After our senior dog, Arthas, passed away in May 2023, I felt like I could never adopt another dog. That feeling – much like the other sentiments I’ll be expressing in this article – isn’t unique. Pet owners often feel that their recently deceased pet was so unique, so lovable, and so perfect that they could never love another pet as much. But, they often do. We find that while no one ever replaces our previous pets, there’s enough room in our hearts to love another pet just as much. And, like so many other people, my partner and I found room to love and adopt again, and in October, we welcomed Simon to our family.
Simon, a two-year-old lab/border collie mix, came to a rescue in MN from a hoarder situation in his home state. Like Arthas before him, he came with one special trick he’d learned in his past life. Arthas’ signature move was a hug, and Simon’s is “sit pretty”, which means he sits with his front paws in the air just begging for a treat. Adorable!
But, being a two-year-old rescue, there was a lot he didn’t know yet. He had zero leash walking skills; I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t pulled my arm off yet. He didn’t know “stay,” and while he knew his name, he didn’t know to come when called. And, most frustratingly in the Minnesota winter, he likes to “hold it” so he can go outside every 2 hours or so. While he’s exceptionally well-behaved and polite, for the most part, we’ve had to do quite a bit of training with him.
And, philosopher that I am, I started to notice that, as I trained Simon, I was also growing – specifically, in virtue.
Now, the idea that we humans learn something important when we work with dogs is nothing new. Seriously, there are tons of articles out there titled something like “10 lessons we learn from dogs.” And, from a scholarly point of view, the idea that we could learn virtue from dogs is at least debatable: Aristotle, in his philosophy of friendship, maintained that the highest form of friendship – friendship of virtue – is between two equals who help each other grow in virtue. Now, my dog has those border collie smarts, and he is exceptionally skilled at escaping his crate, but I doubt that he thinks much about virtue. So it is, at least in the strict Aristotelian sense, impossible for us to have that kind of friendship.
I think, however, that there is a very special kind of friendship between humans and dogs that simply isn’t considered in Aristotle’s work, but is nevertheless deserving of attention and contemplation. It’s a bond that resembles several different kinds of relationships seen in humans, but doesn’t quite fit into those familiar categories. For instance, there is some degree to which it resembles a parent-child relationship. It’s my responsibility to care for Simon, keep him safe, and teach him good manners. But more than that, as I get to know Simon better and learned what things he likes, dislikes, and fears, I can help him work past trauma and overcome those fears he encounters every day – not unlike a parent teaching their child how to play baseball with a healthy, but not debilitating, fear of the ball. But, obviously, there are many ways in which our relationship is not a parent-child relationship. Part of the reason I enjoy dogs is because I find them comforting. I like the joy they bring me when I return home from a bad day at work, and I love cuddling a dog if I’m feeling down. It seems like seeking comfort in a child, however, is an inappropriate way to parent – at least, it’s a poor reason to have a child, and a lot of responsibility to place on their shoulders. And, sadly, dogs’ life cycles are much shorter than our own. I can expect Simon to grow old and pass away long before I do, like my previous three dogs have. Parents hope they do not outlive their children, and in most cases, they don’t. But dog owners expect to, and prepare accordingly.
In the human-dog relationship, I’m most struck by how, as I teach Simon skills that are useful in his dog-life, I grow in human virtue. Sometimes, Simon has more agency in this teaching process than in others; I’ll illustrate some of those instances below. So, without further ado: Three virtues made better by dogs.
1. Patience
When I was 13, my sister and I raised two very young sheltie puppies. Now, there’s this common perception that puppies are adorable and wonderful and awesome. And while that’s true, they’re also stubborn, messy, loud, needy, and extremely energetic. They are just exhausting to care for. Rocky and Ringo had to be let out to do their business frequently, so we had a midnight, 3am, and 5am shift to give them potty breaks. Those breaks, at least at first, often involved cleaning up messes as they learned where it’s acceptable to go to the bathroom and where it isn’t. The only solution for this was to keep going, be consistent, and above all, be patient.
Patience, when working with dogs, isn’t a passive kind of patience that one might need when, for instance, waiting for final grades to come in. It’s an active patience that requires engagement with the dogs, careful and calm repetition of training behavior, and not losing your cool even when it’s really hard (and trust me, three puddles into 5am, it’s hard not to be visibly frazzled). Dogs are smart, and many of them are also emotionally intelligent. If you’re upset, impatient, exasperated, etc., they know, and it can make them regress in their training. So, no pressure, but DON’T PANIC.
