14/01/2026
During a recent behavioural consultation, I was reminded just how deeply early habits shape both dogs and children, and how difficult those habits are to change once they are ingrained. What I encountered was not an aggressive dog, a stubborn dog, or a dog lacking training. It was a young dog who had never been taught how to find calm in his own home. Nor did he understand personal space, and lacked impulse control.
The dog was a 12 month old Golden Retriever living with two young children. From the moment he came home as a puppy, he had been treated like a toy. Constant affection, excited voices, hugging, grabbing, climbing, following him from room to room and demanding interaction were normalised early. No one intended harm. In fact, everyone believed they were showing love. But love without boundaries is not calming. Over time, it becomes pressure.
By the time I was asked to step in, the parents were frustrated and confused. They wanted to know why their dog would not listen to the children, why he ignored them completely, why he jumped all over them, and why he bit them for attention. From their perspective, he should have been a friendly, tolerant family dog. From the dog’s perspective, he had spent most of his life overwhelmed.
It became clear very quickly that the children had never learned how to interact with him calmly. These behaviours were not one offs. They had been rehearsed daily since he was a young pup. By this stage, they were habits, not choices. Children struggle to stop behaviours that have always been allowed, even when they are explained clearly. This is exactly why waiting until behaviour becomes chaotic puts everyone behind.
During the session, I took time to explain what was happening and why the dog’s behaviour made sense. I spoke directly to the children, breaking it down in simple terms. I explained that their dog was not being naughty or mean, but overwhelmed. That jumping and biting were ways of coping when calmer signals were ignored. I explained that dogs need space, rest and predictability, just like people do.
I then demonstrated the place command. I showed how it gives a dog a clear, safe space to disengage, settle and regulate. With structure and clarity, the dog relaxed almost immediately.
I asked the children not to touch or engage with him while I was teaching place. I explained why. I explained that interrupting him would undo the lesson, increase his stress and reinforce the very behaviours they were upset about.
The response was telling.
The children looked at me like I had just taken something away from them. Not access to the dog’s space, but access to their toy. Within moments, they got up and left the room entirely. To them, asking for boundaries felt unfair. It felt cruel. In that moment, I was not the person helping their dog calm and learn to be more responsive. I was the person stopping them from doing what they had always done.
That reaction said everything.
This was not about a lack of understanding. It was about a lack of early boundaries. The children had grown up believing the dog existed for their interaction, on their terms, whenever they wanted it. Asking them to suddenly respect limits felt unnatural because limits had never existed.
From the dog’s perspective, the picture was equally clear. He had spent his entire developmental period learning that children bring chaos. They were loud, unpredictable, physical and relentless. So when they tried to cue him, he ignored them. Not out of defiance, but because they had never been calm or safe and consistent guides in his world.
The jumping and biting were also misunderstood. These behaviours were not aggression. They were functional responses that had been reinforced over time. When subtle signals like avoidance or disengagement were ignored, the dog escalated. Jumping, mouthing, and grabbing clothing consistently produced attention, play, and strong reactions from the children. Because these outcomes were rewarding, the behaviours strengthened. In this way, the dog learned to use these actions to control interaction and influence the children’s environment.
What made this case particularly challenging was that by this stage, the children did not want things to change. They wanted access. They wanted interaction on their terms. They wanted the puppy they could do whatever they liked with. Boundaries felt like punishment, not learning.
This is why early education matters so much. Teaching children from day one that a puppy is not a toy is far easier than trying to undo a year of rehearsed behaviour. When children are not guided early, habits harden. When dogs are not protected early, stress responses become ingrained. By the time behaviour feels uncontrollable, everyone is reacting instead of teaching.
The solution is not punishing the dog, and it is not demanding more obedience. The solution starts with management and education. Real boundaries. Physical barriers when needed. Structured interaction only. Place means place, even when kids want affection. Walking away means leave him alone, even if feelings are hurt. Access to the dog becomes a privilege earned through calm behaviour, not a right.
This consultation was a clear reminder that prevention is always easier than repair. Dogs do not behave out of nowhere. They reflect the environment they grow up in. When we stop blaming the dog and start looking honestly at the patterns shaping them, the behaviour almost always makes sense.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘥
