Reminder to self: it’s not fair to judge fellow dog owners

As much as I struggle with self-doubt as a dog owner, I can also struggle with self-righteousness.

Sometimes I feel like I know nothing and need all the help in the world — and then in the same breath I catch myself passing judgment from my own very precarious glass house.

Oops.

On the one hand, I truly think we can be doing better for our dogs. The number of extremely overweight, anxious, and otherwise unfulfilled pets I see breaks my heart.

I’d love to see the concept of an “average” dog owner — the baseline expectation of what it means to take responsibility for a living creature — go way up.

How cool would it be if instead of the general prescription of a few walks a week and maybe a game of fetch now and again, we saw owners trying to understand what fulfills their individual dogs? Advocating for them consistently in stressful situations? Taking the time to teach them boundaries instead of just complaining about how “naughty” they are?

As humans, I think we owe our companions more.

On the other hand, we all start somewhere. I don’t think judgment tends to be very productive — and there’s a big difference between a genuine desire to educate, set an example, and maybe plant some seeds versus wanting to feel superior or unfairly gate-keep.

I personally muddle that line more than I’m proud to admit.

Spending time in “dog world” surrounded by people who share my passion is amazing. But despite plenty of varying opinions on specific tool use or other nitty-gritty training and ownership details, sometimes I feel the risk of finding myself in an echo chamber.

I try to get out of that and ask myself what I thought two, three, or even ten years ago. If I was a “bad” person or “sorry excuse for an owner” for not knowing something about dogs that now seems obvious.

The answer? A pretty resounding “no”.

Over the years, judgment never helped me grow — but kindness and thoughtful accountability did.

And trust me, I’ve done some dumb things.

• I let my family’s husky off leash in our yard just days after adopting her with no consideration of the potential consequences. The only reason something didn’t go terribly wrong was because I got lucky — and because none of my neighbors or their pets were afraid of dogs or minded her visiting their yards. Yikes.
• I reinforced behavior I didn’t like and then complained about it, failing to give consistent boundaries or clear direction.
• My childhood pets were obese. They suffered joint problems and unnecessary pain because of it.
• I frequented dog parks and thought every dog on the street should say hi to every other dog on the street.
• And so on and so on and so on.

To my chagrin, the list is pretty endless. Current Haley absolutely cringes at some of past Haley’s moves.

But isn’t that one of our best signs of growth?

I think every dog owner whose heart is in the right place has the potential to be absolutely amazing. To biologically fulfill their canine companions, to understand and move on from their past mistakes, to continue being better and better and better for not only their dogs but also everyone who interacts with them.

Yes — even if they’re a bit “irresponsible” right now. Even if what they do makes us cringe. Even if I’m tempted to stand on a glass roof while linking arms with my “dog nerd” friends and looking down upon their choices.

Because in another two, three, or ten years, I hope that I’ve continued to grow, too.

Having what feels like a good amount of knowledge on a certain topic doesn’t give me the right to judge (and let’s face it — what we believe to be true today can always turn out to be misguided tomorrow).

But maybe, in the right circumstances, the learning I’ve done will give me an opportunity to teach. And I don’t want to squander that through self-righteousness!