My Sheltie, Haley, was not at all amused by the controlling nature of my Border Collie, Reenie.
Reenie had definite ideas about where everyone should be and what they should be doing. Haley had equally definite ideas about not being told where to be or what to do by Reenie. Most of the time, they lived together peacefully, but that difference between them created an underlying tension. If something especially exciting pushed them beyond their capacity to manage themselves well, their disagreement could erupt into a noisy, physical scuffle.
And I was definitely not amused by that.
As soon as I noticed the first look, movement, or subtle shift between them, my alarm bells would start ringing. I would become upset and intensely focused on preventing things from escalating.
That made perfect sense to me at the time. I loved both of them, I was responsible for keeping everyone safe, and I certainly didn’t want my dogs fighting.
What I didn’t understand yet was that my alarm wasn’t happening separately from my dog’s experience. It was joining it.
They became tense. I became tense because they were tense. My tension brought even more intensity into the moment, giving all three of us additional reason to believe that something very serious was happening.
This was not particularly helpful.
One day, I decided to experiment with laughter and with changing what I brought into those moments. What might happen if, instead of joining their seriousness with my alarm, I brought in some lightheartedness and an invitation to do something different together?
I began early, when I noticed the first signs of tension and everyone was still safe and able to respond. I laughed out loud, turned away from them, and moved off in a genuinely happy, playful way.
Haley and Reenie immediately became curious about what I was doing. They left their disagreement behind, came with me, and joined me in a little playfulness.
The first time it happened, the change felt almost magical.
Whenever I noticed those early signs of tension after that, I did the same thing. Sometimes we were inside and sometimes outside, but the response was remarkably consistent. I laughed, moved away playfully, and Haley and Reenie came with me.
It was so simple. And yet, it completely changed what happened next.
Laughter did not change who Haley and Reenie were. Haley still had her opinions about Reenie’s controlling tendencies, and Reenie did not suddenly stop being Reenie. I also wasn’t waiting until they were in the middle of a dangerous scuffle and pretending everything was funny.
What changed was the conversation we were having together.
Until then, I had believed my responsibility was to become more serious, more watchful, and more prepared to intervene. But as I began to understand the influence I had within our shared experience, I discovered that being responsible did not always have to mean being serious.
My laughter changed me first. It helped me release my fearful anticipation and become more open, connected, and creative. From there, I could offer Haley and Reenie a different possibility: We don’t have to keep going down that pathway. Come with me. There is something else available to us.
And they said yes.
That experience with Haley and Reenie became part of a much larger understanding that has continued to deepen throughout my life and work with dogs: joy is not merely something we get to experience once the difficult behavior has stopped.
Sometimes, joy helps us find another way through the difficulty.
This doesn’t make laughter a technique we perform to produce a particular response from our dogs. Genuine laughter, playfulness, and lightheartedness are ways of being. Like steadiness, curiosity, clarity, and trust, they influence the experience we are creating together.
Our dogs are exquisitely responsive to us. They notice when we become watchful, worried, frustrated, or determined—and they notice when we become open, joyful, playful, and available for connection. What we bring is not the only influence in any moment, but it does become part of the conversation.
Perhaps your version of this doesn’t happen between two dogs. Perhaps seriousness has taken over your walks together.
You may have once imagined walking as one of the best parts of sharing life with your dog. You would explore the neighborhood together, wander along nature trails, and enjoy the simple pleasure of being outside side by side.
Instead, you find yourself checking the street before you open the door. Once you are walking, you continually scan ahead for loose dogs, narrow sidewalks, noisy trucks, fast-moving bicycles, or anything else that might be too much for your dog. You watch for the first stare or stiffening of their body. You wonder whether you will be able to create enough distance in time and what you will do if there is nowhere to go.
These are not foolish concerns. Choosing a quieter route, allowing more distance, walking at a less-busy time, or changing plans when the environment requires more than you or your dog can currently hold are wise, responsible choices. Supporting capacity is part of loving partnership.
But somewhere along the way, preventing a reaction can become the entire purpose of walking. You stop enjoying the walk together because every outing is evaluated according to what went wrong, what almost went wrong, or whether your dog did better than last time.
Joy begins to feel like something that will come later—when your dog can pass another dog without barking, recover more easily from a surprise, or walk through the neighborhood without both of you bracing for what might be around the next corner.
But what if enjoyment and laughter are part of the way forward, rather than a reward waiting at the end of “fixed” behavior?
