Why I Refuse to Use Prong Collars and E-Collars

There are a lot of arguments around prong collars and electronic collars.

Some people will tell you they're cruel.

Some people will tell you they're indispensable.

Some people will tell you their dog “loves” the e-collar.

Somebody somewhere will inevitably enter the comments section with a 14-paragraph manifesto explaining that I'm using all of these tools incorrectly despite never having met me.

Welcome to dog training.

So before we go any further, let me say something that may surprise people who expect this to be an anti-tool rant:

I know these tools can work.

They can work very quickly.

That's actually part of why I don't use them.

My problem isn't that I don't believe a prong collar can stop a dog from pulling.

It can.

My problem isn't that I don't believe an electronic collar can interrupt a behavior.

It can.

My problem is what we're teaching in the process—and whether we're building communication or simply finding a faster way around it.

For me, that's an important distinction.

Fast Doesn't Necessarily Mean Good

Let's say I have a dog who pulls relentlessly on leash.

I could put a prong collar on the dog, allow the dog to create pressure, and suddenly pulling becomes significantly less comfortable.

Problem solved?

Sort of.

The leash probably looks better.

But what have we actually accomplished?

Have I taught the dog how to move with me?

Have I taught them to check in?

Have we established communication through the leash?

Have I figured out what motivates the dog?

Have I learned what causes them to disconnect from the handler?

Has the dog learned how to make good decisions around distractions?

Or did I simply make the wrong decision unpleasant enough that they stopped making it?

Those aren't necessarily the same thing.

And this is where my issue begins.

I see these tools as shortcuts in communication.

Sometimes, extremely effective shortcuts.

But shortcuts nonetheless.

I'd rather take the time to develop a language between the dog and the person holding the leash.

That language shouldn't disappear because we forgot to charge something overnight.

The Problem I Have With Prong Collars

I'll start with the obvious part.

A prong collar works by creating concentrated pressure around the dog's neck.

People will debate endlessly over whether that constitutes “pain,” “pressure,” “discomfort,” or whatever word happens to make them feel best about using it.

I'm honestly not particularly interested in the semantic argument.

The dog changes its behavior because the sensation is something the dog wants to avoid.

That's the point.

Otherwise, it wouldn't work.

And yes, I use aversion in dog training.

I've never pretended otherwise.

Sometimes I tell a dog to knock it off.

Sometimes I interrupt behavior.

Sometimes I physically prevent a dog from doing something.

Sometimes there are consequences for bad choices.

Aversive doesn't automatically mean abusive.

But I want the disagreement between me and the dog to be as clear, fair, controlled, and understandable as possible.

That's where the prong collar loses me.

The Aversive Is Always There

One of my biggest issues with a prong collar is that the corrective mechanism lives on the dog's neck for the entire walk.

Every leash movement matters.

You move your hand.

Pressure.

The dog changes direction unexpectedly.

Pressure.

You trip over a curb because apparently sidewalks are an extreme sport now.

Pressure.

The dog stops to smell something.

Pressure.

The leash gets caught around your leg.

Pressure.

Another dog runs up.

Pressure.

Your timing can be perfect.

Your timing can also be terrible.

The collar doesn't know the difference.

That's what I mean when I say the feedback can become inconsistent.

If I'm trying to communicate something specific to a dog, I want the dog to have a reasonable chance of understanding exactly what behavior produced the consequence.

When the aversive is mechanically attached to every change in leash tension, it becomes less precise.

Then There Is the Neck

Another reason I don't like prong collars is simply anatomical.

We're putting repeated concentrated pressure around the dog's neck.

That is where we have the trachea, cervical structures, soft tissue, nerves, and other things I'd generally prefer not to use as a control panel.

Can a prong collar be used without immediately injuring a dog?

Of course.

Plenty of dogs wear them without obvious injury.

That's not the standard I'm interested in.

“Probably won't hurt the dog if used correctly” isn't a compelling enough benefit for me when I can accomplish the same training without one.

And I'm especially not interested in the argument:

“Well, a flat collar can damage the trachea too.”

Correct.

So can repeatedly hanging a dog from the end of a leash.

That's an argument for teaching leash communication properly.

Not an argument for adding metal points.

Prong Collars and Other Dogs

There's another practical issue that gets overlooked.

Dogs use their mouths when they play.

They grab necks.

They grab collars.

They wrestle.

They make choices that would get humans banned from most restaurants.

