Every so often, I meet someone whose heart lights up at the mere sight of a dog. “Oh, I just love dogs!” they gush, looking at a German Shepherd as if it were an oversized teddy bear. And while I appreciate the sentiment, as someone who has spent decades working with dogs, I often find myself thinking, “If you love dogs that much…maybe you should buy a goldfish.”

Now, before you think I’m advocating for fish over dogs (perish the thought!), hear me out. I say this with a light heart, yet serious intent: most people love the idea of dogs. They picture cute, obedient little furballs that fit neatly into human lives like extra, furry family members. But here’s the kicker—dogs aren’t little humans. They aren’t tiny furry babies. They aren’t meant to blend seamlessly into our world as mere accessories to our lives.

Goldfish, on the other hand? Now there’s a pet that fits this model rather well. They don’t demand walks, they don’t mind being ignored for days, and they certainly don’t require deep psychological understanding or structured interaction. And therein lies the difference.

To put it simply: dogs are not goldfish, but too many people expect them to be. And the reality is, if we truly love dogs, we owe it to them to treat them as dogs.

Anthropomorphism - “Your Dog Isn’t a Human, and That’s Okay!”

As humans, we have this peculiar habit. Give us an animal—especially one that’s warm, fluffy, and capable of looking into our eyes—and we instantly begin seeing bits of ourselves in it. It’s a phenomenon that researchers call “anthropomorphism,” but we simply call it love. We imagine our dog feels just like we do: guilt when they’ve been “bad,” pride when they’ve done something “good,” and gratitude when we’ve gone the extra mile to make their day special. There’s a sweet innocence in this belief, but if we’re honest, it often leads us to misunderstand our dogs in ways that can impact their happiness and well-being.

Think of it this way: when you walk in on a chewed-up shoe and see that “guilty” look on your dog’s face—head lowered, eyes avoiding yours—you might feel a flicker of satisfaction. “Ah, he knows he did wrong,” you think. But here’s the catch: that look isn’t actually guilt. In reality, dogs aren’t sitting around weighing their choices and deciding whether gnawing on that shoe was worth the risk. They don’t have moral crises, nor do they spend time reflecting on the “right” or “wrong” of their actions. That “guilty” look we see is actually appeasement behavior. Your dog is picking up on your body language and tone, sensing that you’re upset, and responding in a way that says, “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. Can we keep the peace here?” Dogs don’t feel “guilty” in a human sense—they’re masters of reading our signals, not of ethics.

This tendency to treat dogs like tiny humans also shows up in how we shower them with affection, often in ways that don’t quite make sense from a dog’s perspective. Picture a dog treated like a toddler—constant doting, baby talk, and treats handed out every time they so much as look cute. Don’t get me wrong; dogs love affection. But when we over-baby them, we often forget what they truly need, which isn’t endless cuddles or the fifth treat of the hour, but leadership, structure, and purpose.

Dogs aren’t little humans with paws; they’re animals with instincts and needs shaped by millennia of evolution. In the wild, a dog’s life is full of structure. They understand their place within the pack, follow clear rules, and have a sense of purpose. Our modern habit of showering dogs with nothing but affection can actually make them feel confused and insecure, because they’re hardwired to crave guidance and boundaries. When we coddle them without offering leadership, it’s a bit like expecting the leader of a wolf pack to sit around fussing over every young wolf. If that were the norm in the wild, that pack wouldn’t survive a week.

Think about it: a dog’s world is relatively simple. They wake up, sniff the air, and go about their day with no interest in existential dilemmas or philosophical reflections. Yet, we often pull them into our complex human world, expecting them to adapt seamlessly to habits that don’t suit their instincts. Ever wondered what your dog thinks while you’re binge-watching yet another series, or scrolling through your phone for hours? To a dog, that’s like standing at the starting line of a race without ever hearing the gun go off. They’re waiting, trying to understand the plan, only to realize that their “pack leader” is absorbed in a small glowing screen or distracted by yet another task that has nothing to do with sniffing, fetching, or moving together.

