This isn’t play anymore, it’s a full-on obsession

Some dogs give you a look that says everything. No need for words. Their favorite toy is sitting two feet away like a sacred object, and their entire being is locked onto it. It might look like love, but it’s more than that. Tighter. Sharper. Almost spiritual. A kind of devotion. Or maybe a perfectly legal, soft-core addiction.

A group of researchers decided to dig into this—not to judge, but to try and understand what’s really going on when a dog seems to live for just one thing. Their main question was simple but serious: can a dog actually get addicted to a toy?

A legit study about a topic that usually gets brushed off

It might sound silly at first, but it’s real science. The study, published in 2025 on Nature.com, looked at 105 dogs, all described by their humans as “super into toys.” Not just playful. Super into it. Dogs who orbit their favorite ball like it’s the center of their universe. The kind who don’t respond to their name when the toy’s in sight. Who ignore food, forget their dog friends, and sit in front of the toy bin like a heartbroken ex waiting at someone’s door.

First test: show them the toy, but don’t give it to them. Yes, it’s cruel. Yes, it’s science. The result? About a third of the dogs had a moment: intense staring, tuning everything out, whining, pacing. A few tried to break into the locked toy box. Two actually managed to break it open. So… yeah.

Then they asked the humans

The researchers also sent out a questionnaire to the owners, and that’s where things got interesting. Many of the behaviors they described sounded a lot like what we’d call addiction in humans. That habit of finding joy in just one thing, and nothing else.

When separated from the toy, these dogs enter a kind of limbo: buzzing with anticipation, overstimulated, visibly frustrated. They seem stuck on pause until the magic drawer opens. And once their “my precious” comes out? They turn into missiles. Laser-focused, nothing else exists. Not you, not other dogs, not trees, not cuddles—just the toy.

Is it addiction? Or just high enthusiasm?

Are we really talking about addiction?

The researchers prefer the term “addictive-like behaviour.” It’s more careful, more respectful. You’re not about to diagnose a border collie with a psychiatric condition just because he’s laser-focused on a tennis ball, but what they did observe was real:

• Craving – that intense need
• Salience – everything else fades into the background
• Loss of control
• Mood modification – depending on whether the toy is around

And if this all sounds kind of funny, know that for some dogs, it’s really not. They can injure themselves from the constant repetitive movements, struggle with frustration, and spin endlessly in the same loop, like a scratched record that never resets. And in dog years, that’s a long time to be stuck skipping.

High-drive dogs: brilliant, intense and mentally fried

So who’s most affected? The so-called “high drive” dogs. The working breeds, the elite athletes, the overachievers in fur coats: border collies, malinois, jack russells… The ones we praise for their intelligence, focus, and drive. But here’s the flip side: those same qualities, if not channeled properly, can spiral fast.

Put them in a typical home, with a normal family and a way too calm daily routine, and suddenly it’s too quiet, too still, too little stimulation. That brilliant mind turns inward. The intensity we admire? It starts eating them alive. And that’s when the toy becomes more than a toy. It becomes a ritual, a coping mechanism. The one thing that keeps them alive.

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Should you be worried?

No—if your dog just loves fetch. Yes—if fetch is the only thing they want to do.

As long as your dog can still find joy in a bunch of things, you’re good. If they can play in different ways, explore, sniff, wander, flirt with the breeze, mess around with other dogs, great. But if they’re always waiting for that one toy, at that one time, with that same trembling focus, then yeah, maybe it’s worth taking a closer look.

Like one of my clients’ border collie: the second they arrive at the park, he freezes in that classic collie stance—part yoga pose, part Olympic sprinter—waiting for the ball that’s still zipped inside her bag. He can hold that pose for the entire walk, and if she doesn’t give in, he’ll just trot over to strangers, drop a random branch at their feet, and beg them to throw it.

What this study really says

At the core, it’s about something pretty human: how the desire to make someone happy can get off-track.

The game that was supposed to bring you closer becomes a kind of escape. The human throws, the dog runs again, and again, and again, and we call it bonding. But sometimes, it’s just a spiral, and at that point, the toy is no longer a toy, it becomes a symptom.

And we cheer. We film. “Look at him go! He could do this for hours!” Yep. And that might actually be the problem. 

Source :

Mazzini, A., Senn, K., Monteleone, F. et al. Addictive-like behavioural traits in pet dogs with extreme motivation for toy play. Sci Rep 15, 32613 (2025). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-025-18636-0

Dog-Lead Walks: How a Simple Walk Can Help Build a Deeper Bond with Your Dog

You step outside and your dog immediately stops. Not for a quick sniff, but for a long, intentional pause in front of a tuft of grass. Then, just as suddenly, she changes direction, following invisible trails in the air that only she can perceive. You follow, not rushing, not questioning. This is the heart of a dog-led walk: a walk with no destination, no agenda, just presence.

