How to Train a Chihuahua
Some dogs were born to chase. Some were born to guard. Some were born to herd.
The Chihuahua was born for none of these.
He was born to warm a bed.
Not as a joke. Not as a metaphor. A thousand years ago, in the mountains of Mexico, when the temperature dropped below freezing at night, humans discovered that a small dog with a fast metabolism could be the difference between sleeping warm and shivering until morning. Three Chihuahuas in one bed, and the temperature rose by several degrees. Like a hot water bottle, but one that breathes and curls and seeks your warmth.
This is not a cute origin story. This is the key to understanding the smallest dog in the world.
Because the Chihuahua is not a miniature version of a normal dog. It was not bred to be carried in a purse. It was born to be close. Next to you. Inside the house, inside the bed, inside your life. When you understand this — you understand everything.
His history begins long before Mexico.
About 10,000 years ago, the first dogs crossed the Bering land bridge from Siberia into the Americas. They entered a completely new continent and were isolated from all other dogs in the world for roughly 9,000 years. No contact. No crossbreeding. No European "breed improvement." They simply evolved on their own, alongside the humans of the Americas.
Today, when you look at a Chihuahua, you are looking at one of the last remnants of those dogs. A 2020 genetic study showed that about 4% of Chihuahua DNA is ancient, pre-Columbian — DNA that no European breed carries. An earlier 2013 study estimated it as high as 70%. Four percent does not sound like much. But in dog genetics — where almost every breed traces back to Europe — four percent is a gold vein. The Chihuahua carries DNA that no German Shepherd, no Labrador, no Poodle has. It is the last voice of a lost canine world.
Its ancient ancestor, the Techichi, was a small, silent dog. Literally. According to historical accounts, the Techichi could not bark. It was a mute dog, weighing 10-20 pounds, with a long coat and solid body — much larger than the modern Chihuahua. The Toltec people, who inhabited central Mexico in the 9th century CE, kept it as a companion. Clay figurines found in shaft tombs in Colima, western Mexico, from about 1,700 years ago, show round-bodied little dogs with perked ears. Not toys. Not decoration. Companions.
When the Techichi died, its owners did not discard it. They buried it alongside their dead — sometimes hundreds of dogs in a single tomb. They believed the dog would cross the nine rivers of the underworld with its owner and guide them on their final journey. Not the role of a pet. The role of a soul guide.
The Aztecs, who followed the Toltecs around the 12th century, continued and deepened this tradition. They believed that a yellow dog — yellow being the color of death in Aztec culture — was the one that would lead the dead. In their codices, the Magliabechiano manuscript shows small dogs beside human figures in burial ceremonies. A yellow dog with a loose cotton cord around its neck. Its job: to carry its dead owner across the nine rivers of Mictlan, the Aztec underworld.
The Aztecs also used these dogs as bed warmers. Literally. In the high plains of Mexico, night temperatures could drop sharply. A small animal with a high metabolism under a blanket is a natural heat source. The idea of a "healing dog" did not start in any New Age culture. It started on cold nights in 14th century Mexico, with a small dog curling close to your belly.
Then came 1521. The Spanish conquered Tenochtitlan. The Aztec empire fell. The conquerors brought European dogs — large dogs, herders, hunters — that interbred with the local dogs. Within a generation or two, the Techichi as a distinct breed nearly disappeared. Archaeological records show a dramatic decline in the presence of small dogs in burial sites after the conquest.
But not all of them vanished. Some fled to the northern mountains, the deserts, the remote villages of Chihuahua state in northern Mexico. There, in relative isolation, they continued living with people who hid from the conquerors — sometimes crossing with the native hairless Xoloitzcuintli, which created the smaller, lighter body of the modern Chihuahua. For 300 years they developed there, out of sight, until curious Americans rediscovered them around 1850.
In 1904, the American Kennel Club registered its first Chihuahua. Its name was Midget. It belonged to a woman from Texas. A year later, only five more were registered. At that time, a real Chihuahua was so rare and expensive — up to 4,000 dollars in the 1940s, about 52,000 dollars today — that people faked them. They raised puppies from other breeds, shaved them down to the characteristic coat, and sold them as Chihuahuas to unsuspecting tourists at Mexican train stations. Even then, popularity was creating problems.
But today's popularity is a different kind of problem.
Because when a breed becomes popular, people start breeding it without understanding it. And when you don't understand a Chihuahua — you hurt it. Not on purpose. But the damage is real.
