This past weekend my husband and I saw the film Whiplash. The story centers around a teenage music student whose teacher is…well, I can’t really print the words that would accurately describe him. But at one point the student, a drummer, is asked to play solo a few bars of a piece the group has been working on. “That’s not my tempo!” the teacher yells. The boy tries again. “Not my tempo!” the man barks. And so it goes. After a number of tries there is blood on the boy’s hands, and the despotic instructor just keeps yelling.

What does this have to do with dogs? Well, consider the way the teacher reprimands the boy. Does “Not my tempo!” give the drummer any concrete information? It certainly tells him that he’s got it wrong; but beyond that, there is nothing useful to work from. Given that the man couldn’t…