How to Socialize an Adult Dog: Transform Fear into Friendship with Positive Reinforcement

I. INTRODUCTION | How to Socialize an Adult Dog

Let me start with a confession: When I adopted my 4-year-old rescue dog, Luna, I thought her days of learning new tricks—or making friends—were long gone. She’d cower at the sight of strangers, bark at skateboards like they were invading aliens, and once hide under the bed for an hour after meeting my neighbour’s overly enthusiastic golden retriever. I wondered, “Is it too late to teach this sweet, anxious soul how to trust the world?”

Turns out, it wasn’t. Fast-forward two years, and Luna now trots into our local café (tail wagging because the staff keeps bacon bits behind the counter) and even has a “bestie” named Bruno, a goofy boxer who lives down the street. Socializing an adult dog isn’t just possible—it’s deeply rewarding. But here’s the thing: It’s not about forcing them into chaotic dog parks or overwhelming them with new faces. It’s about patience, understanding their unique story, and celebrating tiny victories (like the first time they sniff a stranger without panicking).

In this article, I’ll share the lessons I learned—sometimes the hard way—about helping adult dogs navigate a world that once scared them. Whether your dog is a shy introvert, a reactive bark machine, or just a little rusty on social graces, we’ll tackle practical strategies, heartwarming breakthroughs, and why a pocketful of chicken might be your secret weapon. Let’s get started.

II. Understanding Your Dog’s Current Behavior

Let me tell you about the day I realized Luna wasn’t just “quirky”—she was terrified of the world. We’d just moved to a new apartment, and during our first walk, a recycling truck rumbled by. Luna froze, her tail clamped between her legs and refused to move for 10 minutes. That moment taught me a critical lesson: You can’t help your dog until you truly understand them.

Start by Playing Detective

Every dog has a backstory, even if you don’t know it. Luna’s fear of loud noises? I later learned she’d been found wandering near a construction site. You must become a Sherlock Holmes of their habits to socialize with an adult dog. Here’s how:

• Assess Their Temperament
• Is your dog a wallflower, a nervous wreck, or a bull in a china shop? Luna was a mix of all three, depending on the day.
• Fearful dogs might cower, tremble, or avoid eye contact.
• Overly excited dogs jump, pull on the leash, or bark nonstop (think: the Labrador who acts like every human is their long-lost soulmate).
• Aggressive/reactive dogs growl, lunge, or snap when triggered.

Relatable scenario: Imagine your dog spots another pup across the street. If they stiffen, stare intensely, or start pulling, that’s a red flag. A well-socialized dog might glance, then move on.

Why This Matters

Understanding your dog’s behaviour isn’t about labelling them “broken.” It’s about empathy. Luna wasn’t “bad”—she’d just never learned that the world wasn’t out to get her. Once I pinpointed her triggers, we could tackle them one skateboard at a time.

Insight I wish I’d known sooner: Progress isn’t linear. Some days, Luna would bravely sniff a stranger’s hand; other days, she’d backslide. That’s normal. Socialization isn’t a checkbox—it’s a dance.

III. Preparing for Socialization: Setting the Stage for Success

Picture this: I once tried to take Luna to a bustling farmer’s market before we’d prepped properly. Spoiler: It was a disaster. She zigzagged between my legs, knocked over a basket of organic kale, and earned me the most judgmental side-eye from a woman in a “Dog Mom” sweater. Lesson learned: Preparation isn’t just about your dog—it’s about you staying calm, too.

Here’s how to set yourself (and your pup) up for success:

1. Set Realistic Expectations

Let’s get real: Your dog isn’t going to transform into a social butterfly overnight. Luna’s first “win” was sitting quietly when a jogger passed us—no barking or hiding. I celebrated like she’d won an Olympic medal.

• Progress is messy: Some days, Luna aced new interactions; other days, she’d regress. That’s normal. Think of it like learning a language—you’ll have days where you accidentally order “fried squid” instead of “coffee.”
• Small goals matter: Start with “no reaction” to a trigger from 20 feet away. Then 15 feet. Then 10.
• Your energy matters: Dogs mirror our emotions. If you’re tense, they’ll sense it. (I learned to channel my inner yoga instructor: Breathe. Smile. Pretend the skateboard isn’t coming.)

