We all have an image of the "perfect" dog. The one who never barks at the door, walks politely on a leash, and plays nicely with every dog they meet. They’re calm but playful, intelligent but not stubborn, affectionate but not needy. They fit seamlessly into our lives—an ideal companion molded to our expectations.
The problem? That dog doesn’t exist.
From Lassie and Toto to Instagram’s most photogenic pets, we’ve been conditioned to believe in a version of dogs that is more fantasy than reality. They’re either noble heroes, effortlessly saving the day with unwavering bravery, or picture-perfect companions, always groomed, always poised, never out of step. They exist in an exaggerated world where fur is never matted, ears are always perked, and their devotion is absolute. They don’t get scared, they don’t act out, and they certainly never challenge our expectations.
But real dogs are individuals, just like us. They come with quirks, instincts, and emotions that don’t always align with our picture-perfect expectations. They bark, they dig, they have preferences and fears. They react to the world in ways that make sense to them—even if we don’t always understand why.
Take my dog Skippy, a German Shepherd mix. He alerts every time someone pulls into the driveway—yes, even when it’s just my husband. But we’ve redirected his excitement into a positive outlet—now, whenever someone arrives, he eagerly grabs a toy instead of barking excessively. He’s incredibly sweet and affectionate, earning the nickname ‘the saint’ because the puppies that come in for my training camp always cozy up to him, sensing his gentle nature. Despite his size, he’s a lap dog in spirit, always seeking closeness and ready to nuzzle in for comfort.
Then there’s Wahoo, my pit bull-boxer mix, who doesn’t like the dog next door and bristles every time he walks by (and, to be fair, the feeling is mutual). But Wahoo is fiercely loyal, endlessly intelligent, and eager to learn. He thrives on structure, loves a challenge, and has an insatiable appetite—not just for food but for engagement and connection.
They are both wonderful companions with so many incredible qualities, yet neither is "perfect"—and that’s exactly what makes them who they are.
Raised in Our Image
The expectation that a dog should behave like an extension of our own desires is a relatively new phenomenon. For most of history, dogs worked alongside us. They had jobs—herding livestock, guarding property, hunting game. Their purpose was clear, and their value wasn’t tied to their ability to sit quietly in a café or pose for holiday photos.
But as our lifestyles changed, so did our expectations. Instead of working partners, dogs became symbols—of status, of personal success, of carefully curated companionship. The rise of media and consumer culture turned them into idealized characters. Hollywood gave us heroic, obedient dogs. Advertisers made them accessories to a polished lifestyle. Today, social media amplifies the pressure, celebrating dogs who look cute in costumes or perform viral tricks while quietly dismissing the ones who don’t fit the mold.
The result? A growing disconnect between what we expect from dogs and who they actually are.
When we hold dogs to impossible standards, they suffer for it. Their instincts are suppressed, their natural behaviors corrected out of convenience, and their individuality overlooked in favor of compliance. We push them into roles they weren’t designed for, expecting them to be emotional support systems, social media stars, or flawless family members without ever acknowledging their needs.
And then, when they struggle—when they develop anxiety, reactivity, or behavioral issues—we blame them. We see their challenges as personal failings rather than natural responses to an unnatural world.
Instead of striving for perfection, what if we embraced our dogs for who they truly are?
A dog doesn’t have to be flawless to be a great companion. They don’t have to love every stranger or tolerate every situation we throw at them. They don’t have to fit neatly into our schedules or social expectations.
What they need is understanding. The space to be themselves. The freedom to express their instincts in a way that works for both them and us.
A perfect dog is overrated. But a real dog—a dog with personality, quirks, and complicated emotions—that’s the dog worth celebrating
As always, Sarah, your perspective is insightful, wise, loving, and so useful! THANK YOU!!
I love this Sarah! Each dog is different for sure. I grew up with one we wanted to be a sort of watch dog, but she only barked when we came home! Cookie currently barks at anyone at the door, but she only brings toys to the door if it's family. Your message is always clear, we need to understand them...(and love them)