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If you’ve adopted a rescue dog, you’ve probably heard about the 3-3-3 rule: 3 days to decompress, 3 weeks to learn your routine, 3 months to feel at home. It’s a comforting framework—a timeline that suggests there’s an endpoint to the uncertainty, a moment when your dog will finally “settle in.”

But here’s what I wish someone had told me when I brought home my rescue dogs: the 3-3-3 rule is a general guideline, not a guarantee. And that dog who seems to “regress” around the three-month mark? They’re not backsliding. They’re finally showing you who they really are.

Why the 3-3-3 Rule Exists (And Why It Helps)

The 3-3-3 rule gives new rescue dog guardians something tangible to hold onto during those early, overwhelming days. It acknowledges that adjustment takes time and follows a general pattern:

• 3 Days: Your dog is likely overwhelmed, possibly shut down, and running on survival mode. They may not eat much, might hide, or seem unusually “easy.”
• 3 Weeks: They’re starting to understand the rhythm of your household. When walks happen, where the food comes from, which sounds are normal.
• 3 Months: The honeymoon period ends. Your dog feels secure enough to show you their authentic self—quirks, fears, triggers, and all.

This framework is helpful because it sets realistic expectations and reminds us that early behavior isn’t the whole story. But it’s also where things get complicated.

Every Dog Is Different: Understanding L.E.G.S.

The truth is, there’s no universal timeline for how a dog adjusts to a new home. Some dogs bloom within weeks. Others take six months, a year, or longer to fully decompress. To understand why, we need to look at what shapes each dog’s experience: their L.E.G.S.—Learning, Environment, Genetics, and Self.

Kim Brophey’s L.E.G.S. framework helps us understand that behavior isn’t random. It’s the result of multiple intersecting factors that are unique to each individual dog.

Learning: What Has This Dog Experienced?

A dog’s history profoundly affects how they adjust to a new home.

• A dog who spent their first year in a stable home before ending up in rescue may adjust relatively quickly because they already have a foundation of trust with humans.
• A street dog who survived by avoiding people may take months to believe that hands reaching toward them won’t cause harm.
• A dog who lived in multiple foster homes might seem to adjust quickly—because they’ve learned to adapt to change—but they may never fully relax because they’re waiting for the next move.

The 3-3-3 rule can’t account for whether your dog learned that the world is safe or that it’s something to be feared. Learning shapes everything.

Environment: What World Are They Living In Now?

The environment you bring your dog into matters just as much as the one they came from.

• A rescue dog moving from a chaotic shelter into a quiet apartment may need more time to adjust to silence than one moving into a bustling household with kids and other pets.
• A dog who lived outdoors their whole life may find indoor living—with its strange sounds, reflective surfaces, and confined spaces—disorienting and stressful.
• Your daily routine, the other animals in your home, even your neighborhood’s noise level all affect how quickly a dog can decompress.

One dog’s three weeks might be another dog’s three months, simply because their new environment presents different challenges.

Genetics: Who Is This Dog at Their Core?

Breed tendencies and individual temperament play a significant role in adjustment.

• A herding breed may feel anxious in a home where there’s nothing to “manage,” making their adjustment rockier.
• A hound bred for independence might seem aloof for months, not because they’re traumatized, but because bonding deeply with humans isn’t hardwired into them the same way it is for a velcro breed.
• Some dogs are genetically more adaptable and resilient; others are more sensitive to change and take longer to feel secure.

Genetics don’t determine destiny, but they do influence how a dog experiences and responds to their world. The 3-3-3 rule doesn’t account for the fact that some dogs are simply wired to take things slower.

Self: Who Is This Individual Dog?

Finally, there’s the dog’s unique sense of self—their age, health, current emotional state, and personal preferences.

• A senior dog may take longer to adjust because change is harder on an aging body and mind.
• A dog in chronic pain might seem reactive or shut down, not because of their history, but because they don’t feel well.
• An adolescent dog might appear to adjust quickly and then “fall apart” during their teenage months—not because they’re regressing, but because adolescence is hard.

Every dog is an individual. The 3-3-3 rule can’t capture that.

The “Regression” That Isn’t a Regression

Here’s the part that catches people off guard: around the three-month mark, many rescue dogs suddenly seem to get worse.

The dog who was quiet and polite starts barking at visitors. The dog who walked beautifully on leash starts lunging at other dogs. The dog who seemed fine suddenly becomes anxious when left alone.

Guardians panic. “Did I do something wrong? Is my dog broken? Are we going backward?”

No. Your dog is finally showing you who they really are.

The Honeymoon Period Is Real

In those early days and weeks, most rescue dogs are in survival mode. They’re not relaxed—they’re suppressed. They’re trying to figure out the rules, stay safe, and avoid doing anything that might get them moved again. This often looks like a “perfect” dog: quiet, compliant, easy.

But as your dog starts to feel safe, that suppression lifts. They stop performing and start being. The behaviors you see emerging aren’t new problems—they’re your dog’s real personality, real fears, and real needs finally surfacing.

This isn’t regression. It’s revelation.