This brings us back to the crux of why treating dogs like small humans does them a disservice. By assuming they’ll “get it” and fit perfectly into our human-centered routines, we set them up for a life that doesn’t fulfill their needs. Dogs are creatures of action; they crave mental and physical stimulation, and they thrive in structured environments where they know their role and purpose. When all we offer them is affection and passive time on the couch, it’s like signing them up for a role that goes against their very nature.

Now, humor me for a second and imagine what a dog’s Yelp review of their human might look like. Perhaps it’d say something like, “Three stars. Nice person, but way too into staring at a glowing box for hours. I’ve tried everything—barking, nudging, even lying on their face—but they’re glued to it. Only takes me on one walk a day, and rationing treats like they’re made of gold. Needs serious improvement.” Or maybe, “Two stars. Very affectionate but seems lost. Thinks baby talk will solve everything. Would honestly be better off with a goldfish, at least that wouldn’t expect me to do tricks or understand the word ‘sit.’”

So here’s the thing: dogs don’t need us to see them as human; they need us to see them as they are—canine companions with their own rich, instinct-driven perspective. They need guidance, structure, and, yes, affection, but in a balanced way that respects their nature. Instead of expecting them to fit into our lives as fuzzy little roommates or extensions of ourselves, we should strive to create a routine that satisfies their need for leadership and connection on their terms. A daily life that combines mental and physical stimulation, boundaries, and clear roles offers them a sense of security that endless cuddles alone simply can’t provide.

If we’re honest, maybe the heart of the problem isn’t that people don’t love their dogs enough—it’s that they love them too much like humans and not enough like dogs. To truly love a dog means meeting it where it is, giving it the life it deserves rather than expecting it to be someone it’s not. So the next time you find yourself thinking of your dog as a little human in a fur suit, pause and remember: they’re incredible just as they are, and that’s exactly why they deserve to be treated like the dogs they were born to be.

I often think if my dog could talk, he’d probably say something like, “Listen, I love you and all, but if you baby me one more time, I might just go find myself a goldfish tank to chill in.”

Dog Psychology - Understanding the Pack Animal in the House Pet

Dogs are not just pets; they’re creatures with deep-rooted instincts shaped by thousands of years of evolution. And one of the most significant aspects of their nature is that they’re pack animals. This pack mentality doesn’t just mean they enjoy companionship; it means they’re hardwired to understand the world through structure, roles, and routine. Every dog, whether a tiny Chihuahua or a mighty Mastiff, operates with a need to understand where they fit within their “pack”—and in our homes, that pack is the family.

But here’s where things often go sideways. We bring dogs into our homes and expect them to adjust to our human-centric schedules without much thought to how they’re wired. A typical human day looks something like this: we’re glued to a screen for hours, we eat meals at strange times from the dog’s perspective, and we follow a random assortment of activities that often don’t involve anything remotely stimulating for a dog. Dogs, meanwhile, are sitting there wondering, “When are we going to do something real?”

Imagine the bewilderment a dog must feel in a typical household. One minute, they’re called over to the couch and petted endlessly, the next, they’re told to “stay” while we sit down for dinner. Then, once everyone’s finished eating, they’re left alone again as the family becomes hypnotized by the television or goes off to work. In a dog’s mind, it’s a series of random events strung together, and without any structure or predictability, it’s a bit like being in a funhouse where the walls keep shifting.

This disconnect can lead to frustration and anxiety in dogs. Think of a dog’s life in the wild or even in traditional working roles. Dogs in those situations have purpose and routine; they’re led by a clear hierarchy and know what’s expected of them. When they’re left alone in a backyard for hours, or forced into a life of inactivity with the occasional chaotic burst of excitement, it’s like asking a marathon runner to stay inside all day and only letting them sprint for five minutes. Their need for structured, meaningful activity goes unfulfilled, leaving them confused, restless, and often, acting out.

Let’s talk about boundaries, too, because that’s something dogs instinctively respect but many humans find difficult to enforce. Dogs need to understand what’s acceptable and what isn’t in a consistent way. In the wild, a leader doesn’t waver; they set clear signals for what’s allowed and what’s not. But in many homes, the boundaries are blurry at best. One day, it’s perfectly fine for the dog to jump on the couch; the next day, they’re scolded for it. This inconsistency leaves them puzzled, constantly trying to guess which version of the rulebook they’re supposed to be following.