In this reversed kind of walk, it’s your dog who takes you out. She chooses the path, the pace, the pauses. What might otherwise feel like a routine turns into a ritual — one with six legs and two hearts. Neither a training session nor just a way to burn energy, this moment becomes fertile ground for trust to grow, for the human-dog connection to deepen. Your dog gains confidence — in herself, and in you — and you, in turn, are offered a rare opportunity to let go.

What it changes for your dog

Most leash walks follow the same pattern: the human leads, the dog follows. She adjusts to your step, stops when you stop, keeps going when she’d rather pause. In short, she goes along with the route without really choosing any of it. Even if she enjoys the outing, her instincts are often held back. A dog-lead walk shifts the balance. It gives her a sense of agency again.

When your dog leads the way, she activates her full sensory intelligence: tracking scents, choosing where to go, deciding when to stop, marking her territory, daring to explore. It’s no longer just physical movement, it becomes a full, rich, mental adventure. That structured freedom feeds not only her senses, but also her emotional well-being and her autonomy.

A dog who is given this kind of freedom gains confidence, partly because she feels listened to and respected, and partly because she’s free to explore unfamiliar paths. That sense of trust helps her handle fears with more ease, become more curious, regulate herself more naturally, and feel grounded in her environment.

She’s no longer just an extra on the walk, she becomes the one writing the story, becoming an active participant in her own walk, therefore in her own life.

A powerful alternative where off-leash isn’t an option

In some parts of the world, this way of walking takes on even more meaning. In North America, for instance, where dogs often aren’t allowed off-leash, even in green spaces, where everything is fenced, regulated, and supervised, the leash can sometimes be their only space for expression.

In that kind of context, the dog-lead walk offers your dog the impression that she still has a say in where he’s going. Even when tethered, she still chooses. It’s not absolute freedom. It’s not better than a free run in nature. But it feels like freedom. And for an animal navigating a human-made world full of rules and restrictions, that little pocket of choice can change everything.

What it changes for you

This isn’t just transformative for your dog, it’s a shift for you, too. Accepting to follow your dog without directing means agreeing to slow down instead of rushing, to observe rather than control, to listen instead of speak, to let go rather than manage.

It invites a shift, not just in pace, but in state of mind. You stop walking to tick a box or to burn energy. You start walking to simply be together, at your dog’s pace. Within that shift, an unexpected stillness opens up.

Dog-led walks reconnect you to the present. You begin to notice things again — light through leaves, a shift in the wind, the quiet wonder of your dog just being a dog. And yes, there’s joy in not knowing where you’re going. Letting someone else, someone small, furry, and full of instinct, be your guide opens a different kind of freedom. Not the kind you take, but the kind you receive.

What it builds between you

The real magic happens in the space between you.

A different kind of bond begins to take shape — not a top-down relationship, but something horizontal, fluid, responsive.

Connection isn’t built on commands anymore, well executed or not, but on a shared rhythm you learn to find together. You start noticing who your dog really is — her pace, her preferences, her impulses — by reading her quiet signals: a long pause to make sure she’s fully decoded every molecule of scent on a single blade of grass, a sideways glance to check you haven’t disappeared into a hole ten steps back, a subtle tension in the leash that reshapes the journey in a whole new way. And your dog, in turn, learns that she’s allowed to be herself without being corrected every time she takes a detour.

This kind of relationship, built on mutual attention and shared observation, continues to ripple beyond the walk. Your dog becomes more attentive to you, simply because she feels you are more attentive to her. This reciprocal respect forms the basis of a deeper, more fluid connection. One that doesn’t rely on control, but on quiet listening.

How to get started with dog-lead walks

You don’t need to live in the countryside to try this kind of walk. Just a bit of calm and intention. Here are a few simple guidelines to begin:

• Choose a quiet place: a calm street, a quiet park, a forest trail. What matters is being away from traffic, noise, and heavy foot traffic.
• Use a long leash: from a 3-meter leash (about 10 feet — which, by the way, should be your everyday go-to) to a 10-meter long line (about 33 feet — which does take some practice to handle), to give your dog space without compromising safety.
• If possible, have a dedicated leash: a leash that looks or feels different from your regular one. This helps your dog recognize the shift. She’ll know: this is a different kind of walk, one where she gets to decide.
• Let her guide you: don’t pull or redirect unless there’s a real need. Just watch. Follow. Let her sniff, mark, explore, pause.