2. Gather Your Tools (Think: Doggy Survival Kit)

You wouldn’t hike a mountain without supplies. Socialization is no different. Here’s what saved us:

• High-value treats: Luna would sell my soul for boiled chicken. Find your dog’s “currency” and use it liberally. Pro tip: Freeze-dried liver is less messy than cheese.
• Leash and harness: A front-clip harness gave me better control without choking Luna. Avoid retractable leashes—they’re chaos in plastic form.
• Muzzle (if needed): Don’t fear the muzzle! Luna wore one briefly after she snapped at an overly friendly Aussie shepherd. It kept everyone safe and reduced my anxiety, which helped her relax.
• Comfort items: A familiar toy or blanket can be a security blanket. Luna carried a stuffed squirrel like a toddler with a teddy bear.

3. Create a Safe Environment

Start small. Very small.

• Home base: Begin in your living room or backyard. Luna’s first “socialization session” was when I invited a friend over to sit quietly on the couch while tossing treats. No pressure to interact—just coexistence.
• Quiet public spaces: Empty parking lots, quiet streets at dawn, or the far corner of a pet store. Avoid sensory overload. (Our first “big” outing was a 6 a.m. trip to a deserted park.)
• Escape routes: Always have an exit plan. If your dog panics, retreat calmly. Luna and I perfected the “casual walk-away” from triggers.

4. Health Check: Rule Out the Invisible Stuff

Before blaming behaviour on “bad manners,” rule out pain or illness.

• Vet visit: Luna’s sudden fear of stairs turned out to be arthritis. A pain management plan changed everything.
• Watch for subtle signs: Licking paws, avoiding eye contact, or changes in appetite can signal discomfort.

IV. Socialization Techniques: Turning Chaos into Confidence

Let’s discuss when I tried introducing Luna to my cousin’s toddler. Within seconds, the kid squealed. Luna bolted under the couch, and I Googled, “Can dogs develop trust issues in 10 seconds flat?” Spoiler: They can. But here’s the good news—socializing an adult dog isn’t about throwing them into the deep end. It’s about building a ladder, one rung at a time.

Here’s how we did it (without any more toddler-related incidents):

1. Controlled Exposure: The “Less Is More” Rule

Think of your dog’s stress threshold like a cup. Too many triggers too fast, and it overflows. Start with tiny sips.

• People: Begin with one calm, dog-savvy human. For Luna, that was my friend Sam, who could sit still for hours and whisper sweet nothings in a voice softer than an ASMR video.
• Step 1: Sam ignored Luna completely (no eye contact, no talking).
• Step 2: Sam tossed chicken bits on the floor near herself.
• Step 3: Luna crept close enough to sniff Sam’s shoe after three sessions. Cue confetti (and chicken showers).

• Dogs: Avoid face-to-face meetups at first. Instead, try parallel walks with a friend’s calm dog. Luna and Bruno (her future BFF) walked 20 feet apart for weeks before they ever sniffed each other.
• Environments: Start with “boring” places. Our first “field trip” was to an empty school parking lot on a Sunday. We sat in the car, windows cracked, watching squirrels. Thrilling? No. Effective? Yes.

2. Positive Reinforcement: Bribes Work (And That’s Okay)

Forget “sit” and “stay.” The only command you need early on is, “Look at that!”

• How it works: When your dog notices a trigger (e.g., a skateboard), say, “Look at that!” and immediately reward them before they react. This teaches them: “Scary thing = chicken rain!”
• Luna went from lunging at skateboards to glancing at them and then staring at me expectantly. Progress!
• Timing is everything: Treat before they bark, hide, or panic. If you’re too late, you’re rewarding the fear. (I learned this hard when I accidentally reinforced her recycling truck meltdown with a handful of bacon.)

3. Handling Exercises: “Touchy-Feely” Trust Builders

Many adult dogs hate being touched—especially if they’ve had rough handling.

• The 5-second rule: Gently touch your dog’s paw, ear, or tail for 5 seconds, then reward. Repeat daily.
• Luna used to yank her paw away if I touched it. After weeks of practice, she’ll now “high-five” for a meatball.
• Pro tip: Pair handling with something they love. I brushed Luna while she licked peanut butter off a spoon. Multitasking at its finest.

4. The “Oops” Moment: When to Hit Pause

Socialization isn’t failure-proof. Once, I let a stranger pet Luna without asking her permission. She ducked, the guy looked hurt, and I felt like the worst dog parent alive.

