Last summer, Sophie began her training journey with me.
During our initial consultation, I asked her owner all the usual questions to get a clear picture of Sophie’s personality before we started. From the beginning, Sophie was uneasy around me, skittish even, but her owner assured me she usually warmed up to strangers quickly.
However, Sophie turned out to be one of the most anxious dogs I’ve ever worked with. The moment we tried to leave the yard, she completely shut down. The risk of her bolting was incredibly high. It wasn’t that her owner intended to withhold information about Sophie’s anxiety—she simply didn’t know. Sophie had been purchased from a poor breeding environment (something the owner was also unaware of) and introduced into a household with two other dogs, becoming the third. The decision to get Sophie was driven by a desire for companionship and affection, but as many of us learn, dogs are not just cuddly toys. They are living beings with their own needs.
Sophie had spent most of her time confined to the house and a small yard with the other dogs. So, when I arrived for her first training session and saw how quickly she shut down, I realized I needed to take a different approach. To give you an idea of her state: Sophie’s body language was a cry for help. She displayed all the signs of extreme anxiety—whale eye, tail tucked, ears pinned back, crouching, shaking, and even losing control of her bowels and bladder.
There was no way I was going to take Sophie out into the world in that condition. Instead, we started working in the garden, focusing first on building trust. I noticed Sophie was terrified of anything new. Objects she hadn’t seen before, or even those with unfamiliar scents, scared her.
It took some time, but eventually, Sophie began to trust me enough that I could start exposing her to new experiences. Initially, she continued to shut down, though not as quickly or as completely as before. But we reached a point where she could handle a bit of stress and work through it. Seeing other dogs triggered intense fear—she would scream, literally scream, and lose control of her bowels and bladder.
As time went on —Sophie started to love training. I had to be very clear with my communication and set clear expectations for her, but once she understood, she was eager to get it right. During training sessions, she would prance around, thoroughly enjoying herself. Sophie was always determined to succeed, and it was heartwarming to see her enthusiasm.
However, when Sophie had less training, or when her owner wasn’t able to work with her consistently, she regressed quickly. Her anxiety would resurface, stronger than before. Our job was to teach Sophie how to be part of a team, to work with people, and to build her confidence. We made sure to equip her owner with all the necessary tools and insights to keep Sophie’s progress on track and to meet her needs.
Sophie’s story is yet another example of the consequences of poor breeding, of getting a dog that doesn’t fit the owner’s lifestyle, of a dog’s needs—both mental and physical—not being met. It’s a reminder that dogs are not stuffed animals; they are living beings who require care, attention, and understanding.
Watching Sophie learn that life can be fun rather than terrifying was incredibly rewarding. Today, Sophie is like a little ray of sunshine, bringing joy to everyone she meets—a happy girl who truly loves life.
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