In my perfect world… Dog ownership fantasies

Yeah, yeah, we live in reality. But we can daydream, too

So here are some fantasies I escape into when I’m feeling down.

In my perfect world, all dogs would be biologically fulfilled.

They’d have opportunities to perform natural behaviors and act on innate instincts. They’d be honored as complex social creatures. We wouldn’t expect them to fit into our modern human society without meeting their canine needs.

In my perfect world, we’d have far more off-leash legal spaces

where the cultural norm was for unfamiliar dogs to briefly sniff before moving on (or simply not greet at all).

These areas would be large enough to facilitate natural social interactions—no cramped half-acre dog park fences—and full of interesting terrain to keep people and pets exploring.

In my perfect world, leash laws would actually be followed.

If a park’s signage said dogs must be tethered? Visitors would respect the rules! People who were afraid of dogs could then enjoy these areas without worry—and dogs who were reactive, fearful, injured, elderly, or otherwise in training could too.

(This goes hand in hand with the above fantasy. If there were more accessible designated spots to “let dogs be dogs” the way many owners enjoy, it would be easier to block off other areas as truly on leash.)

In my perfect world, we’d have widespread education about how our pets can impact wildlife.

Owners would balance meeting their dogs’ needs with preserving the natural habitats around them. We’d work alongside each other—handlers, trainers, park rangers, biologists, additional experts—to come up with alternatives where instinctual behavior (like chasing endangered species or roaming over cryptobiotic soil) wasn’t a safe option.

In my perfect world, no one would expect domestic dogs to be indiscriminately social.

Strangers would always ask before reaching towards a pet they didn’t know. Kids would be taught from a young age not to grab dogs without permission.

In my perfect world, that respect would go both ways.

Owners would prevent their dogs from approaching anyone new—person, dog, cat, livestock, whoever—if they weren’t clearly invited to say hello.

In my perfect world, everyone would be able to read basic canine body language.

Our dogs’ stress signals and signs of discomfort would become common knowledge. And when we noticed them, we’d care enough to try to figure out their cause—to improve our companions’ comfort and confidence and sense of security in the long run.

In my perfect world, dog bites wouldn’t just be preventable… they’d be successfully prevented.

No one would expect their dog to act like a small human. We’d better understand prey drive, natural territorial inclinations, and the ways our species communicate in fundamentally different ways to reduce conflict.

In my perfect world, ethical breeders and rescues would band together

to reduce the homeless pet problem. There would be more education about why thoughtful breeding matters in our modern anthropocentric world.

In my perfect world, backyard breeders wouldn’t exist.

Everyone who bred their dogs would be doing it with a well-understood purpose—after robust health testing and temperament screening.

In my perfect world, rescues and shelters would have reliable adoption criteria

free from discrimination (especially on the basis of class and race).

Approval would be less about surface-level details like having a yard—and more about understanding the commitment, and wanting to experience the true joy, of an inter-species bond.

In my perfect world, everyone who was able to and excited about sharing their life with a canine would get the chance to.

In my perfect world, dog training goals would be tailored to individual teams

based on lifestyle factors like immediate environment, personal preferences, and long-term plans — not on arbitrary lists of what makes a “good dog” across the board.

In my perfect world, owners and trainers would spend more time focusing on shared core values than arguing over messy semantics or internet controversies.

In my perfect world, we’d live in harmony with our dogs.

Our dogs would live in harmony with us. It wouldn’t be some magical utopia that simply sprang into being — it would be because we worked for it, because we opened our minds (and hearts), because we learned about our canine companions and about ourselves.