Patience in training is also, if you let it be, a pleasant journey. I’ve found that the key to warding off frustration is appreciating all the progress my dog has made and reflecting on what things were like when I first got him. I keep a dog training journal, which I absolutely recommend; it’s a great way to remind yourself of how far you’ve both come. For example, when we brought Simon home, he was scared of everything. For the first few weeks, I was careful not to set my fork down too hard on my plate, as the sound of metal hitting ceramic sent him into a panicked retreat to the bedroom. I’ve never had a dog so alarmed by sounds before, but I did my best to get him used to things that make noise. One trick, which probably makes me look crazy, is to pet the object your dog is scared of and to tell that object it’s very good. (Cue me, sitting on the couch, petting a soda stream bottle prone to that fizz sound when I open it, and telling it that it’s a very good bottle). This lets your dog know that the object isn’t a threat. Simon still gets scared of unexpected noises, and it’s easy to wonder if I’ve done enough, or worse, if he’s not entirely comfortable in his new home. But, looking back, I remember how much more he jumped at – I even kept a list: Today Simon is scared of: Wind chimes, the back door closing, the heater turning on, coffee brewing, and the trashcan lid closing. It’s very clear he’s a much more confident dog now, and has even figured out how to avoid things he still finds unpleasant; he won’t walk over manhole covers because of the different footfall sound it makes compared to the sidewalk, but he no longer jumps if I walk over it. I’m looking forward to the progress he makes in the next few months as well, but it’s also quite impressive how much he’s learned already, and I like to remind myself of that on our walks together.
Oh, and bonus? I’m teaching Simon patience and he gets it. He’s a smart guy. They told us he’s lab and border collie, which means he’s a mix of two of the smartest breeds out there and truly, he is a doggie Einstein. I decided to teach him “wait,” which is different than “stay.” It means “hang on a minute,” “good things will happen in 5 mins but I hear you,” and in the morning, “ok ok stop licking my face, I’m getting up in 5 mins I promise.” And wouldn’t you know, he is learning patience! When we drive somewhere together, he knows to chill in the passenger seat until I come get him. When we walk, if I tell him to wait while I’m picking up after him, he’ll sniff somewhere close by until I’m done, and then will be by my side to resume walking. We got him a snuffle mat, which is a kind of feeding/smelling puzzle for dogs; you can hide their dinner inside little fabric flowers, and they have to dig and sniff it out. Absolutely vital for Minnesota winters. And, with the “wait” command, he’ll sit patiently watching me prepare his dinner, only engaging when I tell him “ok.” It’s so rewarding, and so cool, to watch him progress in ways I didn’t even realize was possible for dogs.
2. Habits of Care
You might not recognize this one from original Aristotelian virtues, but then, I’ve been thinking about this in broader terms. There’s a lot of debate in the virtue ethics literature about new virtues, and what’s an appropriate expansion of the widely-accepted list(s), and honestly, I couldn’t nail down quite what single virtue encompasses what I mean here. This is a tricky one, but let’s roll with it for now and see what I mean.
You’ve probably heard it said a few times that caring for a pet can improve mental health. (Impressively, but best left to another post, there’s a recent study that indicates dogs greatly reduce our chance of dementia). My own dogs’ impact on my own mental health was so natural and routine that I only noticed it once they were gone.
Dogs become part of our routines pretty quickly. While it might take a few weeks (or even a few months) to get a good walking schedule going, there’s no delaying the feeding and bathroom break schedules. All that – quite unconsciously and naturally – became part of my morning routine. Wake up, get some coffee brewing, let Arthas outside, get him breakfast, and then get my own breakfast. Arthas was never super insistent that I get up at the same time every day, and he was good about letting us sleep in on weekends (Simon less so – I wake up to a cold nose prodding my hand most days now). But just the routine of waking up and caring for someone other than myself helped me form more regular habits. When Arthas passed away, my sleep schedule got out of control pretty much immediately. With no one relying on me, my focus (uncomfortably) had nowhere to turn but to myself. And I can make up lots of excuses to not care for myself which I would never make for my dog! It’s okay to become nocturnal, I’d tell myself. After all, it’s summer, I’m not teaching, and I can work on my dissertation at 3am if I’d like. But that schedule disrupted my social life, and I found myself resistant to meeting up with anyone before 10am. With Arthas gone, I had no dog to care for, and I found that it was also harder to care for myself.
When people said that dogs give you a reason to get out of bed, I always pictured someone staring at the ceiling until they make a deliberate decision to get up because their dog needs them. I’ve found, in my experience, that this isn’t the case. Instead, dogs have helped me habituate into a routine of care. I do it without thinking, so much so that I don’t notice it until they’re not here anymore. Habituation is key to virtue, and also key to establishing a predictable routine that makes your dog feel more grounded and at home. It’s a win/win!
3. Hope
“Okay” you might be saying. “This is all well and good but so far I’m seeing an awful lot about what you learn while training or caring for a dog, and very little about what the dog actually does to teach you virtue.” This is a good point! While it’s perfectly fair if you learn most incidentally or along the way, I do think it’s worth discussing what dogs do that we can learn from – no training required.
The problem is, dog virtues are proper to dogs, and human virtues are proper to humans. Some of them translate – I think courage is a good one. Both dogs and humans benefit from learning when not to rush head-on into danger, and when running from it is inappropriate. But, some virtues don’t match up for us at all. For instance, if I were writing an article about doggy virtues, I’d definitely include one on absolute obedience, while for humans, it’s a cardinal virtue to think critically. But one command a dog should always respond to, and I mean 100% of the time, is recall. When I call Simon to me, I need him to immediately drop what he’s doing and come to me. It’s important because there may come a day when I see a danger he does not – like a car, my worst fear. So, there are definitely virtues that don’t overlap, and things humans are best off not learning from dogs.