What You’re Actually Seeing

When your dog starts showing reactivity, anxiety, or other challenging behaviors around the three-month mark, you’re seeing:

• Trust: They feel safe enough to express discomfort instead of shutting down.
• Authenticity: The polite stranger mask has come off, and you’re meeting the real dog.
• Communication: They’re finally telling you what they need, what scares them, what’s too much.

Yes, it’s harder than the honeymoon period. But it’s also more honest. And honesty is what allows you to truly help your dog.

So What’s the Timeline, Really?

There isn’t one. Not a fixed one, anyway.

Some dogs genuinely do follow something close to the 3-3-3 rule. Others take six months to decompress. Some need a full year before they stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. And some dogs—especially those with significant trauma, genetic sensitivity, or ongoing health issues—may always carry a baseline of vigilance that never fully disappears.

And that’s okay.

The point of understanding L.E.G.S. isn’t to diagnose your dog or predict their timeline. It’s to release yourself from the pressure of thinking there’s a “right” way your dog should be adjusting and to instead meet them where they are.

What You Can Do Instead of Waiting for a Timeline

Rather than counting days and weeks, focus on:

• Observation: Notice what your dog is telling you. Are they eating? Sleeping? Playing? These are better indicators of comfort than a calendar.
• Consistency: Provide predictable routines and boundaries. Dogs feel safer when they know what to expect.
• Patience: Let your dog set the pace. Some dogs need weeks of decompression before they’re ready to start learning. Others need structure right away to feel secure.
• Flexibility: Be willing to adjust your expectations based on who your dog actually is, not who you hoped they’d be.

And when the honeymoon period ends and your dog’s real self emerges—the anxiety, the reactivity, the quirks—don’t see it as failure. See it as your dog finally trusting you enough to be honest.

The Real Work Begins After the Honeymoon

The 3-3-3 rule is a helpful starting point. It reminds us that adjustment takes time and that early behavior isn’t the full picture. But it’s not a prescription, and it’s not a finish line.

The real work—the work of truly understanding your dog, meeting their needs, and building a relationship based on who they actually are—begins when the honeymoon ends. When your dog finally feels safe enough to show you their fear, their frustration, their confusion.

That’s not regression. That’s trust.

And trust, messy and complicated as it may be, is exactly what you’ve been working toward all along.

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Does your dog’s adjustment look different than the 3-3-3 rule suggested? That’s not only normal—it’s expected. Every dog is shaped by their unique combination of learning, environment, genetics, and self. There’s no single timeline for healing, and there’s no “right” way to settle in. The best thing you can do is meet your dog where they are and let them show you who they really are, one honest moment at a time.

I watched it happen again yesterday. A guardian radiating pride as their dog sat perfectly still—ignoring every fascinating smell, every friendly dog passing by, every joyful invitation to play. “He’s so well-behaved!” they beamed.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop noticing what the dog was showing me: muscles coiled tight, a hard swallow, eyes darting nervously to check their person’s face. Waiting. Watching. Worried.

This dog wasn’t fulfilled. He was frozen.

And here’s the thing that breaks my heart—this happens all the time. We’ve been taught that this is what “good training” looks like. That a dog who suppresses every natural impulse to please us is somehow thriving.

But what if I told you that your perfectly obedient dog might actually be suffering? That the very behaviors we celebrate as “well-trained” could be warning signs of a dog who’s learned that self-expression is dangerous?

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: We’ve confused human convenience with canine wellbeing. We measure success by the absence of behaviors we find inconvenient rather than by the presence of behaviors that show our dogs are genuinely happy.

What the Science Actually Shows (And Why It Changes Everything)

Okay, so let’s talk about what researchers have discovered about what dogs actually need to be happy. And I promise, it’s going to surprise you—because it has almost nothing to do with obedience.

The research keeps pointing to three things: autonomy, agency, and choice. I know those sound like academic buzzwords, but stick with me—they matter more than you think.

Agency: When Your Dog Gets to Be the Driver

Think about agency as your dog’s ability to make decisions and take action based on what they want, not just what you command. It’s the difference between a dog who gets to choose which direction to explore on a walk versus one who’s constantly corrected back to heel position.

When dogs can exercise agency—when they get to choose, control parts of their environment, and tackle challenges that interest them—something amazing happens. They develop confidence. They build problem-solving skills. They experience what researchers call “positive affective engagement” (basically, they feel good about their lives).

Here’s what really hit me: Studies on therapy dogs found that when guardians support their dogs’ independent exploration, those dogs become more confident and self-reliant. They develop cognitive flexibility. They become more capable, not less.

Now contrast that with traditional obedience training, where your dog waits for permission to sniff, walks only where you direct, plays only with approved toys, and interacts only on command.

That’s not building a capable, confident dog. That’s teaching learned helplessness and dressing it up as “good behavior.”

The Choice Factor (Or: Why Control Matters)

Here’s something that decades of research has proven: Helplessness is stressful. Control is empowering.

Dogs who have more choice and control in their lives handle stressful situations better. Period.

And perhaps most eye-opening? Research on long-term stress found that dogs mirror the stress levels of their guardians. So when we’re anxious about “being the alpha” or stressed about maintaining perfect control, that anxiety transfers directly to our dogs.