The image of the Chihuahua in popular culture is about as grotesque as it is wrong: a tiny dog with a bow on its head, sitting in a rich woman's purse, trembling from the cold. That is how the Chihuahua looks on TV. But it is not who it really is.
A 2020 study by O'Neill and colleagues, examining 11,000 Chihuahuas in UK veterinary clinics, found the breed in a massive popularity boom — a fivefold increase in the proportion of dogs being born. And what topped the list of problems they came in for? Aggression. 4.2% of Chihuahuas were recorded with clinical aggression. Higher than Pugs. Higher than Border Terriers. Higher than French Bulldogs. And males — 4.9% — were more aggressive than females, at 3.5%.
But the real number is much higher. Because veterinarians do not record aggression in small dogs the way they do in large ones. When a Chihuahua bites — most of the time it never makes it to medical records. "It's just a Chihuahua, it's not serious, it didn't really bite." But the Chihuahua does not know it is small. It feels what it feels. Its fear is real. Its anger is real. Its bite is real. And it hurts, especially for children or strangers who do not expect it.
The C-BARQ system — the most widely validated behavioral assessment tool in the world — places the Chihuahua at alarming percentiles: stranger-directed fear 80.6%, dog-directed fear 85.8%, stranger-directed aggression 67.8%, dog-directed aggression 71.8%, touch sensitivity 67.5%. These are not numbers for a "small and sweet" dog. These are numbers for a dog living in a world where almost everything feels threatening. Imagine living in a world where 8 out of 10 people you meet seem dangerous to you. That is how a Chihuahua feels, every day, without proper training.
And it starts at the beginning. The biggest problem? The people who buy Chihuahuas are often those with no previous dog experience. "It's a small dog. How bad can it be?" Then the Chihuahua barks at everything that moves, trembles in corners, hides under the bed, bites when pressured. And the owner concludes: "He doesn't like people." Wrong. He is afraid of people. It is not the same thing. And you, the owner, did not teach him otherwise because you did not know how. No one taught you.
What do you do?
First, stop treating size as a factor. The Chihuahua is a dog. All the needs of a dog live inside it — instincts, drives, social needs, the need for structure and order — even in a body of two pounds. It needs rules. Boundaries. Consistent training. Socialization that starts on day one, not after fears have already settled in.
Here is what happens in most homes: the puppy arrives, it is cute, scared, tiny. The owner picks it up every time it trembles. Hugs it when it barks. In effect, the owner reinforces the fear. Not on purpose. Out of love. But the result is that the puppy learns: "When I tremble, I get picked up. When I bark, I get petted." And after six months of this reinforcement, the Chihuahua is a barking, trembling machine that cannot cope with anything.
The Chihuahua's first socialization does not happen at a dog park. It happens in the first months of life, at home, in front of the people who enter it with the right approach. It happens when it sits quietly and watches a new person enter, without pressure, without being approached directly. It happens when you open the front door and let it see the world from the inside, not when you throw it outside.
Because of the high baseline fear — remember, 85.8% dog-directed fear — any training method that uses anger or punishment will produce more aggression. Not dominance. Not submission. Fear-aggression. Plain. The Chihuahua does not need to "know who is boss" — it needs to know it is safe, and that you understand what it feels.
"Being safe" means: you, the owner, control the situation, but without threatening it. When you are calm, composed, and know what you are doing, the Chihuahua learns to relax. When you control the environment — who enters, when, how — it stops feeling that the responsibility is on it. Only then can it learn.
The research on neurodevelopmental scaling in dog brains showed that small dogs naturally exhibit higher levels of alertness and fear — simply because a smaller brain has relatively less volume for processing complex information and stays in a "ready" state more often. But precisely this alertness allows the owner — if done right — to form a tighter bond. The Chihuahua's score on attachment/attention-seeking (74.3%) is one of the highest among breeds. It wants to be close. It wants to work with you. It just needs to feel safe enough to let itself.
Comparison: Chihuahua vs Pomeranian
Both are toy breeds. Both are small, popular, and can bark a lot. But the difference between them is the difference between entire evolutionary worlds.
The Pomeranian is a miniature Spitz. Its ancestry goes back to sled dogs from the Arctic — pack animals, workers, thinkers in terms of hierarchy and forward movement. The Pomeranian you see today in someone's purse is a shrunken version of a whole dog: the body shrunk, but the brain remained a brain of a northern breed. When it barks, it signals to the pack. When it runs, it explores. It wants to work with you as a team.
