When we learn who dogs are, we start to see.
When you can see, you notice the sad looking dog in the park, the one being pulled along but really just wants to sniff and amble.
When you can see, you see the guy on the phone walking through the most glorious autumn scene, but not noticing it – while his dog is walking behind, desperate to be looked at.
When you see, you notice the dog being blamed instead of guided, the dog being hugged and looking uncomfortable, the dog who requests something simple to meet their needs but is ignored.
When you open your eyes, you see that the dog being called lazy is in pain, the dog who wants to meet other dogs but is denied, the dog who doesn’t want to meet other dogs but has them forced upon him anyway.
When you look, you see that the dog being towered over by a stranger is uncomfortable, that the dog tied outside a shop is stressed and that the dog being pulled back over and over again on their lead has no idea what to do instead.
When you know, you see the successful, proud dog trainer online with a lot of sad looking dogs. You know that a prong collar is a threat of pain not a teaching method, that the dog labelled as calm is actually emotionally helpless.
When you learn, you learn about canine individuality, that dogs are all different, that some are introverts and some extroverts, that some have anxiety, and some can cope with anything in the World. When you learn, you question.
When you question, you ask what right we have to put dogs through what we do, to treat them as pets, to ignore them, to threaten and hurt them. What right do we have to drag them through the World while staring at our phone?