens it sounds less like a pack of dogs and more like a middle-school band on espresso attempting the William Tell Overture. You want to yank out a tooth. You want to rain cosmic vengeance. It is… deeply annoying.
Why do dogs bark? Because biology built them to. Barking is how they warn the crew that something’s up, how one dog tells another to back off the food bowl or invites a game. It signals a smell worth noting, or plaints “I’m bored,” “when’s dinner,” or “it started raining, let me in.” It’s their voice, their language.
Yet just as some people never stop talking, some dogs never stop barking—and without meaning to, we can fan the flames. Those neighbour dogs basically live outdoors, a little self-run committee with almost no guidance, structure, or training. With little else to do, they entertain themselves. So when one spots a kid coasting by on a bike, he sounds off, and when the kid vanishes down the road, he congratulates himself for scaring the threat away. Every bike, every mail carrier, every leaf-blower becomes another self-rewarding win.
That’s how an unsupervised barker is created. Add four or five other dogs to the mix—maybe a Beagle or two with barking in their DNA—and you get a daily, relentless amen chorus. With nobody there to redirect it, the habit becomes a comfort, a mantra, almost a reason for being. Sure, the odd complaint floats around, but what are we neighbours supposed to do? The owner’s a decent sort, and the dogs are fine—except when they’re staging their opera. Calling animal control could mean fines or a dog losing its home. We lose sleep, but we’re not quite that heartless. Yet.

Photo courtesy of Photo: Kisa_Markiza
First, don’t keep a pack of more than two dogs, especially if you’re new to dog ownership. Run a household of four, five, or six and you’re all but guaranteeing one picks up a barking habit that spreads to the rest like fleas. If you do want several, add them one at a time. Train your first dog well, with solid house manners so she isn’t parked outside all day. Teach her to be calm and content indoors—which is where you actually want her when you’re out, guarding the place. A dog in the yard can only shout at a burglar; she can’t do much else. Close the blinds so she can’t clock every passerby. Leave talk radio or soft classical on. Dog-proof the house so she won’t shred it. Make her a great indoor dog. Then, a couple of years later, bring in a puppy who can model that good behaviour. And so on.
Keep blinds drawn so your dogs can’t watch people stroll past the windows.
A huge part of cutting barking comes down to training. A dog who is well-trained and responsive is simply more confident, which means less reason to bark out worry or fear. Another big lever is spending time out in the yard with him, so he learns the space is yours too—and that carrying on out there is not on the menu (unless a raccoon, bear, or Bigfoot drops by).
If your schedule forces a dog outside for stretches, build a fenced, concrete-floored run out back with minimal sightlines to neighbours or activity. But understand: the more at-home he feels in the yard without you, the more likely he is to bark. Without you there to interrupt it, the habit rewards itself, and that’s that.
If you’re not there to interrupt the habit, it rewards itself, and that’s that.
I’m no fan of bark collars. I once strapped on an old-school shock collar and barked into it just to feel what a dog gets—cranked up high, it’s genuinely unpleasant. The newer low-static versions are milder, like a cheeky carpet zap from a friend, but still not exactly pleasant.
Citronella spray collars have worked for me now and then—a little spritz to the nose each time he barks—but they fall apart on the heavy barker and break easily. And debarking? That’s mutilation, and it doesn’t even touch the urge. Nothing’s sadder than a debarked dog wheezing out that muffled, pitiful hack around the clock.
The best guidance is to stop barking before it begins. Don’t leave dogs outdoors all day. Teach solid house manners. Train, train, train. Build respect and trust in your leadership. Socialize and walk to grow confidence. Keep the pack under three. If he starts up in front of you, meet his eyes and say NO, QUIET—and if needed, a plant-mister squirt to the snout does the trick.
And if none of that lands, well—just hope that distant star keeps shining steady.
Add one small distraction at a time, and reward the brave choices.
Keep sessions short and always end on a success your dog is proud of.
Hold one treat at your dog's nose level and let the smell do the talking.
Say the cue once, clearly, in a happy voice - then wait.
The instant the wanted behavior happens, mark it with a cheerful Yes!
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