The Day I Realised I Had to Change — Not My Dog

Avril Munson
Dec 1
3 min read

There was a time, early on in my journey, when I believed dog training happened only in the moments I decided it was happening.

If I had my dog on a walk…

If I had treats in my pocket…

If I had a plan in my head…

Then that was training.

Everything else — the quiet moments at home, the tiny interactions as we moved through daily life — I simply didn’t consider them part of the picture. I truly thought progress lived only inside those “training sessions”.

Looking back now, I can smile gently at that version of me. She was trying so hard, and yet she couldn’t see the whole story.

Because the day it all changed was the day I realised this simple, humbling truth:

My dog was learning from me all the time — even when I wasn’t “training”.

The Messages I Never Knew I Was Giving

I used to think misbehaviour happened in little pockets — the jumping, the barking, the pulling — isolated moments that needed to be “fixed”.

But dogs live in a world of clarity and consequence. They’re always reading us, always absorbing the message behind what we do, not what we intend.

And without even realising it, I was encouraging behaviour I didn’t want… because I was offering the very things dogs treasure most:

my voice (talking), my touch(if with my hands), my attention(eye contact).

Even when I was frustrated.

Even when I was trying to stop the behaviour.

Even when I was telling myself I was “correcting” something.

To my dog, it didn’t matter whether I said “No!” kindly, firmly, or through gritted teeth. All she felt was the connection — Mum is talking to me.

And that alone was enough to make the behaviour worth repeating.

It was a deeply eye-opening moment.

I wasn’t dealing with a “stubborn” dog.

I wasn’t dealing with a “naughty” dog.

I was dealing with a dog who thought she was doing exactly what I wanted… because I was rewarding her without even knowing it.

The Quiet Shift That Changed Everything

The hardest lesson wasn’t about what my dog was doing.

The hardest lesson was about me.

I had to soften.

I had to slow down.

I had to look honestly at the cues or my reactions that I was giving without meaning to.

I had to accept that my dog wasn’t the one who needed rewriting — my habits were.

When I stopped giving attention to unwanted behaviours,

when I learned to communicate without adding fuel to the fire,

when I realised silence and stillness can be stronger than words…

…my dog blossomed.

Not because I suddenly became a better “trainer”.

But because I became a clearer, calmer human for her to follow.

Why I Don’t Judge — Not the Dog, Not the Owner

This understanding is also the reason that when clients come to me, they often arrive worried that I’ll judge their dog as “naughty”… or judge them for doing something wrong.

But I don’t see “naughty dogs”.

And I don’t see “bad owners”.

I simply see myself, earlier in my journey —

the same misunderstandings,

the same heartfelt effort,

the same desire to get it right.

I see the dogs I loved deeply, and the mistakes I made with pure innocence.

That’s why there is no judgement in my work — only compassion, clarity, and the quiet confidence that change is always possible.

What I Wish I Had Known From the Start

If I could reach back to that earlier version of myself, I would take her hand and tell her:

Training isn’t something you switch on and off.

Your dog is always learning — especially when you aren’t teaching.