Then, there’s the matter of exercise. Dogs have an inborn need to move, to explore, to use their minds and bodies. This isn’t just about getting rid of extra energy; it’s part of their core identity. A walk around the block once a day might be enough for some dogs, but for many, especially high-energy breeds, that’s like asking a musician to play a single note and call it a symphony. Dogs are explorers; they’re wired to sniff, track, and discover. They need more than just a stroll around the neighborhood—they need engagement that taps into their instincts and challenges their minds.

Consider a dog’s perspective on our modern idea of “down time.” Humans love unwinding in front of the TV or scrolling endlessly on their phones. But for a dog, being cooped up for hours with no chance to engage is maddening. To them, a good day involves action—interacting with their environment, moving, even problem-solving. It’s no wonder that so many behavioral issues, like excessive barking, chewing, or digging, stem from sheer boredom. A dog that’s understimulated will make their own fun, even if it means tearing up the living room cushions or barking at shadows.

This isn’t to say you have to dedicate your life to entertaining your dog. It’s about creating a balanced routine that respects their needs as much as it does yours. Just like humans crave structure and purpose in their days, so do dogs. They want to feel like they have a job, even if that “job” is something as simple as following you around and learning from your cues. Providing that sense of routine and purpose goes a long way toward fulfilling their needs.

One of the simplest, yet most effective ways to do this is to give them structured activities that engage both their bodies and minds. Instead of just playing fetch, try adding a twist by hiding the ball and letting them “hunt” for it. Introduce puzzle toys that require a bit of problem-solving. Even a simple game of hide and seek can turn an ordinary day into a mentally enriching experience for a dog.

If you think about it, most of us understand that young children need structure, boundaries, and activities to thrive. We wouldn’t expect a child to sit still all day without any guidance or interaction. Yet, for some reason, people often expect dogs to simply “fit in” and adapt to a human lifestyle that doesn’t really make sense to them. When we don’t provide them with the leadership and structure they instinctively crave, it’s not just unfair—it’s confusing and even distressing for them.

At the end of the day, dogs want to be part of a pack where they understand their role. They want to know who’s in charge, what’s expected of them, and how to fit into the rhythm of the household. They need more than just random moments of affection or attention sprinkled here and there; they need consistency and clarity. So, the next time your dog looks at you expectantly, maybe ask yourself, “What am I offering them today?” If the answer is “more of the same,” consider changing things up with a new routine, a game, or even a bit of training that challenges them in a way they’ll find meaningful.

Think of this approach as a way of “speaking their language.” Dogs don’t need human-level complexities or sporadic bursts of affection; they need a structured, predictable, and fulfilling daily life that respects who they are as canines. And while we humans might find joy in lounging on the couch or scrolling through our phones, dogs are happiest when their lives have a sense of purpose and order. In other words, a balanced life for a dog doesn’t just happen—it’s something we create together, one structured day at a time.

So, what does all this mean? Well, if you’re looking for a companion who won’t mind hours of downtime, who has no need for structured activity, and won’t look at you with those sad eyes while you scroll through your phone for the tenth time today, then perhaps a goldfish is the perfect pet for you. Goldfish won’t judge your lazy days. They don’t need roles or routines or boundaries—they just swim around in blissful circles, perfectly content with their limited world.

Honestly, if a goldfish could talk, it’d probably thank you for being so low-maintenance. “Don’t worry about exercise,” it would say, “I’m good right here, floating in my tank.” And there’d be no guilt trips for neglecting its “mindset” or “purpose.” Just a couple of flakes in the morning, and you’re golden.

But if you’ve got a dog, remember that you’re living with a creature that expects a little more. So if structured routines, boundaries, and purposeful engagement sound like too much commitment, the pet store is always stocked with lovely goldfish. Just don’t expect them to fetch.

