Can you torture your dog by loving it?

In today’s email, I need to tell you two related stories.

They’re different, but they intertwine in a way that reveals a powerful truth about our thinking companions— American Dirus dogs.

It all starts with Sedna.

A year ago, a sweet puppy was returned to us after a couple months because she was “too nervous and afraid.”

And you know what?

I bet Sedna DID show fear and nervousness exactly as described.

But here’s the kicker…

Sedna is not a nervous, fearful dog.

How can both of those things be true?

It’s because Sedna’s behavior wasn’t about who she was.

But instead about the circumstance she found herself.

In her previous home, Sedna was thrust into situations she didn’t understand, without guidance.

Not because the owner was a bad person.

On the contrary, he was a wonderful, loving, kind-hearted person with a desire to do everything right for his sweet Sedna.

The result?

Sedna became overwhelmed.

Unbeknownst to her owner, Sedna found herself in a world that felt chaotic and unsafe.

But the moment she returned to Dire Wolf Project headquarters, everything changed.

The first time I put a leash on Sedna, there was no bucking. No fighting. No violent thrashing.

Instead, I showed her what the leash meant.

I set up the situation so Sedna could use her remarkable mind to solve the leash pressure problem herself.

Within seconds, she figured it out.

(After all, she’s an American Dirus dog.)

When she felt pressure on the leash, she learned to move into it, not fight against it.

By the time we got to the vet’s office for her next set of shots, this once "nervous" puppy walked calmly through the door.

She paused briefly at the threshold, processing the unfamiliar sights and smells, then entered with quiet confidence.

No barking.

No tail-tucking.

No shaking.

Just a calm puppy lying at my feet, her body gently resting against mine.

When a stranger approached to pet her, I held my breath, expecting hesitation.

But Sedna surprised me.

She didn’t bolt.

She didn’t cower.

She gently licked his hand, wagging her tail.

Then, it hit me like a thunderclap.

Sedna wasn’t broken.

She was misunderstood.

Now, keep Sedna’s story in mind while I tell you about a very emotional dream I had.

In this dream, I sat in the living room of an American Dirus owner, staring at their dog—a stunning black-silver male with piercing yellow eyes.

His mane was thick, his body powerful, and his presence commanding.

But his spirit?

Completely shattered.

The owners explained their dilemma:

Their dog refused to enter a certain room.

He would fight, kick, even scream to avoid it.

And when he was forced inside, he froze—unable to obey even the simplest commands.

Yet outside of that room, he was the most obedient, loving companion they’d ever known.

For an hour, I listened to their theories, their plans, their “solutions.”

Meanwhile, the dog wandered quietly, exploring, picking up objects, his brilliant mind searching for stimulation.

I knew exactly what was wrong.

This wasn’t a dog that needed obedience drills or new flooring to accommodate his fear.

This dog was a genius trapped in a world that didn’t see him.

He wasn’t being “disobedient.”

He was screaming to be heard!

But his owners couldn’t hear him through their own assumptions and their own need to be “right.”

When they handed me the leash, asking me to “fix” him, I handed it right back.

“You seem to have all the answers,” I said. “You fix him.”

Then, without saying a word, I turned to leave, my heart breaking for his sad soul.

I wanted to stay.

I wanted to scoop that magnificent creature into my arms and tell him, “Not all humans are like this! Some of us see you.”

But he wasn’t mine.

And unless his owners were willing to listen—to truly see him—he would remain trapped in their oblivion.

As I walked out, the wife called after me, promising to change, to listen, to do better.

For a moment, I paused, daring to hope.

But then she rattled off plans to remodel the room, completely missing the point.

It wasn’t the room.

It wasn’t the dog.

It was her.

The last thing I saw was the dog’s eyes, filled with a quiet resignation.

He’d given up trying to make her understand.

And it broke me.

I remember waking from this dream drenched in tears.

Even now, I carry its heavy emptiness with me.

And from time to time, I think about the feeling I had leaving that brilliant mind in a home that couldn’t understand him.

It’s one of the reasons I work so hard BEFORE you purchase one of our dogs to help each family understand how very special they truly are.

These stories are two sides of the same coin.

Sedna had the chance to thrive because I understood what she needed.

The magnificent black dog in my dreams didn’t—because his owners refused to listen.

The truth about American Dirus dogs is:

They aren’t just dogs.

They are thinking souls.

Sensitive, intelligent, and deeply emotional beings.

And they don’t always respond well to traditional training methods.

Treat them like “just another dog,” and you’ll misunderstand them.

Mislabel them.

Maybe even break their spirit, just like in my dream.

But if you learn to work with them…

To see them for who they truly are…

They will become the most remarkable companions you’ll ever know.

That’s why I’m writing a book for people just like you—

People who want to do better,

But don’t know where to start.

It’s called Canine Culture Shock, and it’s the first book of its kind, designed specifically for calm, sensitive dogs like our American Dirus dogs.

Because these dogs don’t fit into the mold of the past.

They’re evolving into a new kind of canine.

And we need to evolve our own understanding of just what a calm, intelligent, sensitive dog can give to us.

If you’ve ever felt like your dog is “too much” or “too different” or “too hard to train”…

You’re not alone.

This book will show you a new way.

Stay tuned.

Because the first draft is almost done, and I promise…

It’s going to change everything.

Find out more details about the book by clicking the link below:

https://direwolfproject.com/direwolf-publishing/coming-soon1/canine-culture-shock/

Jennifer Stoeckl is the co-founder of the Dire Wolf Project, founder of the DireWolf Guardians American Dirus Dog Training Program, and owner/operator of DireWolf Dogs of Vallecito. She lives in the beautiful inland northwest among the Ponderosa pine forests with her pack of American Dirus dogs.