About dogs, control, and a country that leaves little room
Something Strange Is Going On
We all know it. Truly, all of us.
Hovering over your dog monitoring every step, managing every glance, controlling every choice isn’t healthy.
Not for your dog, not for your relationship, and honestly, not for your own nervous system either.
And yet… we do it.
Or rather: we are slowly but surely being pushed into it.
Welcome to the Netherlands.
A Country Full of Expectations
Walking your dog should be simple.
Walk.
Sniff.
Look.
Breathe.
But in the Netherlands, a walk is rarely just a walk.
Your dog is expected to:
- be social, but not too enthusiastic
- listen, but also stay relaxed
- ignore other dogs, unless play is appropriate
- keep the leash loose
- come immediately when called
- not chase
- not sniff too much
- not wander too far
- and above all: not bother anyone
And all of that… preferably at the same time.
Everyone you encounter has consciously or unconsciously an expectation.
And those expectations often completely contradict each other.
One person says, “Why isn’t your dog off-leash?”
Another complains, “Can you keep your dog close?”
One believes dogs should play.
Another wants peace and distance.
And you?
You’re standing in the middle. With your dog.
And with a mind that’s working overtime.
The Birth of the Helicopter Owner
Because what happens when you constantly feel like things could go wrong at any moment?
You start managing.
You call your dog back sooner.
You correct more quickly.
You prevent situations before they even arise.
You monitor everything absolutely everything.
Not because you want to.
But because it feels like you have to.
And before you know it, you’ve become one:
a helicopter owner.
Not out of a need for control.
But because of pressure.
The Exhaustion No One Sees
What people often don’t realize is how incredibly exhausting this is.
Walking is no longer relaxing.
It becomes a task. A responsibility.
A kind of social test you have to pass over and over again.
You’re no longer enjoying your dog.
You’re preventing.
Preventing him from going too far.
Preventing him from doing something “wrong.”
Preventing others from having an opinion.
So you’re constantly scanning:
Where are people coming from?
Do I already see a dog approaching?
How is my dog reacting?
Should I call him?
Call him again?
And again…?
Ten, twenty times per walk.
And yes repetition without necessity creates frustration.
In you. But also in your dog.
What This Does to Your Dog
This is where it gets interesting.
And, to be honest, a bit uncomfortable.
Because while we think we’re “doing the right thing” by controlling everything, something else is happening beneath the surface.
A dog that is never allowed to make mistakes…
doesn’t learn.
A dog that isn’t allowed to make its own choices…
doesn’t develop confidence.
A dog that is constantly called back…
stops thinking independently.
Because learning = trying + making mistakes + adjusting.
Just like with humans.
But we’ve become a society where dogs are hardly allowed to make mistakes anymore.
And so, we end up creating dogs that:
- become insecure
- grow dependent
- show less initiative
- build up stress more quickly
Not because they are “difficult.”
But because they aren’t given the space to learn.
My Own Dogs as a Mirror
With five dogs, I see this effect very clearly.
When we spend extended time in the Netherlands, I notice their confidence decrease.
Not dramatically. Not all at once.
But subtly.
Less initiative.
More checking in.
Faster reliance on me.
And I feel it in myself too.
My stress levels rise.
I become more alert. More rigid. Less relaxed.
Because I know:
one moment of “not paying attention”
and something might happen that someone will have an opinion about.
So I watch them closely.
All five of them.
With hawk-like focus.
Not because I want to.
But because the system demands it.
So, the Big Question…
Should we just accept this?
Should we all become helicopter owners?
No.
But we can acknowledge how difficult this really is.
Maybe the Solution Isn’t More Control
Maybe the solution isn’t better training.
Not more obedience.
Not tighter management.
But something else.
Gentleness.
Toward yourself.
Toward your dog.
And perhaps the hardest of all toward each other.
Because imagine if we:
- judged a little less quickly
- allowed a bit more room for “not perfect”
- understood that learning takes time
- accepted that dogs are, simply, dogs
Then space is created.
Space for growth.
Space for mistakes.
Space to breathe.
In Closing
Maybe the reality is that the Netherlands will never become a place where dogs can always roam freely without concern.
But that doesn’t mean we have to stay stuck in control and anxiety.
We can look for balance.
Between guidance and letting go.
Between safety and freedom.
Between expectations and reality.
And maybe… just maybe…
every now and then, we can allow ourselves to think:
let him just be a dog for a moment.
Even in the Netherlands.