Dogs as Possessions vs. Dogs as Companions

Now, here’s a touchy subject— As much as we might love dogs, many people still fall into the habit of seeing them as possessions rather than as creatures we’re responsible for guiding and nurturing. Think about it: we live in a world where ownership is second nature. We own phones, houses, furniture, cars—and somehow, dogs have gotten lumped into the same category. But unlike a sofa or a coffee table, a dog doesn’t just sit there looking decorative. They aren’t items to display or tools to turn on and off with the push of a button. They’re sentient beings, each with unique personalities, instincts, and needs that demand our attention, respect, and care.

The idea of “owning” a dog brings with it certain expectations. We bring a dog into our home and assume they’ll adapt seamlessly to our lives, fitting neatly into whatever role we envision. We want them to be friendly with our guests, gentle with our children, calm around other pets, and composed in every new environment. But the reality is, dogs don’t come pre-programmed to meet all our expectations. They’re not blank slates, and they’re certainly not robotic in their responses. When we expect a dog to adapt instantly and perfectly to everything we throw at them, we’re setting them up for failure, and we’re missing the whole point of what it means to have a dog in our lives.

Imagine if you were put in the same situation. One day, you come home, and someone’s introduced a new roommate without asking your opinion. Then the next day, they decide you should try a new activity together, like daily yoga, without checking if it’s something you actually enjoy. If this “adapt to whatever I want” approach doesn’t sound fair or respectful for a person, it certainly isn’t fair for a dog either. When we bring a dog into our lives, we’re inviting them into a partnership, not demanding they fit a rigid mold.

Here’s where the concept of stewardship comes in. True stewardship is about guidance, support, and responsibility. When we’re stewards to our dogs, we recognize them as beings with individual needs and preferences. Stewardship means understanding that a dog may not automatically love every person or animal we introduce to their world. It’s not just a matter of expecting a dog to tolerate everything we add to their lives, whether it’s a new pet, a visiting friend, or the latest chaotic family gathering. Stewardship requires us to understand that dogs have their own comfort zones, instincts, and histories that influence their reactions.

Take, for example, introducing a dog to children. Many people assume that dogs should “just know” to be gentle and patient around kids. But in a dog’s eyes, a child may look like a strange, unpredictable creature—someone who moves suddenly, makes high-pitched noises, and may tug on their ears or fur without warning. Expecting dogs to instantly tolerate this without any support or gradual introduction isn’t just unrealistic; it’s irresponsible. A steward doesn’t demand tolerance from their dog—they guide, prepare, and protect. They take the time to help the dog understand and feel comfortable with new situations instead of expecting them to handle it all without question.

Too often, though, people see dogs as status symbols or as measures of their own “good” pet ownership. They want a dog that behaves perfectly in every situation—a pet that proves their success in training or in choosing the “right” breed. But when we view a dog as an extension of ourselves, we risk forgetting that they are individuals with their own needs and feelings. The dog becomes less of a partner and more of a trophy, expected to fit an image rather than to be a living, breathing animal with its own instincts and quirks.

Stewardship, on the other hand, means taking responsibility for creating a life that respects the dog’s true nature. It means recognizing when a dog’s energy level, temperament, or personality might not be a perfect fit for our lifestyle. If we bring a high-energy working breed into a quiet, sedentary home, we need to be ready to provide them with the outlets they need to thrive—or we need to acknowledge that maybe this isn’t the right environment for them. Stewardship is about honoring the dog’s needs, not forcing them to conform to our convenience.

To be a true steward is to meet a dog where they are and help them grow within a healthy, supportive environment. It’s about providing the guidance and stability they need to feel safe, secure, and fulfilled—not just in ways that suit us, but in ways that honor their unique personality and instincts. When we approach dog ownership as stewardship, we give our dogs the time and space they need to settle into new experiences, to adjust at their own pace, and to feel secure in knowing we’re there to support them.

This is the difference between treating a dog as a possession and taking on the role of a responsible steward. A dog isn’t here to prove our training prowess or to show off to our friends. They’re here as companions who deserve respect and care, not as trophies or items to control. The real work of being a dog owner lies in embracing that responsibility—not expecting the dog to “work” in every way we want but taking the time to understand and respect what works for the dog.