• Recovery plan: If your dog gets overwhelmed:
  1. Remove them from the situation calmly.
  2. Let them decompress (car rides or a quiet room work wonders).
  3. Revisit an easier step next time.

Why This Works

Socialization isn’t about forcing your dog to love everyone and everything. It’s about giving them choices and control. Luna doesn’t have to play with every dog she meets—she needs to know the world isn’t out to get her.

Relatable win: The first time Luna approached a stranger voluntarily (a patient barista with a cheese pocket), I cried into my cappuccino. It’s the little things.

V. Socializing with Humans: From “Stranger Danger” to Tail Wags

Let’s talk about my mom. She’s the kind of person who greets dogs like they’re long-lost relatives—arms wide, voice squealing, “OHMYGOODNESS WHO’S A FLUFFY ANGEL?!” The first time she met Luna, my dog backpedalled so fast she tripped over the rug. It wasn’t my mom’s fault (okay, maybe a little), but it taught me a golden rule: Humans need training, too.

Here’s how to help your dog navigate the wonderfully weird world of people:

1. Start with Familiar Faces (Who Can Follow Directions)

Not all humans are created equal. Begin with people your dog already trusts—or at least tolerates.

• The “Grandma Rule”: Ask them to act like your dog’s favourite elderly relative: calm, quiet, and generous with snacks.
• Our first success: My partner sat on the floor reading a book, ignoring Luna while casually dropping cheese cubes. Within 20 minutes, she was leaning on his leg.
• No touch, talk, or eye contact: This mantra works wonders. Let your dog approach them, not the other way around.

2. Introduce Diversity (Because the World Is Full of Oddballs)

Your dog needs to meet more than just your yoga buddy and the UPS driver. Think:

• Different genders/ages: Luna was initially terrified of men (thanks to unknown past trauma). We recruited my brother, who has a beard deeper than a Tolkien novel, to toss her treats from across the room.
• Hats, sunglasses, uniforms: My neighbour’s kid once spooked Luna by running over in a dinosaur costume. We worked up to it by showing her the costume on the ground, then on a hanger, then on a human.
• Kids: Teach children the “three-second hand sniff” rule. My niece learned to crouch sideways, offer a fist, and whisper, “I come in peace.”

3. Teach Polite Greetings (No Jumping, Please)

Luna’s idea of saying hello was to launch herself at faces like a furry missile. Here’s how we fixed it:

• The “Four on the Floor” game: Reward your dog only when all paws are grounded.
• Step 1: Practice at home with zero distractions.
• Step 2: Add mild triggers (e.g., someone ringing the doorbell).
• Step 3: Graduate to real-life scenarios.
• The “Oops” reset: If your dog jumps, turn your back and freeze. No attention until they’re calm. (This works on overeager humans too.)

Why This Works

Socializing Socializing with humans isn’t about forcing your dog to love everyone. It’s about teaching them that people are predictable and safe. Luna will never be a party animal, but now she’ll sidle up to my mom for a gentle ear scratch—as long as there’s chicken involved.

Heartwarming moment: The first time Luna approached a stranger on her own was a homeless man in the park who spoke to her in a gravelly whisper. She sat beside him, and he fed her bits of his sandwich. I let it happen (don’t tell my vet).

VI. Socializing with Other Dogs: From Frenemies to Playmates

Let me paint you a picture: Luna’s first “playdate” with another dog ended with her hiding under my car. At the same time, a hyperactive border collie circled it like a shark. I stood there, leash in hand, thinking, “Maybe she’s just… a cat person?” She wasn’t antisocial—she just needed the right teacher. Enter Bruno, a boxer with the patience of a saint and the energy of a toddler on a sugar crash.

Here’s how we went from canine chaos to (mostly) polite play:

1. Ditch the Dog Park (At First)

Dog parks are like nightclubs: loud, overwhelming, and full of strangers with questionable social skills. Start smaller.

• Neutral territory is key: Dogs are territorial. Introduce them in a place neither claims as “theirs”—a quiet street, empty tennis court, or even a friend’s backyard.
• Parallel walks: Walk your dog and the new dog 10–20 feet apart, gradually closing the gap if both are calm. Bruno’s owner and I did this for weeks. When the dogs sniffed each other, they said, “Oh, you again. Cool.”