Now put a metal prong collar around one dog's neck and introduce another dog who likes grabbing collars during play.

You've just created a piece of equipment that can catch teeth, lips, jaws, skin, or another dog's collar.

Could you remove it before play?

Absolutely.

But that's another example of why I don't want the tool to become foundational.

If the dog can only maintain the expected behavior while wearing the specialized equipment, then I haven't finished teaching the behavior.

I've taught dependency on equipment.

E-Collars Bother Me for a Different Reason

Electronic collars bother me less because of the physical object itself and more because of where the communication comes from.

With an e-collar, the dog feels something.

But it doesn't come from me physically.

It comes from a device around their neck.

That distinction matters to me.

If I'm working a dog and I communicate through my leash, movement, body position, voice, timing, and reinforcement, I'm creating an interaction.

The dog learns me.

I learn the dog.

There's a feedback loop.

With an electronic collar, we've inserted a remote control into the conversation.

And yes, someone will say:

“But the remote is just another communication tool.”

Fair argument.

It is.

It's just not one I want my communication dependent upon.

Because batteries die.

Remotes get forgotten.

Collars get left at home.

Signals fail.

Distances change.

Technology has an incredible ability to stop working exactly when you need it most.

Ask anyone who has ever tried to screen-share during a Zoom meeting.

What Happens When the Collar Isn't There?

This is probably my biggest philosophical issue.

If your dog's recall is reliable because they're anticipating an electronic correction when they ignore you, what happens when they're naked?

No collar.

No charge.

No signal.

No consequence from the device.

Has the dog developed a strong enough relationship with the handler, reinforcement history, success rate, and understanding of the cue that they still respond?

Maybe.

Good trainers using those tools will absolutely build those things too.

I'm not suggesting every e-collar trainer simply presses a button until the dog behaves.

But my question becomes:

If I need to build all of those other components anyway, why do I need the collar?

I'd rather make the communication itself strong enough.

“But It's Just Vibration”

This is another conversation I hear frequently.

Some electronic collars offer vibration, tone and electrical stimulation, and some people primarily use vibration rather than stimulation.

But vibration isn't automatically neutral.

If the dog is changing behavior because they want the vibration to stop or avoid it happening again, it is functioning as an aversive.

That doesn't magically make it evil.

It just means we should call it what it is.

And there is something else about remote aversives that concerns me.

Association.

Dogs are incredibly good at making associations.

They're not always good at making the association we intended.

Suppose a dog is staring at another dog.

The handler activates the collar.

The dog experiences an unpleasant sensation.

What caused it?

From our perspective:

“You ignored my command.”

From the dog's perspective?

Possibly:

“That dog caused this.”

Or:

“That kid running past caused this.”

Or:

“Every time another dog gets close, something unpleasant happens to me.”

That's not an association I want accidentally entering the equation when I'm already working with fear, reactivity, or aggression.

Redirection Is a Real Concern for Me

This becomes particularly important around dogs who are already highly aroused.

Imagine a reactive dog staring intensely at another dog.

They're wound up.

Frustrated.

Over threshold.

Then an aversive stimulus suddenly occurs.

Where does that frustration go?

Sometimes nowhere.

Sometimes the dog disengages.

Great.

But there is also the possibility that the dog redirects that frustration toward whatever is nearby.

Another dog.

The handler.

A child.

Someone reaching toward them.

When I'm working aggression cases, I'm already managing enough variables.

I don't need to introduce another one unless I genuinely believe it's necessary.

And I don't.

“But I Get Faster Results”

This is probably the argument I care about least.

Because I get fast results too.

I can make dramatic improvements in leash behavior using a properly fitted harness, a six-foot leash, movement, timing, and communication.

Often very quickly.

The difference is I'm not asking the dog to behave because they're trying to avoid equipment.

I'm building a conversation.

Where are you relative to me?

What does leash pressure mean?

What happens when you check in?

What happens when you pull?

What earns access?

What earns distance?

What earns freedom?

What gets you the thing you want?

Dogs are remarkably good at figuring this stuff out.

We just have to stop communicating like confused tourists pointing at a menu.

Drive Matters

One of the most overlooked parts of dog training is figuring out what the dog actually wants.

Food?

Play?

Movement?

Affection?

Access?

Smelling?

Another dog?

Space?

Possession of an object?

People often tell me:

“My dog isn't motivated.”

Yes, they are.

They're alive.

Something motivates them.

They just may not care about the dry biscuit you've been waving around for twenty minutes.