The obedience model creates stress for both ends of the leash.

The Stress Your “Obedient” Dog Isn’t Showing You

Now let’s talk about what’s happening inside your dog’s body when we prioritize obedience over everything else. Because the research here? It’s both clear and heartbreaking.

Dogs trained with methods that focus on stopping unwanted behaviors through discomfort or intimidation showed way more stress behaviors during training. Their cortisol levels (the stress hormone) spiked after training sessions. And here’s the part that really got to me: they became more pessimistic.

Let me say that again. These dogs didn’t just show stress during training. They developed a more negative outlook on life itself. When faced with ambiguous situations, they expected bad things to happen.

That’s not training. That’s trauma.

And even approaches that mix rewards with pressure showed significantly more stress than methods focused purely on making cooperation rewarding and safe.

Here’s the kicker that should make us all pause: Research found that obedience scores correlated with making cooperation rewarding, not with making mistakes uncomfortable. But problem behaviors? Those correlated with pressure-based approaches, not reward-focused ones.

Translation: Making mistakes uncomfortable doesn’t even make dogs more obedient—it just makes them more stressed and more likely to develop the exact behaviors we’re trying to prevent.

The most troubling part? A dog can perform perfectly while experiencing chronic internal stress that damages their immune function, metabolism, and long-term health. From the outside, they look “well-trained.” On the inside, they’re struggling.

So What Does Your Dog Actually Need?

If obedience isn’t the answer, what is? Let me show you what fulfillment actually looks like—and I promise, it’s simpler (and messier) than you think.

Let Your Dog’s Brain Actually Work

Here’s something that surprised me when I first learned it: Dogs are highly motivated to use their cognitive skills. When we prevent them from problem-solving and exploring, they actually suffer.

Think about your walks. Is your dog getting to really sniff? Because twenty minutes of free sniffing in a small area gives most dogs more mental satisfaction than an hour of perfectly controlled heel walking.

Research backs this up: Dogs get way more from walks when they can go at their own pace and follow their noses. The structured, brisk walks we’ve been taught to do? Those provide physical exercise only. Self-paced exploration delivers the mental exercise that dogs desperately need.

This also means puzzle toys, scent games, letting your terrier dig in designated spots, or letting your retriever actually retrieve things—activities that are dog-initiated and dog-paced, not just another command to perform.

Start Having Conversations (Yes, With Your Dog)

Consent requires a two-way conversation. And before you roll your eyes at me, I’m not suggesting your dog literally speak English. I’m saying we need to actually pay attention when they communicate through body language.

Here are three ways to start right now:

The pause test: When you’re petting your dog, stop every few seconds. Do they lean in asking for more? Or do they move away? Respect that answer instead of continuing because you feel like petting them.

The choice protocol: Start giving your dog actual choices. Which way should we walk today? Which toy do you want? Your dog has preferences—let them express them.

The opt-out option: In training or play, give your dog the ability to walk away. If they stay, you know they’re genuinely engaged. If they leave, you’ve just learned something important about what they need.

Give Them a Life, Not Just Rules

When dogs get to explore new environments, something shifts. They become more confident. They feel more in control. They develop the skills to handle challenges.

Practically, this means:

• Multiple sleeping spots so they can choose based on how they feel (cool floor vs cozy bed vs sunny spot)
• Letting them decide whether to greet that other dog or person
• Varying their environment—not just the same park, same route, same everything
• Building a relationship where they know you’ll support them, not just command them

The goal isn’t a dog who obeys perfectly. It’s a dog who seeks you when stressed, explores confidently when safe, communicates their needs clearly, and actually shows a full range of emotions without fear.

How to Actually Start Making Changes

I know this might feel overwhelming. You’ve probably been told your whole life that “good dog guardianship” means control and consistency and rules. And now I’m saying the opposite.

So let’s make this practical.

Week One: Just Watch

Spend one week observing your dog without giving commands. Watch what they choose to do. Notice how they communicate. Pay attention to when they seem genuinely joyful versus when they’re just tolerating something.

You might discover your “well-behaved” dog is actually just suppressing their real feelings. Or that they love certain activities you didn’t even notice. Or that they’re trying to tell you things you’ve been missing.

Redefine What Success Looks Like

Stop measuring success by whether your dog sits on command. Instead, look for:

• Relaxed, loose body language during interactions
• Your dog choosing to engage with you because it’s rewarding
• Stress signals decreasing over time
• Your dog approaching new situations with curiosity instead of fear

That’s what fulfilled looks like. Not perfect position. Not immediate compliance. But genuine confidence and joy.

Do an Honesty Audit

Ask yourself these hard questions:

• How many real choices does my dog make each day?
• How often do I check if they actually want interaction before I initiate it?
• Does my dog show stress signals (lip licking, yawning, tense body, avoiding eye contact) during training?
• When does my dog look genuinely happy versus just compliant?

If your answers reveal limited autonomy and lots of stress, your “good training” might actually be compromising their wellbeing—no matter how good it looks from the outside.

What This Means For Your Specific Dog

If Your Dog Has “Behavior Problems”

Before you label your dog’s behaviors as problems, ask: Are these actually problems, or symptoms of unmet needs?

