As part of my continuing education, I regularly attend monthly webinars that explore current research and practices in the world of animal behavior and dog training. A recent session posed a question that struck a deep chord with me—both professionally and personally: Are we asking too much of our dogs? And if we are, in what ways are we inadvertently putting their emotional or physical well-being at risk?
The timing was uncanny. This very topic has been front of mind for me in my own practice, and certainly in how I care for my own dogs. I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the human expectations we place on dogs—often without even realizing it—and how those expectations can silently erode the trust and balance we seek to build with them.
Most dog guardians, in my experience, mean well. Their intentions are good. But the reality is that many are simply misinformed about the true nature of dogs and the complexity of their needs.
Why do people get dogs in the first place?
Often, it’s because we’re looking to fill something in our lives—companionship, purpose, joy, routine. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. After all, relationships, whether with people or animals, are reciprocal. But problems arise when the human need completely eclipses the needs of the dog.
Take for example the language I often encounter in client emails:
“My dog needs to learn to sit and stay.”
“He needs to come when I call him.”
Of course, I understand what they’re trying to say. But these statements highlight a common disconnect—these are not the dog’s needs. These are our needs projected onto them. And somewhere along the way, we’ve come to view our pets less as sentient beings with their own preferences and more as responsive extensions of our wishes.
Another common assumption? That a “good dog” is universally friendly.
We expect dogs to enjoy being petted by strangers. We expect them to be tolerant of any person or dog we introduce them to. We expect them to behave like polite, unflappable hosts, regardless of how they may feel in the moment.
We forget that dogs—like people—have boundaries, moods, and preferences. They may not always want to be touched. They may not feel comfortable in social situations. And sometimes, they may need space.
Even more troubling is the belief that dogs must always be “on”—ready to work, to focus, to perform, regardless of the context or their emotional state. But dogs, like all living beings, need rest, decompression, and flexibility. Expecting unwavering obedience without honoring the dog’s state of mind is not only unfair—it’s unsustainable.
So yes, I believe we do ask too much of our dogs—when we fail to see them as individuals.
When we view their behaviors through a lens of human desire rather than canine reality.
When we judge their responses without considering the environment, the pressures, or their internal experience.
This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t teach, guide, or have expectations. What it does mean is that our expectations must be fair, developmentally appropriate, and rooted in an understanding of the dog as a dog.
The heart of this work is compassion. If we truly want to live in harmony with our dogs, we must first take an honest look at how our well-meaning intentions might sometimes place an unfair burden on them—and commit to doing better.
Because our dogs are not here to meet every human expectation. They are here to be dogs. And that, in itself, is more than enough.