As a force-free trainer, I spend a lot of time preparing treats: hot dogs, cheddar cheese, meatballs, string cheese, turkey, ham… My knives get a workout.

Yesterday, I had a dog-reactive client on the schedule, and we were graduating to a new level of difficulty in our training plan. That meant I needed to level up the caliber of treats as well. Time to bust out the rotisserie chicken!

As I tore the moist, glistening meat into bite-sized morsels, I became inspired. I dedicate this poem to Loki, Niko, and rotisserie chicken-loving reactive dogs everywhere.

“Ode to Rotisserie Chicken, Patron Saint of Reactive Dogs”

Oh chicken, my chicken,

I smell you in pouch.

My human, she wears it,

Then sits on the couch.

I watch her forever –

No chicken receive!

My drool, it is dangle.

I get up and leave.

It time for the walkies.

My harness, it click.

My toes tippy-tap, as

I do my touch trick.

There so many sniffies

And smellies to track.

Check in with my human.

She give me a snack.

But what that approaching?

A doggy is near!

My human get happy,


Oh chicken, my chicken!

My tummy feel glad,

And tell me that maybe

That dog not so bad.