Your reactive dog might not need more obedience training—they might need more autonomy to create distance from things that scare them.

Your “disobedient” dog might not be stubborn—they might be terrified of making the wrong choice because compliance has been so heavily enforced.

Your hyperactive dog might not need more exercise—they might need more mental stimulation that they get to direct.

The research backs this up: Problem behaviors correlate with training approaches that focus on stopping behaviors through discomfort, not with approaches that focus on making cooperation rewarding. Often, we create the very behaviors we’re trying to eliminate.

If You Rescued Your Dog

I hear this a lot: “My rescue needs more structure because of their trauma.”

Actually, traumatized dogs need the opposite. They need to rebuild their sense that the world is safe, that they have choices, that their communication matters.

Research shows that fearfulness and anxiety that shut down exploration are linked to experiences where self-expression led to negative consequences. Healing requires rebuilding agency, not enforcing more obedience.

Your rescue has often learned that autonomy leads to discomfort or conflict. That compliance is the only safe option. Helping them heal means showing them the opposite.

If Your Dog Is “Already Well-Trained”

Pay attention to what happens in neutral moments:

• Does your dog seek out training, or only participate when you initiate?
• Do they show joy during work, or just go through the motions?
• When given freedom, do they explore confidently or stay glued to you waiting for direction?

A dog can be highly trained and still lack fulfillment. The question isn’t what they can do—it’s whether their cooperation comes from trust or from fear of getting it wrong.

The Hard Truth We Need to Face

Here’s what I need you to hear: Much of what we’ve been taught is “good dog training” ranges from irrelevant to actively harmful when it comes to our dogs’ actual wellbeing.

And I know that’s hard to accept. Maybe you’ve spent years perfecting your dog’s obedience. Maybe you’ve invested in expensive training programs. Maybe your dog really does look “perfect” to everyone else.

But if that perfection came at the cost of your dog’s ability to be themselves—to choose, to communicate, to feel safe expressing their needs—then we need to have an honest conversation about what we’re really doing.

This doesn’t mean your dog doesn’t need any boundaries. Boundaries that protect welfare are important. But boundaries that exist just to enforce obedience? That create compliance through fear? Those need to be rethought.

The real question isn’t “How do I get my dog to behave?” It’s “What does my dog need to actually thrive?“

What It Could Look Like Instead

Imagine your dog celebrated not for being perfectly controlled, but for being genuinely confident. Where “well-trained” means a dog who makes choices, communicates clearly, engages enthusiastically—not one who suppresses everything natural to avoid your disapproval.

We’d measure success by loose, wiggly body language. By your dog choosing to check in with you because you’re a source of security, not because they’re afraid of getting corrected. By celebrating when your dog clearly says “no thank you” to unwanted interaction.

A truly fulfilled dog might be messy. Enthusiastic. Imperfect. And you know what? That’s not just okay—it’s exactly what we should want for them.

Where You Go From Here

If you’re recognizing yourself in this article—if you’re realizing that maybe you’ve been prioritizing your convenience over your dog’s emotional needs—first, take a breath. Awareness is the first step toward change, and beating yourself up won’t help your dog.

Here’s what will help:

Start observing without judging. Watch your dog this week. Really watch. What are they trying to tell you?

Count choices. How many real decisions does your dog make each day? Start small—add just one or two more.

Get honest about methods. If your training approach has been focused on stopping behaviors through discomfort or intimidation, acknowledge what that might have cost your dog emotionally. Then explore approaches that make cooperation rewarding and safe.

Practice consent. Start checking in before you pet, pick up, or move your dog. Let them have a voice.

Find better resources. Look for trainers who talk about the L.E.G.S. framework (Learning, Environment, Genetics, Self)—who see your dog as an individual with unique needs, not a problem to fix.

What Really Matters

At the end of your dog’s life, you won’t remember the perfect recalls. You won’t be thinking about how nicely they heeled or how still they sat on command.

You’ll remember the joy in their eyes when they made a choice and you respected it. The trust when they communicated a need and you listened. The authentic bond that came from treating them not as a subordinate to command, but as a sentient being to respect.

That’s the difference between a “good dog” and a fulfilled one.

Your dog has been trying to be good for you. Maybe it’s time we try being good for them.

In my previous article, I talked about how the L.E.G.S.® framework helped me understand both my son with autism and the “difficult” dogs I work with. Today, I want to share another powerful parallel: the difference between drilling commands and teaching skills that generalize across contexts.

The “But They Know It at Home!” Problem

Here’s something that happened constantly when my son was growing up: We’d practice greeting people at home. He’d do great. Then we’d go to the grocery store and… nothing. It’s like he’d never learned it.

Every dog owner out there is nodding right now, aren’t they?

I experience the exact same thing with Rosco. He can be relatively calm in the house. We go outside and encounter another dog on the street? That’s a completely different story. His nervous system kicks into high gear.

Here’s the thing: Just like my son wasn’t being stubborn when he couldn’t apply “hello to Mr. Vines” to greeting his classmates, Rosco genuinely doesn’t automatically transfer what he’s learned in one environment to another—especially when his stress level changes.

