What My Dog Taught Me About Children (and Life)

Often, when I’m at school and then look at my dog, I notice an astonishing number of parallels to children, to relationships, to how we interact as human beings.

It’s only in the past few years that I’ve really become aware of this.

I remember, I must have been seventeen or eighteen when I happened to stumble upon Maja Nowak’s books The Woman Who Dances with Dogs and Wanja and the Wild Dogs.Her way of being with dogs, of seeing them, understanding them, and learning something about people through them, touched me deeply.

Back then, I couldn’t fully grasp it, neither with my head nor with my heart, and yet there was something that quietly stayed with me ever since.

So I began to experiment with my dog at the time.Many people said, you’re so strict, he always has to walk next to you.For me, it wasn’t strictness, it was exploration.

How does it feel when he walks beside me? When he walks ahead? What changes between us?He always made it very clear whether it felt right for him, too.

When that dog came into my life, there was an immediate feeling of “Show me who you are.”I felt a clarity within me about what felt right and what didn’t.At the time, I didn’t understand that this was my first real contact with inner leadership.

Presence and Responsibility

During my studies, I didn’t have a dog, but the connection remained.He was like a Buddha on four paws, calm, proud, quiet, and wise.

Often, when I sat in a lecture feeling restless or uncertain, I imagined what Ike would do now.That image grounded me.Just as children sometimes carry spirit animals within them when they seek support, it was a comforting image, not being alone.

When my current dog came to me, from a shelter, already two years old, I began reading Maja Nowak’s work again.This time, I understood: it’s not about obedience or training, it’s about relationship.

It’s about recognizing the being, not shaping the behavior, seeing who he is, what he needs, where he is strong, and where I am called to offer guidance.

And that’s exactly what applies to children.Not to shape them, but to see them.To say: I see you, just as you are.Then, together, to find out what they need, where leadership provides safety, and where they can simply be themselves.

In the forest, just like in the classroom, the same principle applies: presence instead of control.

That’s Not Your Job

One sentence from a “dog-human” workshop has stayed with me:When another dog approaches, you can tell your own dog, that’s not your job, I’ll take care of it.I only truly understood that much later.

If I’m not clear, my dog takes responsibility, responsibility that is actually mine.Just as children do when I’m not fully present in the classroom.Then they fill the space, take the lead, not because they want to, but because they have to.And that’s not their job.

That realization was a turning point for me, how deeply dogs and children mirror us: whether we are centered, whether we are genuine, whether we lead or just pretend to.

Intuition and Reflection

I believe that humans, just like animals, are allowed to listen to their feelings.Intuition is a wonderful indicator of whether something feels right or not.Often, that first impression, that first feeling we have about another being, is already very close to the truth.Animals can help us sharpen that perception.They mirror us.

I experience this again and again with my dog.When I’m tense, restless, or off balance inside, he senses it immediately.Then he either mirrors my state or helps me return to my center by staying close, seeking touch, or simply being there.

Whoever takes their animal seriously, in its true nature, and allows it to show who it is, learns to recognize those same qualities within themselves.I believe that this mirroring is deeply important for all of us, that it helps us allow others to simply be human, and to treat one another with respect.

Mirror and Teacher

Children, like dogs, sense whether we are authentic.They don’t listen to words, they feel our attitude.When words and attitude don’t align, friction, mistrust, and chaos arise.When the two become one, connection happens.

I’ve seen how children at school respond to my dog, respectfully, attentively, lovingly.How they honor his boundaries, give him space, because they recognize that same need within themselves: for calm, safety, a place where one can simply be.

And I’ve seen children going through difficult times sit quietly beside him, one hand holding a pencil, the other resting on his fur.Simply being there, quiet, connected.Moments that are silent and healing, for everyone.

Let’s return to one another, without masks, without the constant urge to change ourselves or to change the other.