2. Read the Room (And the Body Language)

Dogs speak with their bodies, not words. Learn their vocabulary:

• Green flags:
• Loose, wiggly posture.
• Play bows (front end down, butt up).
• Sniffing the ground to self-soothe (“I’m chill, no threat here!”).
• Red flags:
• Stiff stance raised hackles or fixed staring.
• Lip-licking, yawning, or turning away (stress signals!).
• “Whale eye” (showing the whites of their eyes).

Luna’s tell: It was time to bail if her tail went from a gentle way to a rigid metronome.

3. Let Them Set the Pace (No Forced Friendships)

Not every dog needs a BFF. Some need to coexist without drama.

• Short and sweet: First interactions should last 5–10 minutes max. Luna and Bruno’s initial “meet and sniff” ended with both dogs ignoring each other. Success!
• Off-leash vs. on-leash: Leashes can create tension (have you ever tried hugging someone while tied to a pole?). Let dogs greet off-leash in a secure area.
• Exception: If your dog has a history of reactivity, keep the leash loose but available.

The Breakthrough Moment

After months of parallel walks, treat bribes, and one memorable playdate where Luna initiated a game of chase, I realized that she didn’t need to be the life of the party. She just needed to know other dogs weren’t a threat. Now, she has a small circle of “friends” she tolerates and one (Bruno) she adores.

Funny aside: Luna’s arch-nemesis was Pierre, a grumpy French bulldog who side-eyes her like she’s a misbehaving intern. They’ve reached a détente: They ignore each other but with dignity.

VII. Addressing Common Challenges: When Progress Feels Like a Rollercoaster

Let’s talk about when Luna decided the mailman was Public Enemy No. 1. For weeks, we’d made steady progress—until one rainy Tuesday, she spotted him in his neon poncho and lost her mind. Barking, lunging, and nearly dragging me into a puddle. I stood there, soaked and defeated, thinking, “Did all that work just… disappear?”

Spoiler: It didn’t. But setbacks? They’re part of the journey. Here’s how to navigate the bumps without losing your cool (or grip on the leash).

1. Fear and Anxiety: When Your Dog’s Cup Overflows

Fearful dogs aren’t being “dramatic”—they’re drowning in stress. Luna’s mailman meltdown taught me to spot when her “stress cup” was full.

• Signs your dog is overwhelmed:
• Pacing, panting, or shaking (even if it’s not hot).
• “Shutdown” mode: Refusing treats, freezing, or hiding.
• Hypervigilance: Constantly scanning for threats.

2. Aggression/Reactivity: Redirecting the Volcano

Aggression is often fear in disguise. Luna once snarled at an off-leash golden retriever who bounded into her space. I felt judged, angry, and guilty—until a trainer reminded me: “She’s not giving you a hard time; she’s having a hard time.”

• Survival strategies:
• The “Find It!” game: Toss treats on the ground to redirect focus. Works wonders mid-meltdown.
• Create distance: Cross the street, step behind a car, or use visual barriers (like a pop-up umbrella).
• Use management tools: A front-clip harness or head halter gives you better control.
• What not to do:
• Yank the leash or yell. It adds tension. (I learned this after yelling “NO!” and accidentally startling Luna into more barking.)
• Force interactions. “Flooding” them with triggers makes things worse.

3. Setbacks: When It Feels Like Starting Over

Setbacks are normal. She regressed after Luna’s mailman incident—suddenly nervous around strangers again. Here’s how we bounced back:

• The 24-hour rule: Let yourself (and your dog) rest. No training, no pressure. We spent a day watching Dog TV and eating popcorn.
• Backtrack to basics: Revisit earlier successes to rebuild confidence. We re-did “Look at That!” games with skateboards from 50 feet away.
• Adjust your goals: Maybe your dog can’t handle cafes yet, but they can sit on a quiet bench. Celebrate that.

Relatable moment: A month after the mailman fiasco, Luna ignored him completely. Turns out, he’d started carrying bacon in his pocket for her. Teamwork makes the dream work.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Socializing an adult dog isn’t about perfection—it’s about resilience. Luna still has days where she side-eyes the vacuum or growls at a suspicious leaf. But now I know: Progress isn’t a straight line. It’s a spiral. You might reevaluate, but you’re always moving forward.