The Chihuahua does not come from that world. It does not come from Asia. It does not come from Europe. It comes from the Americas. Its genetics are those of a dog that was never part of the European working industry — no sheep herding, no hunting, no guarding of large territory. Its evolutionary development circled around one thing: being close to humans. Warming. Accompanying. Spiritual guidance. A role of presence, not performance.
When a Chihuahua barks, it does not signal — it defends. When it trembles, it is not cold (though sometimes it is) — it trembles because it is in a state of high arousal. "There is danger here, and I need to do something." It takes responsibility. This is a dog that takes your safety seriously, even when you do not ask.
The difference in training is critical: a Pomeranian can be trained with a relatively standard approach. It wants to please. It wants to work with you. It finds satisfaction in doing what is asked. The Chihuahua? C-BARQ ranks it 104th out of 124 breeds in trainability. Not because it is stupid — quite the opposite. But because it does not see a reason to obey for no reason. It asks "What's in it for me?" before you have finished giving the command.
But add the 74.3% attachment score: when you answer its question with a good answer — a treat, warmth, a cuddle, closeness — it will give you everything. It will follow you to the ends of the earth. But it will not give it for free.
Another comparison: Chihuahua vs Labrador Retriever. The Labrador was born to retrieve. It was born to work with you, for you, over large areas. Its brain is wired for cooperation. The Chihuahua was born to be. Its brain is wired to stay close and protect what is close. When you call a Labrador, it comes because it wants to. When you call a Chihuahua, it comes because it chooses to. It is not less. It is different.
How to train a Chihuahua:
First: Understand it is a mini-alarm system. Everything new is a potential threat. People. Dogs. A garbage truck. A plastic bag blowing in the wind. Your job is to make new things positive, slowly, patiently, without flooding its system. Do not throw it into the deep end of reality. Bring reality to it, in small doses, in a controlled way.
Second: Work on "Look what I have." Positive reinforcement, tasty food, but not only food. The Chihuahua responds beautifully to praise, body warmth, gentle touch. It wants to be close. Use that. When it does something right — do not settle for a treat. Lower your head to it. Say "good dog" in a soft voice. Rub its chest. Your touch is the most powerful treat you have.
Third: Clear boundaries, with love. The Chihuahua will try to control the house. Not out of classic dominance, but out of fear. "If I do not control the space — someone else will, and it might not be safe." Boundaries do not need to be harsh — collars, jerks, shouting — but they need to be consistent. Every day, the same. Where it eats. Where it sleeps. What is allowed. What is not. When it knows the boundaries, it relaxes.
Fourth: The door protocol. This is the most important exercise for a Chihuahua. When someone rings — the Chihuahua barks. That is natural. Do not try to prevent it. Instead, teach it: when you bark, I know you noticed. Thank you. Now sit. Wait a minute. Let me open. When there is an intercom, train it to automatically go to its place (bed, mat) and wait there quietly. Not because it does not alert. Because it alerts and then settles. The difference is critical: you do not turn off the alarm. You teach that after the alarm comes calm.
Fifth: Handling the trembling. Many Chihuahuas tremble. Not always from cold. Sometimes excitement, fear, sometimes just because their fast metabolism makes them tremble even without emotional cause. The biggest mistake: comforting it when it trembles from fear. "It's okay, it's okay, don't be afraid." You think you are calming. In fact, you are reinforcing. You are teaching it that trembling gets attention, warmth, a hug. Instead, give it a task: sit. Touch my foot. Look at me. Work. Trembling is not a behavior — it is a symptom. Treat the cause (fear of the stimulus), not the symptom.
Sixth: Work on touch sensitivity. The 67.5% touch sensitivity score means many Chihuahuas do not like being handled. They do not like approaches from above. They do not like being petted in certain ways. Start by touching it only where it likes (most Chihuahuas like gentle chest rubs, less so head rubs). Work slowly on grooming, ear checks, paw handling. Every step must be accompanied by a treat. Without this, every vet visit will be a trauma, and your Chihuahua will become "that dog that bites at the clinic."
"But he won't take treats when he's scared."
True. Because you cannot teach a dog in a state of high arousal. Like you cannot talk someone out of a panic attack. His brain does not register positive stimuli when in peak fear.
