Why Did I Get This Dog? The Thought Nobody Wants to Admit
Have you ever felt like you’re just one mistake away from disaster?
Like if you stop paying attention even for a second, if you miss a single signal or make one wrong decision, everything is going to fall apart?
Maybe you’ve found yourself constantly scanning the environment. Watching every single interaction. Trying to predict every possible problem before it even happens.
Are they going to bark? Is that person going to walk too close? What if a squirrel runs across the path right now?
You’re trying to make sure everyone is safe. You're trying to make sure nothing goes wrong. You’re prepared for every possible outcome, every single second of every single day.
And maybe, after doing that for long enough, a thought has crossed your mind that you’re almost afraid to admit out loud.
A thought that makes you feel like a "bad" person.
"Maybe I should have never gotten this dog."
Ouch.
If that’s you, friend, I want you to take a deep breath right now.
I wrote this for you.
The Weight on Your Chest
I want to start by being incredibly vulnerable with you.
When I think back to the hardest moments with my own dogs, the ones that felt like they were breaking me, I can still feel it in my body.
For me, it feels like someone is standing on my chest.
My chest tightens. My stomach drops. It’s a physical heaviness that is almost impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t lived it.
Do you feel it too?
Where do you carry it? Is it a knot in your stomach? A tension in your shoulders that never quite goes away?
The reason we feel this so deeply is that we’ve entered a state of hypervigilance.
Our dogs are hypervigilant, always scanning, watching, and waiting for the next "threat", and without even realizing it, we start living the same way they do.
We become the "worst-case scenario" experts.
I’m talking unchallenged, world-class champions at imagining the absolute worst thing that could happen in any given moment.
It is exhausting. It is lonely. And it’s exactly why that "regretful" thought starts to creep in.
The Thought is Not the Truth
Here is the thing I need you to hear, and I need you to hear it clearly:
The problem isn’t that you’re having the thought. The problem is believing the thought means something about who you are.
When that thought, "I shouldn't have gotten this dog", crosses your mind, your brain immediately turns it into a personal attack.
You tell yourself you're failing. You tell yourself you’re a bad dog owner. You tell yourself you don't love your dog enough.
But that’s not what that thought means.
Honestly? It just means you’re human.
Our "stupid human brains" (as I like to call them) use regret as a way to signal that we are overwhelmed.
The real thought underneath "I shouldn't have gotten this dog" isn't actually about the dog at all.
The real thought is: "I don't think I can carry all of this weight by myself anymore."
That is a very different thing, isn't it?
One is a judgment of your character. The other is a cry for help because you’ve been trying to manage every emotion, predict every outcome, and keep the entire world safe for far too long.
The Honeymoon Phase and the "Alligator Snaps"
I’ve been there. I have walked this path with you.
I remember when I got Apollo.
If you’ve heard his story, you know he was my high-prey-drive, right-brained extrovert. He was the polar opposite of the calm Newfoundlands I was used to.
When I first brought him home from the Humane Society, we had what I call the "Honeymoon Phase."
This is that period where the dog is still observing, still figuring out the patterns. They seem perfect. They seem calm. You think, "Oh, this is going to be easy!"
And then, the honeymoon ends.
Apollo started testing things. He lunged at people's faces with what I call "alligator snaps", not aggressive, just his very intense way of saying hello.
He attacked my house pig, Cleo. (Yes, I had a house pig. She was amazing.)
He almost killed a barn cat.
I remember sitting there, looking at him, thinking: Why did I do this? Why did I say yes to this? I have fourteen other dogs. I don’t need this.
I was scared. I was frustrated. And I was carrying the heavy weight of "professional shame", thinking that because I was a trainer, I should know better. I should be able to handle it.
But the shame didn't help me train him. It just made the weight on my chest heavier.
Apollo after he attacked the catThe "Moving to the Woods" Fantasy
Have you ever had the fantasy where you just move to the woods?
You imagine becoming a hermit. You’ll live in a little cabin where no one ever has to see your dog again.
Because when it’s just the two of you, it’s perfect.
There are those moments, the cuddles on the couch, the quiet mornings, the way they look at you when the whole world disappears, that are so sweet they take your breath away.
Those moments are exactly why this is so hard.
If it were terrible all the time, the decision would be easy. You’d say, "This isn't a fit," and you’d move on.
But it’s not terrible all the time. There is so much good there. There is a connection that hangs on by a thread, and you’re terrified of letting it go, but you’re also exhausted from holding onto it so tightly.
Your Dog is Smelling Your Thoughts
I talk a lot about how our dogs "pick up what we're putting down."
They sense our energy. They feel our tension. But it’s actually deeper than that, they can quite literally smell the chemical changes in our bodies when we’re stressed or overwhelmed.
When I’m sitting there with that weight on my chest, feeling like I’m failing, there is no way I can hide that from my dog.
And when we’re in that state, we can’t truly show up for them.
We can't be the calm, confident leaders they need us to be because we’re too busy trying to keep the sky from falling.
So, how do we start to put the weight down?
Step 1: Normalize the Thought
Stop running from the thought you’re afraid to admit.
In fact, I dare you to say it out loud today. Say it in the car where no one can hear you.
"There are days when I don't like my dog."
"There are days when I wish I hadn't done this."
Saying it doesn't make it true. It just takes the power away from the secret. It lets the pressure off your chest.
Step 2: Stop Managing Emotions
You are not responsible for managing every single emotion your dog (or your spouse, or your kids) has.
It is an impossible job. You’re allowed to have a bad day. They’re allowed to have a bad day.
When we stop trying to "fix" every feeling, we can start actually connecting with the being in front of us.
Step 3: Find Your People
The training industry often makes us feel worse. They tell us we just need more "obedience" or more "tools."
But what we actually need is a community that says, "Yeah, I’ve felt that too. You’re not a monster. Let’s walk this together."
You Are Not Alone
Being stuck is not the same as hopelessness.
Being overwhelmed is not the same as failing.
If you’re carrying that heavy weight today, I want to invite you into a space where you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.
Inside the Fearless Framework, we spend a lot of time helping people understand their dogs, but we spend just as much time helping them understand themselves.
It’s a group of the kindest, most understanding people you will ever meet: people who are brave enough to say, "I felt this way too," and who are there to celebrate the wins and hold you through the hard days.
And if you’re still trying to figure out why your dog is acting the way they are, take a second to jump over and take our Doganality Quiz. It’s a great first step in understanding if your dog is reacting out of fear or something else entirely.
Friend, you are doing a hard thing.
But you’re not doing it because you’re a failure. You’re doing it because you care so deeply that it hurts.
Let's start putting the weight down, together. 🐾
Talk soon,
Tracy