Kids with autism often struggle with generalization—they might know how to respond to “hello” but have no idea what to do when someone says “hi,” “what’s up,” or “hey there.” They might make a perfect sandwich at home, but can’t figure it out if the bread is different.

Dogs are exactly the same. They’re contextual creatures. Learning to sit for three seconds in the kitchen when the house is quiet is not the same as sitting in a crowded outdoor shopping center.

This is the Learning piece of L.E.G.S.® in action—understanding that learning doesn’t automatically transfer between contexts, especially under stress.

The Command-Drilling Trap

When I first started working with Rosco’s reactivity, I’d practice the same response in controlled situations until he “got it.” Living room with treats, same time of day, me standing in the same place.

I was making the same mistake well-meaning people made with my son—treating the behavior like a switch that just needed to be flipped, rather than a skill that needed to be built across multiple contexts.

Dogs trained this way become reluctant to try anything new and aren’t good at problem-solving. They learn that the safest thing to do is wait to be told exactly what to do. I was seeing this with Rosco—he’d look to me helplessly in triggering situations, waiting for explicit instructions, because I’d never taught him how to think through his big feelings.

What Changed Everything: Teaching Generalization

My son’s therapists taught me about generalization—intentionally changing variables each time we practiced. Different rooms. Different people. Different times of day. Stand here, then stand there. These small changes help kids with autism learn to handle differences and prepare them for the real world where things are never exactly the same.

I started applying these same generalization concepts with Rosco, and suddenly I could see the shift beginning.

This wasn’t just about the Learning part of L.E.G.S.® anymore—it was recognizing that Environment changes everything. A skill only becomes truly learned when it generalizes across environments and under different levels of stress.

Real Example: Working Through Rosco’s Door-Bolting

Command-drilling approach (what I used to do):

• Make Rosco sit at the door
• Tell him when he could go through
• Only worked when I was there giving commands in a calm moment
• The second I got distracted or he was excited? He’d shoot out.

Generalization approach (what we’re building now):

• Rosco is learning the concept: “When doors open, I pause and check in”
• We practice at every door in the house
• We practice when I’m excited, calm, carrying groceries, talking on the phone
• Rosco is starting to figure out: “Oh, staying calm gets me outside”

Is it perfect? Nope. Some days are better than others. When he’s really excited or stressed, we back up and make it easier. But he’s learning to think about what to do rather than just waiting for me to tell him.

Just like my son needed to understand the concept of greeting people (not just memorize “say hello to Mr. Vines”), Rosco needs to understand concepts too—and that takes time, especially for a nervous dog.

Honoring the Individual (The “Self” Part of L.E.G.S.®)

When dogs figure out “what works” on their own instead of just being told what to do, the training lasts way longer and is much more solid.

With Rosco, this means understanding his unique mix of genetics—that terrier independence, the lab sensitivity, the poodle smarts—all wrapped up with a nervous system that gets overwhelmed easily. I have to work with who he is, not against it.

So instead of drilling commands, I’m teaching concepts (slowly, at his pace):

• Instead of “sit when I say sit” → “calm behavior gets you what you want”
• Instead of “come when called” → “checking in with me keeps you safe”
• Instead of “don’t lunge at other dogs” → “look at me when you’re nervous and good things happen”

Some days we take two steps forward. Some days we take one step back. That’s where the individualized approach matters—and where patience matters even more.

Making It Work: The Practical Stuff

1. Start in multiple places, but at their threshold
I don’t throw Rosco into situations he can’t handle. We practice in different rooms, different times of day, gradually adding distance to triggers—working right at the edge of what he can handle, not way over it.

2. Change one thing at a time (very slowly)
Once Rosco started responding to “look at me” at home, I tried it at the window. Then in the front yard. Then on the sidewalk at a distance from triggers. Little changes build generalization—but rushing it sets us back.

3. Make it WAY easier when you add something hard
When we see another dog on our walks (a huge trigger), I create as much distance as possible and go back to basics—just getting him to glance at me earns a jackpot.

4. Reward trying, not just succeeding
When Rosco is tense but doesn’t lunge? That’s a win. When he barks but then looks at me for encouragement? I celebrate. Progress isn’t linear. Last week, Rosco saw another dog across the street and stayed (mostly) calm, just tense. Yesterday, a dog surprised us and he lunged. But he recovered faster than he used to, and he checked in with me afterward. That’s progress, even if it doesn’t look “finished.”

The Real Magic: Understanding Over Control

Both raising my son and working with Rosco have taught me the same lesson: relationship and understanding trump forced compliance every time.

When we approach both our dogs and our neurodivergent kids with curiosity rather than judgment, everything changes. “What are you trying to tell me?” becomes more important than “Why won’t you just do what I ask?”

Whether it’s my son or Rosco (or Rei, or any of the reactive rescues I’ve helped), they’re all doing their best with the wiring they have. Our job isn’t to fight against that wiring—it’s to work with it, teaching real skills that generalize across contexts and building genuine understanding.

That’s not spoiling. That’s not lowering expectations. That’s smart, compassionate teaching that honors how learning actually works—and that respects the reality that some brains and nervous systems need more time, more patience, and more practice.