• Put in as much energy as you can: try to match your dog’s pace as often as possible, and if it pushes you a little, hey, it’s good for your cardio 😉. Dogs aren’t built to walk at our average human speed. While we cruise along at 4–5 km/h (2.5–3 mph), your dog’s natural pace is more like 8–9 km/h (5–5.5 mph). Imagine having to spend your whole life walking at the pace of your two-year-old child or your 95-year-old grandmother and you’ll get a sense of the quiet frustration your dog feels every day.

• Stay present: no phone, no distractions. Your body language, your pace, your attention — that’s how you speak on this walk.

A simple walk, a complete philosophy

Embracing dog-lead walks isn’t just about trying a new technique. It’s about shifting the way we see our dogs. It’s about choosing not to control everything, not to interpret everything, and opening up to the idea that the other — even a dog — might sometimes be the better guide.

It’s also a way to apply, in real life, the principles of canine ethology: recognizing that a dog’s behavioral needs go far beyond just getting walked and being told what to do. They include freedom of movement, of scent, of choice.

What you’ll get in return is a relationship that breathes easier. A dog who trusts more. A human who pays closer attention. And a connection that becomes a quiet alliance — respectful, mutual, and rooted in presence.

The leash, no longer a tool of tension, becomes something else entirely: a soft line of trust, gently linking two beings who no longer need to pull in opposite directions. 🐾🖤

I may be small, but “small dog” still means dog!

This is a heartfelt declaration on behalf of all the small dogs in the world who are secretly despairing.

Small, not insignificant

People often assume that small dogs need less mental and physical stimulation. That’s completely wrong. Chihuahuas, for example, are incredibly smart and endlessly curious. Just because a dog fits in a bag doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get to explore the world. Discovery and stimulation are not optional extras, they’re essential.

No matter the size, all dogs need:

• • Regular socialization (with other dogs, humans, and environments)
  • Mental stimulation (scent work, training, hide-and-seek, chew toys, food puzzles)
  • Physical exercise appropriate to their breed and energy level
  • Freedom of movement to sniff, roam, and be a dog

And no, a walk in the garden, a ride in a purse, or being carried in your arms does not replace a real walk.

Common mistakes with small dogs

Why constantly carrying your dog backfires

Picking up your dog every time there’s a noise, a passing dog, or a loud sidewalk is like pulling a child out of the playground at the first sign of a disagreement: they never get to learn. Dogs need to experience the world in order to understand it. If they’re always lifted away, they can’t process, adapt, or gain confidence. Instead, they stay fearful.

The result? Insecure attachment, separation anxiety, and reactivity. It’s not cute, it’s hard for the dog, and hard for you.
“But he’s scared of other dogs!”
Yes, because he’s never had a chance to meet them properly, on the ground, nose to nose. Dogs learn through experience, not by hovering above reality like fragile little statues.

The cost of overprotecting your small dog

Treating your small dog like a human baby creates confusion about roles. A dog needs a calm, predictable guide. Instead, he becomes dependent on an anxious human who overreacts to every perceived threat.

Typical behaviors include:

• • Following you everywhere, even to the bathroom
  • Panicking when you leave the room
  • Barking or growling at strangers or dogs
  • Snapping at people who approach you when he’s in your arms

This isn’t your dog being difficult. He’s overwhelmed. Often, it’s a side effect of love expressed in the wrong way.

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Moka: small in size, big in potential

One of my first tiny clients was Moka, a sweet little Maltese, nervous, tense, and unsure of everything. I walked her once or twice a day. Her owner just didn’t want her left alone too long, but for me, it became a mission. I walked her like I would a big dog, like a mini German Shepherd: exploring, meeting new dogs, trying new things, taking on small challenges. It wasn’t just exercise—it was socialization, confidence-building, and real-world learning. She played with giant dogs, hiked, met cows, sniffed every leaf and pole she could. By the end of the day, I had a nearly brave, joyful little dog on the leash.

But every morning, it was like starting from scratch. Why? Because when she was with her owner, Moka was always carried. At the first sign of another dog, her leash would tighten with anxiety, and she’d be scooped up like someone hitting the emergency eject button. No mental stimulation. No real training. No physical activity. No freedom. No adventure. She wasn’t pampered, she was smothered. And yet, with a little trust and freedom, she absolutely came to life. All she needed was one thing: for us to remember that she was a dog, not a doll or a baby.