What if the quieter route is not just the place where your dog is less likely to become overwhelmed? What if it is also the place where the two of you can breathe more freely, follow an interesting scent, laugh at a harmless little mishap, and remember why you wanted to walk together in the first place?
You might notice your dog’s delight in discovering something you would have walked right past. You might pause together beneath a tree, smile at the way the breeze catches their ears, or laugh when they investigate the same ordinary patch of grass as though it contains the most important news of the day.
And if something difficult does happen, it does not have to erase every good moment that came before it—or decide what happens during the rest of your time together. You can create distance, help both of you reconnect, and then go right back to enjoying walking together again.
I’m not talking about becoming less responsible. I’m talking about allowing responsibility and joy to live together.
It is remembering that you can listen to your dog, respect what both you and your dog have capacity for today, and make thoughtful choices—without allowing vigilance to become the primary way you know how to be together.
Don’t turn today’s walk into behavior-fixing preparation for a better walk at some future time. Our dogs are never with us long enough, so enjoy your shared life today, not someday.
💖 Reflecting on Connection 💖
Writing this essay reminds me of ‘joy first’ with my border collie, Harry. He gives me plenty of opportunities to remember the value of lightheartedness.
Harry loves being outside. He enjoys hanging out in the yard, sniffing whatever needs sniffing, and napping in the sun on a cool day or in the shade when it’s hot. In the evening, he will settle into a cozy corner looking very much like a dog who has nowhere else in the world he needs to be.
I, however, always need Harry to come inside for the night. We have wild animals and coyotes here, along with other possible dangers, and leaving him outside overnight is simply not an option.
Harry understands that it’s time to come in. He also sometimes expresses his very clear preference to remain exactly where he is.
When he was a teenage puppy, it would have been easy for me to insist he come in, or to get frustrated when he didn’t join the other dogs coming in after the last potty call at the end of a long day.
What I decided to do instead was to laughingly refer to Harry’s settled-in yard time as “camping.”
Now I step outside and say, “Hey, buddy, are you camping tonight?” Or, “Yes, it’s a great night to be camping, isn’t it?”
Those words help me meet Harry differently. Instead of approaching him with frustration about what he isn’t doing, I can appreciate what is true for him. He loves being out there. It really is a wonderful evening for camping.
When I meet him with that open and genuinely joyful heart connection, Harry lights up and runs over to me.
The boundary has not changed. Harry still needs to come inside, and I remain responsible for making sure he does.
We don’t have to become opponents simply because his preference and my responsibility are different.
This week, I’ve been reflecting on how many of my most meaningful breakthroughs with dogs have come when I stopped trying so hard to make the moment go the way I thought it should—and brought more of myself into the relationship instead. A little curiosity. A little humility. A willingness to laugh at myself and with my dog. To bring an open-hearted invitation to find our way forward, together.
That is very much at the heart of the new workshop I’m creating: Re-Mapping Your Future with Your Dog.
My intention with this interactive workshop is to help us devoted dog women see and begin a new pathway beyond organizing our lives around reactive, distressed, or difficult behavior—because living that way is exhausting, not much fun, and definitely not the only possibility available to us.
During the workshop, we’ll take something you and your dog are currently struggling with and I’ll help you map out the first steps of a new pathway toward the connected, cooperative, joyful life you want to share with your dog – from this day forward, not ‘someday’.
[Register for the free workshop: Re-Mapping Your Future with Your Dog]
I’m a big fan of implementing in real life, so let’s start now:
Choose one moment when you tend to become serious with your dog. Using my Harry camping story as inspiration, give that moment a fun, lighthearted name.
Perhaps your over-eager walker is going into “speed racer mode.” Maybe your slow-moving dog has invited you on another “turtle walk.” Or perhaps the dog enthusiastically (and loudly) sharing their many opinions is holding an impromptu ‘town hall’. 😂
Choose a name that makes you smile with affection. Let the name remind you to soften, connect, and bring a little more playfulness into the moment.
I would love to hear the name you choose, and how it helps you to bring something new and playful to those moments.
And then, when we gather for the workshop, we’ll explore the next steps along that new pathway together. I can hardly wait!
📸This photo goes way back! That’s me, with Dallas, Reno, and Haley. Such sweet memories of my three girls! ♥️ Always in my heart…
If you’d like to work with me and learn how to create a partnership lifestyle for you and your dog, you can request an invitation to join us in the Brilliant Partners Academy when the doors open for the next enrollment!