When I watch my son now—successfully navigating school, work, relationships—I see someone who learned how to think through situations, not just memorize responses. It took years. There were setbacks. But he got there because we taught him skills that generalized.

When I watch Rosco now, I see the same journey in progress. He’s not “fixed”—he’s learning. When we saw a dog at a distance and Rosco tensed up immediately—but instead of immediately lunging and barking, he looked at me first. He was still tense, still nervous, but he checked in. When I told him “it’s okay, you’re safe,” he took a breath. That’s the skill generalizing, even if imperfectly.

Start Where You Are

Pick one thing you’ve been working on with your dog. Now practice it:

• In three different rooms
• With you in different positions
• At different times of day
• With small distractions, then bigger ones (very gradually)

Watch what happens when your dog starts to figure out: “Oh! This works in more than one place!”

With Rosco, it’s happening in small flickers. But each time he chooses to look at me instead of lunging, each time he responds to my encouragement that he’s safe, each time he recovers a little faster—those are moments when I can see the skill generalizing, even if we’re not “there” yet.

And that’s what the L.E.G.S.® framework keeps reminding me: when we understand Learning, Environment, Genetics, and Self, we stop fighting against who our dogs (and kids) are, and start helping them become the best version of themselves—whatever timeline that takes.

Rosco isn’t a “perfect” dog. My son isn’t a “typical” adult. But they’re both capable individuals who are learning to navigate their worlds because they’re learning how to think, not just how to comply. That journey—messy and nonlinear as it is—is more meaningful than any quick fix ever could be.

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If you’ve ever felt impatient while your dog stops to sniff every lamp post, fire hydrant, and patch of grass on your walk, you’re not alone. But what looks like dawdling to us is actually your dog reading their daily newspaper, checking their social media feed, and leaving messages for friends—all through their incredible sense of smell.

The Extraordinary Canine Nose

Dogs don’t just smell better than humans; they experience the world through scent in a way we can barely comprehend. While humans have roughly 6 million olfactory receptors, dogs have up to 300 million, depending on the breed. The part of a dog’s brain devoted to analyzing smells is proportionally 40 times larger than ours.

To put this in perspective, if you could smell a teaspoon of sugar in your coffee, your dog could detect that same teaspoon of sugar in two Olympic-sized swimming pools. This isn’t just a better version of what we experience—it’s an entirely different sensory reality.

Dogs also possess a special organ called the vomeronasal organ (or Jacobson’s organ) located in the roof of their mouth. This remarkable structure allows them to detect pheromones and other chemical signals that provide information about other animals’ emotional states, reproductive status, and individual identity.

Why Sniffing Isn’t Optional—It’s Essential

For dogs, sniffing serves several critical functions:

Information Gathering: Every surface, object, and patch of ground tells a story. A single sniff can reveal which dogs passed by recently, their sex, age, health status, diet, emotional state, and even whether they’re familiar or a stranger.

Mental Stimulation: The canine brain is wired to seek out and process scent information. Sniffing activates the seeking system in your dog’s brain, releasing dopamine and creating feelings of satisfaction and engagement. Just 15-20 minutes of concentrated sniffing can be as mentally tiring as an hour of physical exercise.

Stress Relief: The act of sniffing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, which helps calm and regulate your dog’s emotional state. When dogs are anxious or overstimulated, sniffing behavior often increases as they attempt to self-soothe and gather information about their environment.

Environmental Awareness: Sniffing helps dogs build a mental map of their territory and stay informed about changes in their environment. This is especially important for dogs’ sense of security and confidence.

The “Pee-Mail” System: How Dogs Identify Each Other Through Urine

When your dog sniffs another dog’s urine, they’re not just smelling waste—they’re reading a complex chemical profile that’s as unique as a fingerprint. Here’s what makes this possible:

Chemical Signatures: Dog urine contains a cocktail of volatile organic compounds, hormones, and pheromones that create an individual scent signature. This signature is influenced by genetics, diet, health status, reproductive hormones, and even gut bacteria. No two dogs smell exactly alike.

The Information Highway: Through urine marking, dogs can determine:

• The individual identity of the dog (have we met before?)
• Their sex and reproductive status
• Approximate age and size
• Health status and diet
• Stress levels or emotional state
• How recently they passed by (scent degrades over time)
• Social status or confidence level

Memory and Recognition: Studies have shown that dogs can remember individual scent signatures for years. Your dog isn’t just smelling; they’re accessing a scent-based memory bank to recognize old friends, identify rivals, and track family members.

Strategic Marking: Male and female dogs both mark, though the behavior looks different. Males typically mark in short, frequent bursts at vertical surfaces (the classic leg lift), while females may squat-mark or kick backward to spread scent. Both sexes are strategically placing their calling cards in high-traffic areas where other dogs are most likely to encounter them.

The Social Network You Can’t See

Think of the neighborhood as a complex social network where scent posts function like status updates. When your dog sniffs a tree, they might learn that three dogs passed by this morning: the spaniel from down the street (female, anxious, walked by two hours ago), an unfamiliar terrier (male, confident, marked over other scents—assertive behavior), and that golden retriever they met last week (excited, recently ate something interesting).