Funny win: Luna recently barked at a dog statue outside a café. We both stared at it, then she huffed and walked away. I’ll take it.

VIII. When to Seek Professional Help: Why Asking for Backup Doesn’t Mean You Failed

Let me tell you about the day I almost quit. Luna had developed a Pavlovian hatred for bicycles. Not just barking—full-on, drag-me-across-the-sidewalk, “I will eat your spokes!” chaos. After weeks of failed counter-conditioning, I sat on the curb, covered in mud, and cried into her leash. That’s when I called in the cavalry: a certified dog trainer named Jess, who took one look at us and said, “Oh honey, we’re gonna fix this.”

Here’s the truth: Asking for help isn’t admitting defeat—giving your dog (and yourself) the best shot at success.

1. Signs You Need a Pro

Not every challenge requires a trainer, but some battles are too big to DIY. Red flags include:

• Extreme aggression: Snapping, biting, or lunging that puts people/pets at risk.
• Unmanageable fear: Hiding for hours, refusing to eat, or panicking in multiple environments.
• Zero progress: If months of work haven’t moved the needle (like Luna vs. bicycles).
• Safety concerns: You’re scared to walk your dog, or they’re a danger to themselves.

My wake-up call: When Luna’s reactivity escalated to the point where I dreaded walks, I knew we needed backup.

2. Finding the Right Fit (Not All Trainers Are Created Equal)

The dog training world is a Wild West of advice. Here’s how to avoid the snake oil:

• Credentials matter: Look for certifications like CCPDT, KPA, or IAABC. Jess had a CCPDT badge and a no-nonsense love for science-based methods.
• Avoid “quick fix” promises: Anyone who guarantees results in 24 hours or uses terms like “alpha” or “dominance” is a red flag.
• Interview them: Ask, “What would you do if my dog growled at a stranger?” A good trainer will focus on root causes, not punishment.

Pro tip: Steer clear of trainers who use shock collars, prong chains, or intimidation. Luna’s trainer used treats, patience, and a fanny pack of hot dogs.

3. What to Expect in Sessions

Jess’s first visit was part therapy session, part doggy boot camp:

• Assessment: She observed Luna’s triggers, my handling skills, and our dynamic. (It turns out my “calm voice” sounded like a panicked muppet.)
• Custom plan: We focused on “pattern games” to build Luna’s confidence and my timing with treats.
• Homework: Yes, you get homework. Ours included 10-minute daily drills and a ban on saying “It’s okay!” in a screechy tone.

Funny moment: Jess made me practice walking Luna while humming Taylor Swift songs to stay relaxed. Luna now knows every word to Shake It Off.

The Takeaway

Seeking help isn’t a last resort—it’s a smart strategy. Luna and I still have work to do, but now we have tools (and a trainer on speed dial). Remember: You’re not alone. Even the most “perfect” dog owners have moments of Googling “Why does my dog hate ceiling fans?” at 2 a.m.

IX. Maintaining Social Skills Long-Term: Keeping Confidence Sharp (and Boredom at Bay)

Let’s talk about the summer I got complacent. Luna had mastered polite greetings, ignored bicycles, and even tolerated Pierre’s judgy Frenchie side-eye. So I did what any proud dog parent would: I took a victory lap. We skipped training sessions, avoided new environments, and stuck to our old walking route. Big mistake. By fall, Luna was side-eyeing strangers again and barking at skateboards as if they’d personally offended her ancestors.

It turns socialization into Socialization isn’t a “set it and forget it” skill—it’s a muscle that needs regular exercise. Here’s how to keep your dog’s social mojo strong, even when life gets busy.

1. Consistency: The “Little and Often” Rule

Think of socialization like flossing: Skip it too long, and things get messy.

• Daily “micro-practices”:
• Walk different routes to expose your dog to novel sights/sounds. Luna’s favourite? The street with the inflatable Halloween skeleton that waves its arms.
• Drop into pet-friendly stores for 5-minute visits. We’d pop into the hardware store, grab a treat from the cashier, and leave before Luna noticed the ceiling fans.
• Practice commands in distracting settings. “Sit” at a busy intersection? Gold star.
• Weekly “field trips”: Rotate between parks, quiet neighbourhoods, and outdoor cafes. Pro tip: Off-peak hours are your friend. Luna’s Sunday morning ritual? “Brunch” at a patio table where she people-watches for crumbs.

