Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about people who call themselves “dog people.” Not in a judgmental way—more like an anthropological curiosity. Because there’s this one thing that always stands out to me:
Many self-proclaimed dog people seem to believe that all dogs automatically love them.
Now, this obviously isn’t true across the board. But I’ve seen it enough to notice a pattern. Someone says, “I’m such a dog person,” and the next thing you know, they’re in a dog’s face—cooing, petting, assuming love and affection are mutual.
Meanwhile, I like to think of myself as a dog person too, but maybe for a different reason. I see dogs as their own beings. They have emotions. They have opinions. They have distinct ways of interacting with humans.
So when I see a dog, I check in. I observe how it’s looking at me. I try to read its energy. Does it want to be pet? Does it seem curious? Relaxed? Standoffish? I’ll usually say something like, “Hey, how you doing?” Whether or not it understands English doesn’t matter—I believe there’s a shared emotional language between beings.
Sometimes I’ll go even further:
“If you want, I can be a great friend to you.”
“The moment you’re ready, I’m here for you. If not, no problem at all.”
That’s my approach. Treat them like autonomous creatures. Offer connection, not demand it. I think it’s the healthiest way to interact—with dogs and maybe people too.
And then there’s dog ownership.
This is where things get a little trickier. I think people get dogs for a lot of the wrong reasons:
Companionship
Aesthetic
Socializing
Exercise motivation
Even, oddly, status
But for me, I wouldn’t get a dog unless I felt I could fully support its experience in life. I don’t want a dog for me. I’d want a dog if I could be the kind of human that dog would thrive with.
Right now? I live in a condo. I work a lot. I’m not home enough. I don’t have the bandwidth to train, play, bond the way I think a dog deserves. So I don’t get one. And that’s not some moral high ground—it’s just respect.
Which leads me to my last (and maybe strongest) point:
People don’t train their dogs.
They post them. Parade them. Spoil them. But they don’t put in the consistent, daily work that dogs crave. And yes, crave. Dogs want to learn. They want to understand boundaries. They want to be good.
Behavior issues? Almost always solvable. But it takes time. Patience. Repetition. Accountability. And if someone isn’t ready to do that, maybe they’re not ready to be a dog owner.
At camp, we have a saying:
There are no bad kids. Just bad behavior.
I think that applies here too. It’s rare to find a truly bad dog. What’s common is bad behavior—and usually, that traces back to an owner who never gave the dog the tools it needed to succeed.
So maybe that’s what I really believe:
There are no bad dogs. Just bad owners.