The Weight of Anxious Dogs

Permission to feel frustrated from an anxious person with anxious dogs.

Momo fooled me.

See, I thought that dogs were like shadows, quiet and effortless, never needing much more than a little light. And that was my Momo. I seldom worried about him. He waited outside shop doors, unbothered by the passing world, until I returned. He loved travelling. He loved stillness and watching the world. He understood my words before I spoke them. Sure, I put some effort into training him. But it was like directing water downstream. As a puppy, I caught him chewing on cardboard he’d borrowed from the recycling bin. So one day, I set up a trap—a paper towel roll perched temptingly in the bin. I pretended to leave, then peering in between the curtains. Once he inevitably took the bait, I rushed back in with a stern “No!” He never touched cardboard again. Not unless I explicitly gave him permission.

Momo, as my memory holds him, was the perfect dog.

Momo, carefree in rural France.

I adopted Boo in a haze of that memory. I was convinced my experience with Momo would be the same with any dog. And my delusion lasted long enough to get yet another dog, thinking that maybe Boo’s reactivity and anxiety was an exception. Surely this couldn’t happen twice. And here I am now, with two anxious dogs who challenge me every day. And how timely for me to learn about my own anxiety. I can say they revealed it to me. That sounds so much kinder. So I’ll say that.

The truth is, I often feel overwhelmed by Yaya and Boo. Two anxious dogs are no light burden for a single anxious person. Hear me out: I love them. I’d take a bullet for them. I’ve sworn a silent oath to protect them, and protect them I will. But the road is steep. It’s a challenge. I get frustrated. I live in two truths: that I wouldn’t change a thing, and the guilt-ridden admission that my life would be easier with one dog. Sometimes, in moments of exasperation, you’ll hear me softly say to Yaya “I love you. But you make my life so hard. But I would die for you. But you’re so annoying sometimes.” As I rub his belly, and he takes it all in, completely contented. 

I’ve had to reshape my life in big ways, to give them the best I can. I feel anxious often with them in public, when I anticipate a stranger on trails, when I take Boo on long trips, when a friend comes over and Yaya has a barking fit. The list goes on. Yet, in the same breath, I have to admit that they also help ease that very anxiety. I wouldn’t be as much an outdoorsy person without them. Two dogs can be hard. Two anxious dogs, even harder. Two big energy anxious dogs? It’s a life full of lessons. 

But this is who I am now. Right now, in fact. I just slipped into a quiet coffee shop in the city and tied the dogs to a pole. I needed to pee. I’m alone, so had to have faith that in the one minute I was in the washroom, nothing would unravel outside. “Are those your dogs?” someone asked as soon as I stepped out, a hint of panic in their voice. I rushed out to see a woman holding onto them, a variety of people and dogs showed up in that one minute. “They got loose and were running all over the place!” said the lady who was holding them. This is the rule, isn’t it? A calm street unobserved will get busy when you don’t want it to. 

So now, I’m a man with anxiety.
Followed by a reactive dog. 
Followed by another anxious dog. 

Big energy Yaya, in repose a few days ago.

We never stop training our dogs, just as we may never outgrow our anxiety. But anxiety is an invitation, a call to new practices, new settings, new habits. A challenge to reshape your life. To feel the anxiety you’ve always felt but ask new questions and try new things. Not because success is guaranteed, but because the alternative is stagnation, unhealthy coping, self-doubt, and ultimately, self-destruction. Trust me, I’ve been there. I’ve tried that road. It doesn’t lead anywhere good, though I still visit sometimes.

I’m not gonna give you the top 10 ways to manage your dogs or your own anxiety. I just want to give you permission to feel frustrated, in case you do. Because I do too, sometimes. And that doesn’t lessen the love I have for them. In fact, acknowledging my frustration helps me love them better. Because even after I express my frustration, they still love me. They lick my tears, and we move on. 

But here are a few things that absolutely work for me and the dogs: exercise, inviting change, and trips. The exercise is for me, and for the dogs. My strength training supports my running and hiking which I do with the dogs. A 10km run might actually tire them out for a brief moment. Change helps too—change in training, environment, exercise, diet, or approach; my friend Annika McDade has helped so much with learning about my dogs and their anxiety (you can find endless tips on her Instagram). Finally, vacations. A vacation for you, and a vacation from you. A break can be a good reset button for everyone.

Do you have an anxious dog? Do you struggle with anxiety? Both? What works for you? I’m leaving the comments open so you can share what helps.

Yaya & Boo, with heaps of love.

With love,

Andrew, Yaya & Boo