Part of training is discovering the dog's currency.

Once I understand what drives the dog, I have leverage without relying on specialized corrective equipment.

Trust Matters Too

I work with a lot of dogs who already don't trust people very much.

Fearful dogs.

Dogs who have been bounced between homes.

Dogs who have learned to defend themselves.

Dogs who expect conflict.

With those dogs especially, I care deeply about the relationship we're building.

I want them learning:

This person is predictable.

This person means what they say.

This person will advocate for me.

This person will also stop me when I'm making a bad decision.

Those things can coexist.

Trust doesn't mean the dog gets to do whatever they want.

Respect doesn't mean I'm trying to scare the dog.

And leadership doesn't require a hardware upgrade.

Respect Is Not Fear

This distinction matters.

I want dogs to respect boundaries.

I want them to understand disagreement.

I want them to be capable of accepting “no.”

I don't believe every behavioral problem can be solved by continuously feeding a dog until everybody feels positive about the experience.

But I also don't confuse compliance with understanding.

A dog who stops because they're afraid of what happens next may look beautifully obedient.

That doesn't necessarily tell me what is happening internally.

My goal is not simply:

Make the behavior disappear.

My goal is:

Create a dog who understands what we want, understands what we don't want, trusts the person communicating those things, and succeeds often enough that the better behavior becomes natural.

That takes more thought.

Fine.

I'm okay with that.

Equipment Should Help Communication, Not Replace It

I use equipment.

Harnesses.

Leashes.

Long lines.

Crates.

Muzzles.

Barriers.

Food.

Toys.

Treat pouches.

I'm not anti-tool.

I am against allowing the tool to become the reason the dog listens.

A muzzle improves safety.

A crate provides structure and management.

A harness gives me physical connection without concentrating force around the neck.

A long line lets me work recall safely before I'm willing to gamble the dog's life on it.

Those tools create opportunities for communication.

They aren't communicating on my behalf.

That's the distinction I care about.

Could I Use a Prong Collar or E-Collar Effectively?

Probably.

I've been doing this long enough that I'm confident I could learn to use either one with good timing.

That's not the point.

I also know I don't need them.

And once I've decided I don't need something that introduces additional risks, additional dependency, and additional potential for misunderstanding, the decision becomes fairly simple.

I don't use it.

This Isn't About Joining a Training Religion

Dog training has become weirdly tribal.

Positive-only.

Balanced.

Force-free.

Traditional.

Modern.

Everybody gets a jersey, and apparently we're supposed to fight in the parking lot afterward.

I'm not particularly interested.

I use reinforcement constantly.

I also use boundaries.

I use consequences.

I use aversion when appropriate.

I interrupt dogs.

I tell them no.

I expect them to learn rules.

And I don't use prong collars or electronic collars.

Those positions aren't contradictory.

They're simply the result of deciding how I want to communicate with dogs.

The Shortcut Isn't Worth It to Me

That's really what all of this comes down to.

Can these tools create results?

Yes.

Can talented trainers use them more thoughtfully than terrible trainers?

Absolutely.

Are there people who swear they transformed their dog?

Of course.

I'm not arguing that the equipment is incapable of producing behavior change.

I'm saying I don't think the shortcut gives me anything I can't achieve another way.

And the other way gives me something I value much more:

communication.

I want to understand what motivates the dog.

I want the dog to understand me.

I want us to build trust.

I want enough repetition that success becomes predictable.

I want the handler to learn timing.

I want the dog to learn how to make better decisions.

I want the leash to become information instead of punishment.

I want behavior to hold up when the equipment changes.

And ultimately, I want the person living with the dog to become a better communicator—not a better remote-control operator.

You Don't Need It

If someone tells you your dog is too strong, too aggressive, too stubborn, too driven or too difficult to train without a prong collar or e-collar, I disagree.

I've worked with plenty of large, powerful, reactive, and aggressive dogs.

I don't need those tools to establish control.

I need:

good timing

good handling

clear communication

appropriate management

motivation

structure

trust

consistency

repetition

and enough humility to change my approach when the dog tells me something isn't working.

Sometimes that takes longer.

Frequently, it doesn't.

But either way, I would rather spend my time building communication than looking for a faster way around it.

Because eventually the leash comes off.

The equipment comes off.

The battery dies.

The dog goes home.

And what's left is the relationship.

That's the part I actually want to train.

— Spencer Williams

Cultured Hounds

Behavior, Refined.