In my experience with my two rescues (Simon and Arthas) and volunteering at a local rescue organization, one thing I’m struck by is how many dogs live through absolutely terrible situations and maintain hope that better days will come. I can’t tell you what a dog is thinking, but it seems to me that each of my dogs has understood, somehow, that human visitors are there to take them home. Some dogs have been so terribly abused that they shy away from human contact. Others, despite whatever situation led to their being in a shelter, approach strangers with a wagging tail and an openness that I can only describe as hope, a recognition that these people may be the ones who take you home, feed you, play with you, and take you for walks. Maybe I’m projecting. I don’t think anyone has figured out just how much dogs understand in that situation.
But I’m often struck by how many dogs are so willing to embrace life after a traumatic event (or a chain of them). Arthas, the first dog my husband and I adopted together, was most likely dumped by his former owners in Houston. He was found wandering the streets and was picked up by animal control. No one came to claim him; no lost dog postings were to be found (I checked). He was put on the euthanasia list because, at 6 years old, many people thought he was too old to adopt. Austin Humane Society (shout-out!) rescued him, and we adopted him just the next day. He’d been through so much. The abandonment itself is bad enough, but he’d also been bussed to two different shelters, and had been on the street long enough to develop a nasty ear infection. Judging by his behavior, I don’t think he had been treated well at home. He was timid, and especially afraid of the kitchen. He sometimes cringed if I moved my hand too quickly, as if I might hit him. And yet…
This is the face he gave me when he first met me. It became his signature: head rested between my knees, eyes gazing up at me, asking to be petted. You can see why my heart melted immediately, right? And it amazes me how, after all he’d been through, after all humans had done to him, he still looked at me like that right away. And though it takes dogs a while (about 3 months, actually) to really adjust to a knew home, he knew he was home right away. After a cautious and somewhat timid exploration of our apartment, he hung out with us for a few hours before rolling over on his back and enthusiastically requesting belly rubs.
There’s so much in that gesture: trust, love, and yes, hope. Because no matter how bad his life had been for the past 6 years, he was ready to embrace life with us. When he met us, he was not defeated by all he’d been through; he was ready to join a family. And, unfortunately, some dogs do lose hope. You might have seen their pictures on shelter websites. It takes a lot of work to win their trust back. Despite all that, I’m constantly amazed that so many dogs expect better from the future and enthusiastically greet new people and embrace a new home.
And I do think humans can learn from that kind of hope. I know it’s hard; despite all we do, sometimes, life doesn’t go in good directions, and oftentimes that’s not our fault. I’m reminded of a colleague who did everything right in school: studied hard, got a good GRE school, got into a good graduate program, finished his dissertation on time, etc. He made it to the final round of interviews for a position he really wanted, and it was down to him and another recent PhD graduate. The school ended up choosing his competitor. They said that on paper, the two were nearly identical, and there wasn’t a clear choice between them. They both interviewed well, and they both had a good showing at the teaching demo. But, in the end, they decided the other guy would relate to the students more – he grew up in a rural area, it was a rural school, and they had that in common, but my colleague grew up in the city. I’m sure you have seen your share of similar stories, especially if you’re in academia. It’s so hard to keep hoping things will get better, to fill out another application form without thinking that maybe you should just give up already.
Hope won’t make anything materialize. Arthas could’ve had all the hope in the world, but that wouldn’t make more people visit the shelter. In excess, it can be damaging, making us feel losses harder and blinding us to harsh realities. On the other hand, too little hope makes it hard to keep trying, and importantly, make good impressions while trying. People pick up on dejection and resignation. Losing hope is not just psychologically damaging, but also harmful to our chances of improving our situations. Others pick up on it, like they pick up on the fact that a dog hiding in the back of the kennel will require more work than one greeting them with a wagging tail. I’m not trying to trivialize how hard life can be by comparing a dog’s hope to a job-seeker’s hope (and I know that there are much worse situations out there than striking out on the job market, although unemployment definitely sucks in its own right). I’ve never really understood why people are offended if compared to dogs – I think a lot of dogs are kinder than people and more pleasant to be around, so I’ve never found such comparisons insulting at all. I do find it helpful, when I’m in a bad place, to remember how much Simon or Arthas has been through, or how many bad things other dogs have experienced, and how they nevertheless kept up hope, engaging with the world and showing determination to love life no matter what. What’s been done to some dogs is nothing short of evil, frankly, and much of it is worse than anything that’s been done to me (CW animal abuse: E.g., a friend’s dog was shot with a bb gun for fun. Another was thrown from a moving vehicle. And those are some of the tamer examples that I feel comfortable sharing; I’ve seen much, much worse). Even Simon has been re-homed at least twice, while I was only adopted once! So, I do think there’s a lot we can learn from our dogs’ attitudes towards life, especially the rescues. And one virtue that encapsulates that is hope, and an openness to life when new, possibly good, opportunities arrive.
C. Maples 
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