For George Matheis, dog training is less about training the dog and more about teaching their humans. As the founder of MCS Dog Training in Fort Worth, Matheis has worked with over 3,500 dogs and people since 2017 in Pennsylvania.
He and his family moved to Fort Worth in 2023, but it took some time, an updated logo and website to begin developing a following here. To support his family, Matheis traveled between here and Pennsylvania for clients every few weeks.
“Most people who call are wives or moms,” he says. “They’re the ones that spend the most time with these dogs and see the problems.”
By the time he gets a call, families are near the breaking point with out-of-control dogs—exhibiting everything from reactivity and resource guarding to aggression.
“Families are desperate,” he explains. They want to keep their dog, but don't know what to do.
MCS Dog Training offers services, including in-home consultations, basic training, help with problem dogs, and service dog training.
Yet, he explains, “I never saw myself making this into a business.”
A retired police officer and Army veteran, Matheis suffered with PTSD, alcohol and prescription medication until he hit an all-time low at a family member’s wedding.
He woke up the next morning to discover that his wife left the party early to take him home—and a broken-hearted special needs daughter, Emilie, who didn’t get to dance with her daddy at the wedding.
“I never thought I had a drug or alcohol problem,” he says. “It took breaking her heart to see it.”
The incident inspired him to clean up his act, but he continued to struggle.
Later that year, his daughter Elizabeth gifted him with his dream dog: Odin, an Old English bulldogge puppy.
“I’ve wanted one all my life,” Matheis says. “And here it was, right down the street from us.”
And dog training? “I had no idea what I was doing, but I wanted to do it right.”
He reached out to Bob Fink, a dog trainer with the non-profit organization Veteran Service Canine. “He offered training,” Matheis explains. “So, I started training with him 4 days a week.”
He eventually apprenticed as a trainer under Fink and worked directly with the veterans and their dogs. The two later went on to form Cover Six Canines—a nonprofit that trains service dogs for veterans and first responders.
While apprenticing, Matheis noticed that “the veterans who would come in were so riddled with PTSD they could not relax.”
That stress put the dogs in a tough spot, according to Matheis, “they wanted to help but didn’t know what to do.”
He watched the pattern repeat, until one day when the realization hit him. “The Lord just told me that they’re talking to the dogs, but they’re not trying to communicate.”
“Dogs are still 98.6 percent gray wolf,” he explains. “They communicate through eye contact, touch, and movement.”
Realizing that “every dog knows what to do, but we don’t understand the program,” Matheis reasoned that the training focused too much on treats and talking.
“What if we stop talking to the dogs except for praise,” he asked, “until they learn the commands and we stop giving them treats?”
It worked.
His first client came through Veteran Service Canine when a chance meeting led to being paid for training outside the program. One client led to another, and Matheis says, “The rest is history.”
“Every dog knows what to do, but we don’t understand the program.”
“Dogs are still 98.6 percent gray wolf,” he explains. “They communicate through eye contact, touch, and movement.”