And if this sounds like too much, there’s always the trusty goldfish. Goldfish require no training, no guidance, no complex understanding of needs or boundaries. They’ll never question your choices or ask for more from you. A couple of flakes a day, a bit of fresh water, and they’re perfectly content. Goldfish aren’t here to be stewards for; they’re just happy to swim around in circles, indifferent to whether or not you’ve taken the time to understand them. So if you’re looking for something easy to “own,” maybe head for the fish tank. But if you’re ready to be a true steward, your dog will be waiting, ready to welcome you into a relationship that’s worth every bit of the effort.

Ethical Dog Ownership - Why Compatibility and Care Matter More than Control

Let’s get one thing straight: a dog is not here for us to control. The relationship between human and dog shouldn’t be about dominance; it should be about mutual respect. When we bring a dog into our lives, we’re not signing up to be their dictator. Instead, we’re stepping into a role of guidance and support—a steward who helps the dog thrive, just as much as they enrich our lives.

Too often, people approach dog ownership with a desire for control. They want a dog that follows every command perfectly, that acts like a well-oiled machine. And sure, there’s nothing wrong with training—training is an essential part of dog stewardship. But training shouldn’t be about squashing a dog’s personality or bending their will until they’re nothing more than a quiet, compliant shadow. Effective training is about giving dogs the tools they need to navigate our world successfully and safely, not turning them into something they’re not.

Stewardship in dog ownership means respecting who the dog is, not just who we want them to be. It’s about meeting them halfway, understanding that they’re a unique individual, and working with their natural personality and instincts rather than against them. Some dogs are naturally a bit reserved, while others are more outgoing. Some are stubborn and independent; others are eager to please. A true steward doesn’t try to turn a shy dog into a social butterfly or force a naturally independent dog to be a lapdog. Instead, they find ways to honor that dog’s natural tendencies while guiding them toward a balanced, healthy, and happy life.

Think of it this way: if you were a musician, and someone handed you a piece of music with the instruction to “play it exactly as written,” would you feel a sense of connection to the piece? Probably not. You’d be focused on following the notes, with little room for expression. Now imagine if, instead, you were invited to interpret the piece in a way that honors your style and abilities. Suddenly, it’s not just about the notes; it’s about the experience. That’s the difference between control and stewardship. Control forces the dog into a rigid framework; stewardship allows the dog’s natural personality to shine within the boundaries of a safe and healthy relationship.

Stewardship also means recognizing that a dog’s needs can change over time. A young, energetic dog may thrive on daily runs and mental challenges, but as they age, their needs shift. Stewardship means adapting to these changes and being there for the dog at every stage of life. It’s about being attuned to their cues, understanding when they need more support, and adjusting our expectations as they grow and age. A steward doesn’t cling to rigid plans; they remain flexible, allowing the relationship with the dog to evolve as naturally as the dog does.

There’s also an ethical responsibility in being a steward to our dogs. This means understanding that a dog isn’t here to meet every whim or to simply fit into our lifestyle. When we decide to bring a dog into our lives, we have to ask ourselves some serious questions. Are we choosing a dog based on its compatibility with our lifestyle, or are we drawn to an idea of what the dog represents? A true steward considers the breed, temperament, and individual needs of a dog carefully, ensuring that they can meet those needs for the long haul.

Bringing home a dog because they look good on Instagram or because they’re “popular” is a recipe for frustration and disappointment—for both you and the dog. Instead, choosing a dog that truly fits your daily rhythms, activity level, and capacity for stewardship sets the stage for a fulfilling, balanced partnership. Stewardship is about realistic expectations and ethical choices, not about forcing a square peg into a round hole.

And here’s another critical piece of stewardship: understanding that a dog is not a possession. They are not ours to “own” or to “control” in the conventional sense. They are ours to care for, to guide, and to respect. This perspective shift—from ownership to stewardship—changes everything. It allows us to see the dog as a companion who shares our life, rather than something we manage. We begin to notice their individuality, to appreciate their quirks, and to honor their needs just as we would with any other important relationship in our lives.

