20/02/2026
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1ajyrNvpyK/?mibextid=wwXIfr
I Don’t Think You Meant to Get It Wrong…
(A Border Collie’s Letter to the Humans Who Love Him)
Hello.
I know you love me.
You wouldn’t have chosen me otherwise.
You tell people all the time how clever I am.
You show photographs of me sleeping upside down on the sofa like a furry accident.
You laugh when I tilt my head at you.
And honestly?
I love you too.
But I think we might need to talk about something.
Because lately…
Neither of us looks very happy.
You Thought You Were Getting a Dog
You researched.
Well… a little bit.
You read that Border Collies are intelligent.
Loyal.
Easy to train.
Good companions.
Nobody really explained that intelligence without purpose feels a lot like pressure.
Imagine being brilliant at something but never being told what that something is.
That’s me.
My Day While You’re Away
You leave for work.
Nine until five.
You say goodbye.
I watch you go.
At first, I sleep.
Then I wake up.
And my brain switches on.
I listen to everything.
The post arriving.
Children walking past.
Cars slowing outside.
Dogs barking three gardens away.
My world becomes noise and movement and questions I cannot answer.
Was that a threat?
Should I respond?
Is someone coming?
Should I control it?
I don’t know.
So I try everything.
You come home and say:
“He’s been at the window again.”
From my side?
I was trying to help.
The Things That Frustrate You
You don’t like that I chase bikes.
Or react to cars.
Or bark in the back of the car when dogs walk past.
You worry when I snap sometimes.
You wonder where the sweet puppy went.
I didn’t disappear.
I just grew into the dog I was always going to be.
Fast brain.
Fast reactions.
Big feelings.
No outlet.
The Weekend Fix
Saturday arrives.
You feel guilty.
So we walk for miles.
You throw a ball again and again because someone told you it would “wear me out”.
I run because running feels good.
But here’s the secret.
It doesn’t empty my head.
It winds it tighter.
You see a tired dog.
Inside, I feel like a kettle that never quite boils but never switches off either.
Monday comes.
Nothing changed.
The Part You Didn’t Notice
I don’t struggle because you don’t love me.
I struggle because you love me in a human way.
More walks.
More cuddles.
More freedom.
But what I need sometimes is guidance.
Clarity.
Boundaries.
A job.
Because uncertainty feels loud inside my head.
I’m Not Trying to Be Difficult
When I bark in the car, I’m overwhelmed.
When I chase movement, instinct takes over before thinking arrives.
When I struggle to settle, it’s because nobody taught me how.
Dogs don’t arrive calm.
We learn calmness.
Right now, I only know how to switch on.
What Helps Me Most
Not exhaustion.
Not endless miles.
Not another toy.
Give me small pieces of work.
Searching for food.
Learning to wait.
Using my nose.
Short moments of focus with you.
Teach me where to rest.
Show me when the world isn’t my responsibility.
Routine tells my brain it can relax.
Leadership tells me someone else is thinking for me.
That feels safe.
To the Humans Reading This
If your clever dog feels harder every week…
If reactions are growing.
If settling is difficult.
If the car has become stressful.
If frustration is creeping in.
Pause.
Look at lifestyle before behaviour.
Ask whether the dog in front of you matches the life around it.
Because most dogs aren’t choosing chaos.
They’re adapting to confusion.
To Trainers and Handlers
Sometimes owners don’t need judgement.
They need translation.
They love their dogs.
They just didn’t realise love alone isn’t always guidance.
Teach structure.
Teach fulfilment.
Teach calm.
The change can be extraordinary.
From My Bed Tonight
You didn’t ruin me.
You just didn’t know.
And that’s alright.
Because if you give me purpose…
Teach me how to switch off…
Help me understand the world…
I will meet you halfway.
I will walk beside you calmly.
Ignore the cyclist.
Sleep peacefully.
And become the dog you always believed I was when you first picked me up.
Also…
We really must discuss scooters.
I remain deeply concerned.