Your dog can even detect directionality—the pattern of scent helps them determine which direction another dog was traveling. This is why dogs often follow scent trails with such determination.

Why You Should Let Them Sniff

Understanding the complexity of canine olfaction reveals why sniffing is so much more than a biological quirk—it’s a fundamental need. When we constantly pull our dogs along on walks without allowing adequate sniffing time, we’re essentially forcing them through their world with their primary sense shut off.

Consider incorporating dedicated “sniff walks” into your routine, where the goal isn’t distance or speed but allowing your dog to engage fully with their environment. The mental enrichment, stress relief, and satisfaction this provides cannot be overstated. A dog who’s been allowed to sniff thoroughly is often calmer, more settled, and better able to focus on training or other activities.

The next time your dog pauses to thoroughly investigate a seemingly unremarkable spot on the sidewalk, remember: they’re not stalling or being stubborn. They’re reading the news, checking their messages, and experiencing their world the way nature designed them to. That patience you extend to let them sniff isn’t just kindness—it’s respect for who they fundamentally are.

We will be “falling back” an hour, and while you might be celebrating that extra hour of sleep, your dog’s internal clock didn’t get the memo. That’s because dogs don’t understand daylight saving time—and honestly, why should they? Their bodies are regulated by natural rhythms, routines, and the predictable patterns you’ve established together as a family.

If your dog has been waking you up an hour earlier than usual, pacing by the door when it’s not quite walk time, or seeming confused about meal schedules, you’re not imagining it. The time change genuinely affects our dogs, sometimes more significantly than it affects us. Let’s talk about why this happens and, more importantly, what we can do to help our dogs—and ourselves—through this biannual disruption.

Why Dogs Are So Affected by Time Changes

Unlike humans who can intellectually understand “the clocks changed,” dogs experience time through their circadian rhythms, routine patterns, and their deep attunement to family rhythms. When we suddenly shift everything by an hour, we’re essentially disrupting their entire understanding of how the day flows.

Dogs Are Creatures of Rhythm and Routine

Think about it from your dog’s perspective. They know that breakfast happens when the house smells a certain way, when light comes through the windows at a particular angle, when you shuffle into the kitchen in your robe. They know walk time by the way your energy shifts, by environmental cues, by the settling of the household. These aren’t just habits—they’re how dogs make sense of their world and feel secure in it.

When we change the clocks, we’re not just shifting numbers on a screen. We’re changing when they eat, when they go outside, when they get exercise, when the house gets quiet for sleep. For a species that thrives on predictability and reads the environment constantly for cues about what happens next, this is genuinely disorienting.

Their Bodies Don’t Know What Time It Is

Dogs operate on circadian rhythms just like we do—internal biological clocks that regulate sleep-wake cycles, hunger, body temperature, and hormone production. These rhythms are influenced by natural light cycles, not by what our phones tell us.

So when daylight saving time ends in fall and it suddenly gets dark much earlier in the evening, your dog’s body is still expecting dinner, play, and wind-down time based on natural light cues. When spring arrives and we “spring forward,” your dog’s body might still need sleep when you’re trying to get them up and active. Their internal clock takes time to adjust—usually about a week or so—and during that adjustment period, behaviors can emerge that communicate their confusion and unmet needs.

What You Might Notice in Your Dog

Every dog responds to disrupted rhythms differently, depending on their genetics, age, stress levels, and how rigid their daily routine typically is. You might see:

Changes in wake-up times: Your dog suddenly acting as their internal alarm clock at what is now 5 AM on your clock but still feels like 6 AM to them.

Appetite shifts: Seeming hungrier earlier or less interested in meals at the “new” time because their digestive system is still on the old schedule.

Bathroom urgency: Needing to go out earlier than usual or having accidents because their biological rhythms haven’t caught up with your new schedule.

Restlessness or anxiety: Pacing, whining, or seeming unsettled because the predictable patterns they rely on suddenly feel “off.”

Energy level mismatches: Being sleepy when you need them active or hyperactive when you’re trying to wind down for the evening.

Increased shadowing or clinginess: Following you more closely because the disrupted routine creates mild stress, and you are their secure base.

These aren’t “bad behaviors” or disobedience—they’re communication. Your dog is telling you that something in their world feels unpredictable right now, and they need help reestablishing security and rhythm.

How to Help Your Dog Adjust: Practical Strategies

The good news is that you can help your dog transition more smoothly through some thoughtful, gradual approaches that honor their need for predictability while gently shifting their schedule.

Start with Gradual Shifts (If Possible)

If you’re reading this before the time change happens, you can help your dog adjust by gradually shifting their schedule by 10-15 minutes every couple of days in the week leading up to the change. Move mealtimes, walk times, and bedtime routines slightly earlier (in fall) or slightly later (in spring) so the one-hour shift isn’t so abrupt.

If you’re reading this after the fact (like most of us), don’t worry—you can still use this gradual approach going forward. Rather than forcing the new schedule immediately, meet your dog where they are and shift incrementally.

Maintain Consistent Routines (Even If Times Shift)

While the clock times are changing, keep the sequence and structure of your routines exactly the same. If your morning routine is: wake up, potty break, breakfast, walk, settle time—keep that exact sequence even if each element is happening at a different hour. The predictability of the pattern helps your dog feel secure even as the timing shifts.