So, if you’re not prepared to respect a dog as a sentient being with their own needs, or if the idea of adjusting your life around a creature who thinks, feels, and has a personality seems daunting, then maybe a goldfish is a better choice. Goldfish don’t have the same individual quirks. They don’t need you to honor their instincts, they don’t require your flexibility, and they certainly don’t expect you to be a steward. They’re content to live their entire lives without asking for anything beyond the basics—a few flakes, a clean tank, and maybe a bubbling castle to swim around.

In short, if you want a companion that requires nothing more than basic care and minimal commitment, the goldfish won’t mind. But if you’re ready for the rich, rewarding journey of being a true steward—adjusting to your dog’s unique needs, adapting as they grow, and respecting them as they are—then welcome to the world of dog ownership. It’s a journey that may ask a lot from you, but it’s one that’s worth every bit of effort.

Why a Goldfish Might Actually Be Perfect for You

So, what’s the takeaway here? It’s simple: dogs aren’t here to fit into our lives as neatly as a new piece of furniture. They’re not passive pets who swim circles in a bowl, content with the bare minimum of interaction and a sprinkle of flakes. They’re vibrant, thinking, feeling beings with unique needs and quirks that can turn our everyday routines upside down—and that’s exactly why we love them. But to truly honor this love, we have to meet them where they are. We have to be stewards, guiding them through a world that doesn’t always make sense to them.

For some people, however, the level of commitment that stewardship requires might feel a bit overwhelming. And there’s no shame in that. Loving dogs doesn’t mean you have to own one. A true dog lover understands that part of respecting dogs is acknowledging what they need to thrive—and, for some, that may mean realizing that their lifestyle is better suited for a different kind of pet altogether.

This brings us, once again, to the humble goldfish. If you’re drawn to animals but aren’t quite ready to take on the role of steward, a goldfish might be just what you need. Goldfish are, quite honestly, perfect in their simplicity. They have no demands for exercise, they don’t need mental stimulation, and they won’t bat an eye if you skip the structured boundaries and training. They just keep swimming, happy with their limited tank and their simple flakes. They’re the zen masters of the pet world, floating serenely, asking nothing more from you than a bit of clean water and the occasional castle decoration for ambiance.

Imagine a world where dogs had the same attitude. Your German Shepherd, happy to float around the living room, content with a food bowl and a comfy spot on the couch. Or your Border Collie, lounging serenely without feeling the urge to herd every moving thing in sight. But no, dogs aren’t wired that way. They’re here to engage with us, to bring joy and challenge, to make us laugh, and, yes, to make us work a little harder. And that’s what makes them so remarkable.

For those who are ready to step up and become stewards, dogs will reward you with companionship that’s rich and deeply fulfilling. A dog can teach you patience, adaptability, empathy, and a sense of responsibility that extends beyond yourself. They’ll remind you every day that love is about meeting the needs of another being, not just molding them to fit into our own expectations. And while this might mean adjusting your routine, or finding the time to play fetch when you’d rather be binge-watching, the rewards are worth every effort.

So, if you’re truly ready to welcome a dog into your life with all their complexities and quirks, then embrace the role of steward. Give them the structure, respect, and guidance they deserve. Meet them halfway, or even three-quarters of the way, because they’re doing their best to meet you too. And if you find that the idea of adapting to a dog’s unique needs feels a bit overwhelming, well, there’s always that trusty goldfish tank.

After all, a goldfish won’t care if you’ve read up on dog psychology or mastered the art of positive reinforcement. It won’t need you to consider its primal instincts or exercise schedule. It’ll be there, floating in its little bubble, perfectly content with a life of quiet simplicity. And let’s be honest, there’s something admirable about a pet that’s this low-maintenance. But if it’s a true partnership you’re after, if you’re ready for a companion who’ll challenge you and love you in ways that no other pet can, then a dog is waiting to make your life richer, messier, and infinitely more rewarding.

So go on, ask yourself: Are you a steward, or are you a fish tank kind of person? There’s no wrong answer, but for those willing to step into stewardship, your dog will thank you—with loyalty, joy, and a lifetime of wagging tails. And if you go the goldfish route, well, it’ll thank you too, in its own quiet, circular-swimming way.