Relatable fail: I once skipped walks for a week during a work deadline. By day 7, Luna barked at her reflection in the oven. Lesson learned.

2. Enrichment: Turn Boredom into Brainpower

A bored dog is a nervous dog. Keep their mind (and manners) engaged:

• Puzzle toys: Stuff a Kong with peanut butter and freeze it. Luna’s “job” is to lick it calmly while I work.
• Novel experiences: Introduce “silly” challenges. Walk over a tarp, navigate around traffic cones, or meet a goat (yes, really—Luna’s farm friend, Gary, taught her that not all creatures are out to get her).
• Training games: Reinforce polite behaviour with random rewards. Luna gets a jackpot of chicken whenever she ignores a skateboard without prompting.

Funny hack: I taught Luna to “say please” by sitting before receiving anything—meals, treats, even belly rubs. Now she plops her butt down like a furry negotiator.

3. Monitor and Adapt: Your Dog’s Needs Will Change

Luna’s confidence isn’t static. Stress, age, or routine shifts can shake her mojo.

• Watch for subtle shifts:
• Is she sniffing less on walks? (Sniffing = mental stimulation.)
• Does she startle more easily?
• Is she avoiding previously comfortable places?
• Adjust your approach:
• After a cross-country move, Luna regressed hard. We reverted to backyard training and quiet walks until she settled.
• As she’s aged, arthritis made her less tolerant of rowdy playdates. Now, her “social time” is spent sniffing Bruno’s yard while he naps nearby.

Why This Works

Long-term socialization isn’t about rigid routines—it’s about weaving confidence-building into everyday life. Luna will never be a socialite, but she’s learned to navigate the world with curiosity instead of fear. And honestly? That’s enough.

X. Conclusion: Celebrating the Journey (Imperfections and All)

Let’s end this where it began: with Luna under my bed, trembling at the mere idea of the outside world. Fast-forward to today, and that same dog is snoozing beside me as I type this, one paw twitching as she dreams of chasing squirrels (or maybe mail carriers). She’s not “perfect”—she still hates skateboards and will forever side-eye French bulldogs—but she’s learned to trust a little more, fear a little less, and live much fuller.

If you take nothing else from this article, remember this: Socializing an adult dog isn’t about fixing them. It’s about giving them the tools to navigate a noisy, unpredictable world with more courage.

The Big Takeaways

1. Progress > Perfection: Luna’s biggest victory wasn’t mastering a dog park but learning to recover faster after a scare. Celebrate the try, not just the triumph.
2. Your Dog’s Story Is Unique: What worked for Luna might flop for your dog, and that’s okay. Your pup may never adore strangers, but they can learn to tolerate them without panic.
3. It’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint: Socialization isn’t a checklist. It’s a lifelong practice of curiosity, patience, and the occasional bacon bribe.

A Note to the Weary Dog Parent

I see you—the one covered in treat crumbs, Googling “why does my dog hate ceiling fans?” at 3 a.m. I’ve been you. There will be days when all your hard work has evaporated. Days when your dog barks at a statue, pees on a new friend’s shoe, or rediscovers their mortal enemy (the vacuum, the bike, the shadow that moves funny).

But here’s the secret: Those days are part of the story. They’re the messy, unglamorous chapters where resilience is built—for both of you.

The Most Important Lesson Luna Taught Me

It’s not about turning your dog into a social superstar. It’s about tiny moments of connection:

• The first time, they choose you over their fear.
• The day they surprise you by approaching a stranger—just because.
• The quiet pride of watching them snooze peacefully in a busy world that once terrified them.

Luna didn’t need to become the life of the party. She just needed to know the party wasn’t going to hurt her.

Your Turn

So grab that leash, stuff your pockets with chicken, and take a deep breath. Your dog’s breakthrough might be a week away—or a year. But every small step, every tail wag in the face of a former fear, is a victory.

And when doubt creeps in? Remember: You’re not just socializing or socializing your dog. You’re rebuilding their faith in the world. That’s no small thing.

Here’s to the nervous rescues, the quirky seniors, and the “problem” dogs who just needed someone to listen. They’re not broken. They’re learning—and so are you.

Thank you for letting me share Luna’s journey (and a few of my meltdowns). Now go forth, treat pouch in hand, and show your dog how brave they can be.

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