Small dog breeds: calm-looking and high-energy

Yes, some breeds like Shih Tzus or Cavalier King Charles Spaniels have gentler temperaments and lower activity needs. But even they require stimulation, social interaction, and the freedom to move.

Just because a dog likes to lie beside you doesn’t mean they should live like a piece of furniture.

Other breeds — Pinschers, Pomeranians, Poodles, Chihuahuas, Yorkies, Dachshunds, and so on — are lively, intelligent, and curious. Their small size hides a lot of energy, and they need just as much mental and physical exercise as any other dog.

The real needs of small dogs (spoiler: same as every other dog)

Mental stimulation is a must

A tiny dog doesn’t have tiny brain activity. They need to think, solve problems, explore, and most importantly: sniff.

• • Scent games (snuffle mats, scent boxes, trails) help focus their energy and tap into their most powerful sense: smell.
  • Puzzle toys, treat dispensers, and hide-and-seek (with people or objects) boost focus, curiosity, and independence.
  • Chewing is often overlooked but essential. It calms, soothes, and occupies. From natural chews to filled toys, it’s an easy way to reduce stress, prevent boredom, and support emotional regulation.

A dog that thinks is a dog that’s calmer, more emotionally stable, and easier to live with, whether they weigh 5 pounds or 90.

Physical activity still matters

Small dogs need to move, and not just across the living room rug, from purse to pillow.

They need to walk, run, climb, and feel different textures under their paws.

• • A real walk isn’t a quick pee break. It’s a time for exploration, freedom, and sniffing the world.
  • Smelling things is crucial. Their nose is how they understand the world. Every pole and blade of grass holds stories.
  • Climbing over logs, hopping onto rocks, it’s all part of being a dog. Sure, you adapt the challenge to their body, but you still give them the experience.

A small dog that’s always carried is a small dog that’s frustrated — robbed of what it needs to feel alive.

Play is not optional

Play isn’t a bonus. It’s how dogs learn, bond, decompress, and thrive.

• • Training games like recall, hide-and-seek, or tricks build trust and focus.
  • Social play with friendly dogs helps them practice canine communication and release tension.
  • Even little dogs need fetch, tug, chase, and search games — just tailored to their size.

Socializing your small dog the right way

Socializing doesn’t mean dropping your dog into a crowd and it’s absolutely not clutching him like he’s about to be mugged every time another dog shows up.

Good socialization means:

• • Letting your dog choose: to sniff, to approach, or to watch from a distance
  • Offering calm, balanced dog interaction
  • Learning to read body language: yawns, turning away, freezes, wags, blinks, bow
  • Anticipating situations by understanding these signals, and guiding your dog through them without turning him into a helpless toddler

Picking up your dog every time another one walks by teaches him that the ground is unsafe. Over time, he can become an anxious, frustrated, and reactive dog. But on the ground, with support and space, he can learn to handle the world. He can build confidence. Curiosity. Peace.

Training: not just for the big guys

Small dogs are just as capable of learning as big ones. They can follow rules, routines, and expectations — if you take the time to teach them gently and consistently.

• • Build focus and strengthen your bond together
  • Work on separation calmly and gradually
  • Practice leash walking and basic commands
  • Play. Train. Explore. Scent games, puzzles, and fun tricks… it all counts.
  • Reinforce calm, curious behavior
  • Teach him to walk on a leash. Just because he’s easy to handle doesn’t mean you should skip this step or drag him along to make him follow you. A small dog also has a mind of his own, feelings, and preferences. He likes to make choices and deserves to be respected, just like the big ones.

Emotional security doesn’t come from being with you 24/7. It comes from having a safe, stable world where they can exist without panic. That, too, is love.

Testimony from Peanut, a clear-headed Chihuahua

“My name is Peanut. I’m a Chihuahua. And I’m tired of being treated like a houseplant. I have four legs, a nose like a truffle pig, and the heart of a lion. I want to go out and sniff the world like everyone else. I’m not fragile, I’m just small. There’s a difference. But it’s getting blurry, because I spend my life being carried, bundled up, pampered, and kept from doing dog things. Take me for real walks. I’ll love you even more for it.”

Small dog, big responsibility

Treating a small dog like it’s fragile means projecting human fears onto it. And though it comes from love, it often leads to the opposite of what we want: anxiety, frustration, and behavior problems.

But give that dog freedom, give it structure, give it adventure, space, and trust, and you’ll get back something incredible. A small dog, balanced and brave. And that’s true happiness. 🐾🖤

Video: Proof that bravery isn’t measured in inches. This is Obi-Wan, the French chihuahua who’s every bit a shepherd 🙂

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