Last week, I sat in a car park and cried. Properly cried. Not the delicate, single-tear-rolling-down-the-cheek kind either - the full-on, can't-catch-your-breath kind of crying. And the reason? My dog Fred had just had what felt like the worst training session ever.
Now, I know what you might be thinking. "But Debbie, you're a dog trainer! Aren’t your dogs perfect?" And that's exactly why I need to share this story. Because if there's one thing I want you to take away from this blog, it's this: dog trainers are human too and our dogs make us feel completely rubbish sometimes.
The Backstory: Fred and the Plan That Went Sideways
Let me tell you a bit about Fred. He's four years old now, a sensitive soul who we originally got to be an emotional support dog for my daughter. Spoiler alert: life had other plans. Shortly after we brought him home as a tiny eight-week-old puppy, everything changed. My youngest daughter developed severe anxiety about school and suddenly I had two children being educated at home instead of one.
The timing couldn't have been worse for Fred's training. When I'd had previous puppies, I had six glorious hours a day whilst the girls were at school to focus on puppy training, socialisation and all those crucial early experiences. With Fred? I was suddenly navigating educational challenges, dealing with authorities and managing my eldest daughter through autistic burnout - all whilst trying to train an adolescent dog.
And here's where the mum guilt kicks in - I know Fred didn't get what he needed during those critical early months. I tried my best but real-world exposure just didn't happen as much as it should have. He's a lovely dog at home - calm, affectionate, bloody amazing actually. But the outside world? That's where he struggles.
The Training Session From Hell
Recently though, things had been brilliant. Fred's walks were going really well. He wasn't barking at bins anymore (yes, that was a thing), he wasn't getting startled by people popping out unexpectedly and he was even walking nicely on the lead. I was feeling proper chuffed with our progress.
My husband had been taking Fred to training classes, which was wonderful. But last week he mentioned he'd really struggled so he asked me to come along and show him some techniques. I fully expected Fred to be better behaved for me. Not in a big-headed way but dogs do tend to have their person, don't they?
Well. That assumption came crashing down spectacularly.
Fred was awful. Not in a naughty way - he wasn't misbehaving - but he was really, really struggling. He wouldn't eat food (something we'd overcome ages ago), he couldn't engage with me, he was distracted by everything and everyone. Years of work on ignoring people went out the window as he barked his "I want to say hello to everybody" bark. Watching it unfold, I thought, "If I was watching this, I'd think she must be a rubbish dog trainer."
The Emotional Fallout
I kept my cool during the session. I gave him space, adjusted what we were doing, stayed calm and level-headed. But inside? I was crumbling. And the moment I got him back in the car, all those emotions came flooding out.
I felt embarrassed. I felt guilty. Massive, overwhelming mum guilt that this was all my fault because I'd never done enough for him. I felt like everything we'd worked on had been pointless and we'd regressed about 51 million steps. Even though I knew, rationally, that he's a lucky dog to have us, in that moment all I could think was that I'd completely failed him.
Finding the Rational Brain Again
As you know, emotions are powerful and when we're overwhelmed, our rational thinking goes right out the window. Sound familiar? It's exactly what happens to our dogs when they're stressed.
Once I'd had a good cry and the rational part of my brain came back online, I could start thinking clearly. With the help of my brilliant training team (who were wonderfully supportive even when I didn't want to hear it), we worked out what had actually happened.
Fred had been out for a two-hour walk that day and was probably knackered. It was late evening and getting darker - he's a morning dog. He'd had a dodgy tummy the week before. My mum's dog had been at our house, which always puts him a bit on edge. All of these things added up to one very overwhelmed dog having a really bad day.
The Silver Lining
And you know what? Looking back, it was actually a really positive experience. My husband felt massively better because Fred wasn't worse with him after all. I've now got a clear plan moving forward: I won't take Fred to evening classes after long walks, I'll sort out his tummy issues properly and I'll get him to more morning sessions.
You're Not Alone
So if you've ever had a day where your dog made you feel like the worst dog parent in the world, let me tell you: you're completely normal. We all have these days. I have them, your neighbour has them, every dog owner has them.
The important bit is to let those feelings out, talk to someone about it and then, when you're back in your rational brain, make a plan. Don't see it as a failure. See it as valuable feedback that helps you move forward.
Most importantly, talk about it. Share it. Because when you do, you'll find a whole community of people going, "Oh wow, me too!" And honestly, knowing you're not alone makes all the difference.
If you're looking for that community of fellow dog owners who get it - the ups, the downs and the ugly crying in car parks - come and join us in the
Potter Paws Facebook Group. It's a brilliant space where we share our wins, our woes and everything in between. You'll find loads of supportive dog parents who've been exactly where you are, plus our training team are always on hand to offer a bit of guidance too. We're a friendly bunch, and we'd love to have you!
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