The ritual matters more than the clock time. Dogs don’t wear watches, but they understand sequence, rhythm, and the emotional energy you bring to each part of the day.

Use Natural Light to Your Advantage

Since dogs’ circadian rhythms respond to natural light, use daylight exposure to help reset their internal clocks:

• Morning light exposure: Get your dog outside into natural daylight as early as possible in the morning. This helps signal to their body that it’s time to be awake and active.
• Evening dimming: As it gets dark earlier in fall, use that natural darkness as a cue to begin wind-down routines earlier than you did before. Close curtains, dim lights, and create a calm environment that matches the darkness outside.
• Quality walks: Prioritize walks during daylight hours when possible, as the combination of exercise, natural light, and environmental enrichment supports healthy circadian rhythm regulation.

Adjust Exercise and Enrichment Timing

Your dog’s energy needs haven’t changed, but when they need to burn that energy might feel different during the transition. If your dog is suddenly wired at 8 PM when they used to be settling down, they might need an extra enrichment opportunity earlier in the evening. If they’re sleepy during what used to be play time, they might benefit from a gentler activity or allowing them to rest.

Pay attention to your individual dog’s energy patterns during this adjustment period rather than rigidly sticking to what “should” be happening at certain times.

Be Patient with Bathroom Schedules

During the adjustment period, your dog’s digestive system and bathroom needs might not align perfectly with your new schedule. This is especially true for puppies, senior dogs, and dogs with any health issues.

• Offer extra bathroom breaks during the first week
• Don’t punish accidents—they’re not defiance, they’re biology
• If your dog is waking you earlier for bathroom needs, respond to them; their body genuinely needs to go

Remember: bathroom needs are physiological, not behavioral issues. Responding with patience rather than frustration helps your dog feel safe during an already confusing time.

Consider Individual Differences

Not all dogs adjust at the same pace, and that’s completely normal. Factors that influence adjustment include:

Age: Puppies and senior dogs may have a harder time adjusting because their systems are either still developing or becoming less flexible.

Breed genetics: Some breeds are more adaptable to change, while guardian breeds or those with strong routine-oriented genetics may find disruptions more stressful.

Stress levels: If your dog is already experiencing other stressors (recent move, changes in family, health issues), the time change may compound their stress.

Routine rigidity: Dogs who thrive on very precise routines may need more gradual transitions than more flexible dogs.

This is where the L.E.G.S.® framework becomes helpful—considering your dog’s Learning history, Environment, Genetics, and Self (including health, age, and stress levels) allows you to individualize your approach rather than following one-size-fits-all advice.

Don’t Forget: You’re Adjusting Too

Here’s something we often overlook: if you’re feeling grumpy, tired, or out of sorts from the time change, your dog is picking up on that energy. Dogs are masters of social referencing—they look to us for cues about whether things are okay or not. If we’re stressed about the disrupted schedule, rushing through routines, or feeling irritable about the earlier wake-up calls, our dogs feel that tension.

Take care of yourself during this transition too. Be gentle with yourself if things feel chaotic for a few days. Your own adjustment supports your dog’s adjustment because you’re a system, not separate beings operating independently.

When to Seek Additional Support

For most dogs, time change adjustment is temporary and resolves within 7-10 days with patience and gradual schedule shifts. However, some situations warrant additional support:

• If your dog’s anxiety or stress behaviors escalate rather than improve after two weeks
• If bathroom accidents continue beyond the adjustment period
• If your dog seems genuinely distressed rather than just confused
• If the disruption reveals underlying anxiety or routine-dependency that might benefit from behavior support

These signs don’t mean anything is “wrong” with your dog—they simply indicate they might benefit from individualized support to build flexibility and resilience around routine changes.

The Bigger Picture: Building Flexibility

While we’re focused on this specific time change, there’s a broader principle here: helping dogs develop flexibility around routines while still honoring their need for predictability is one of the most valuable things we can do for their long-term wellbeing.

Life doesn’t always happen on schedule. We get sick, family schedules change, emergencies arise, we travel. Dogs who can tolerate some variation in routine while maintaining a sense of security are more resilient and less stressed overall.

You can build this flexibility gradually by occasionally varying minor aspects of routines intentionally—sometimes breakfast happens in the kitchen, sometimes on the porch; sometimes walks go clockwise around the block, sometimes counterclockwise. Small variations within a generally predictable structure help dogs learn that change doesn’t equal danger.

Moving Forward

The time change is temporary, and your dog will adjust. In the meantime, offer patience, maintain the structure and rituals that create security, and remember that any “difficult” behaviors are simply your dog communicating that their world feels a little uncertain right now.

You’re not doing anything wrong if your dog struggles with this transition. You’re not failing if they wake you up too early or seem confused about schedules. You’re just living with a being whose internal clock runs on rhythms older and deeper than human inventions like daylight saving time.

Meet them where they are. Adjust gradually. Stay connected to the routines and rituals that create safety. And before you know it, everyone in your household will have found their rhythm again—at least until we do this all over again in spring.