So what do you do? Lower the intensity of the stimulus. Open that door just a crack. Bring the guest from 50 meters away, not 50 centimeters. Do a thousand repetitions at the distance where he is not yet barking or trembling, and move closer slowly. The fundamental principle of training: UNDER THRESHOLD.
If your Chihuahua is barking, you are too close. Move back. Start again. Not one exercise. A thousand exercises. With the patience of a monk. Because your impatience is what created the problem. And patience will fix it.
One more thing: health affects behavior.
The Chihuahua is one of the breeds with the most health issues that affect behavior without people understanding the connection:
Patellar luxation causes pain when running or jumping. If your Chihuahua does not want to get on the couch or bites when you pick him up — it might hurt. Not a behavioral issue. Pain.
Molera — the soft spot on the Chihuahua's skull, which remains open in many dogs. This means hard contact to the head can be genuinely painful or dangerous. Children especially must be taught not to press on the Chihuahua's head.
Hypoglycemia in puppies — fast metabolism means unstable blood sugar. A hungry Chihuahua puppy is a grumpy, weak, frightened puppy that cannot learn anything. Feeding in small, frequent portions is not pampering — it is preparing for training.
Dental issues — 13.5% of Chihuahuas suffer from periodontal disease. Chronic tooth pain makes any dog irritable. The Chihuahua that bites when you touch its mouth is not "guarding its toy" — it hurts. Check its teeth.
Frequently Asked Questions:
Why does my Chihuahua tremble all the time?
Could be cold, fear, excitement, or simply its physiology. It has a fast metabolism and loses heat quickly — small containers, and this time not as a metaphor — cool down faster. A small sweater, a warm bed, and mental work help. Over-reassuring ("it's okay, it's okay") does not help — it reinforces.
Why does my Chihuahua bark at everything?
Because it believes that is its job. In its genetics — a companion and guard dog for a small home. It does not guard a large territory, it guards the space close to its body. Everything that enters its space enters through its "alarm gate." The solution: teach it when to stop, not try to prevent it from starting in the first place. Thank you for the alert. Now back to normal.
Is a Chihuahua good with children?
Generally not recommended. Not because it is bad, but because its body is small and fragile. A small child might drop it, pull its ears, press on the molera. The Chihuahua will respond with a bite out of fear and pain. The AKC officially does not recommend Chihuahuas for families with small children. If there are children, supervision is needed at all times, and the child must be taught exactly how to approach, where to touch, and when to keep distance.
Can a Chihuahua learn to be calm around other dogs?
Yes, but it takes work. From puppyhood — controlled meetings, with calm dogs of similar size first. Do not throw it into a dog park. Do not force it. Start with one dog, a short meeting, and build slowly. The 85.8% dog-directed fear score was not created in a day — and it will not disappear in a day.
Chihuahua or Pomeranian — which is better for me?
If you want a dog that does what you say because it wants to please — Pomeranian. If you are willing to invest, earn trust, work with a smart, complex, independent dog that does not compromise on its interests — Chihuahua. Both are wonderful. Both require patience. But the Chihuahua demands that you understand it, not just train it.
When you adopt a Chihuahua, you do not adopt an accessory.
You adopt a descendant of dogs that survived 10,000 years in the Americas. That crossed rivers with their owners in the land of the dead. That slept beside humans on freezing nights. And were nearly erased twice — once by the Spanish conquest, and once by the industry of popularity that turned them into a handbag.
A well-trained Chihuahua — one that has earned its confidence, that knows it is safe with you, that understands the boundaries but also knows it is loved — is one of the closest, most loyal, and most amusing dogs you will ever know. It is not just a small dog. It is 10,000 years of evolution in the warmth of your belly.
The path to it does not go through a purse.
It goes through earning its trust.
And it is worth every step.
Sources:
- O'Neill DG, Packer RMA, Llewellyn-Zaidi AM, et al. "Demography and commonly recorded clinical conditions of Chihuahuas under primary veterinary care in the UK in 2016." BMC Veterinary Research. 2020;16:42. PMCID: PMC7014602.
- Hsu Y, Serpell JA. "Development and validation of a questionnaire for measuring behavior and temperament traits in pet dogs." Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association. 2003;223(9):1293-1300. DOI: 10.2460/javma.2003.223.1293. (C-BARQ — source of Chihuahua temperament data.)
- Perri AR, et al. "Ancient dog genomes reveal the genomic legacy of the Americas." Science. 2020;370(6512):eaaz9366. (Pre-Columbian ancestry of Chihuahua.)