20/09/2025
The term reactive is banded about way too much. Over the past 3 months alone I’ve had 5 dogs come to me that have been labelled by another trainer, reactive. When meeting them I didn’t see reactive, I saw misunderstood breed specifics.
Chance was labelled as male dominate aggressive by a behaviourist that I ‘trusted’. Told to get rid of him at 10months as he was too hard of a dog and could never be trusted. That stuck with me. Obvs I never got rid and practiced some shxt training. It’s still in the back of my mind. But he is sweet, hard working, clever, single minded and an amazing teacher.
This post from an amazing trainer certainly resonates with me. As I was certainly out of my depth when I got chance. Even though I’d had two working dogs before hand. https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1aQW3pstR3/?mibextid=wwXIfr
We throw the word “reactivity” around way too easily.
Bark at a dog? Reactivity.
Lunge at a jogger? Reactivity.
Spin on the lead? Reactivity.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth — most of the time, what we’re calling “reactivity” is just… a dog being a dog.
Take Aslan, the Australian Shepherd currently staying with me. On paper, he’s a conformation-bred Aussie — a show dog, bred for looks. But Aslan is a walking contradiction. He’s aloof with strangers, fiercely loyal to his people, has chase drive for days, is highly food motivated, and shows a level of protectiveness that is classic Aussie. He’s not just a pretty face — he’s got the heart and soul of a working dog.
And here’s where it gets interesting: the very traits that make him who he is are also what people would label “reactivity.” He’s hyper-aware of his personal space, and if someone barges in uninvited, he lets them know. He’s alert, he’s responsive, and he takes his role seriously. To the untrained eye, he might look like a “problem dog.” To me? He’s exactly what he was bred to be.
It’s also worth saying that Aslan’s owners have gone above and beyond to understand this dog. They’ve worked tirelessly to meet his needs, to provide training, outlets, and structure. They’ve even gone to great lengths to investigate underlying health issues — things that could have been adding fuel to the fire of his reactivity. This isn’t a case of a neglected or misunderstood dog. This is a dog whose humans are doing the work — and he’s still a dog with big feelings, big instincts, and big needs.
The reality is, we’ve deliberately selected dogs over generations to show us very different traits. Anyone who has owned both a working-bred dog and a conformation- or pet-bred dog will tell you they think, behave, and operate differently. And sometimes, the lines blur — you get a show-bred dog who carries all the intensity and drive of a working-bred one, or a working-bred dog who has a softer, more easygoing temperament you might expect in a show line. These “outliers” can be challenging for owners because they don’t fit the expectations that usually come with their type — but that’s exactly why understanding the individual dog in front of you matters more than anything.
We have to stop acting like barking, lunging, and growling are moral failings or behavioural disorders. Generations of breeding have shaped dogs into what they are today. And we — humans — did that. We decided what traits mattered: appearance for the show ring, drive for the field, guarding instinct for our property or our homes. Then we get mad when those traits show up in a way that’s inconvenient for us.
A high-drive, working-bred dog stuck in a city flat, under-exercised and under-stimulated, is going to “react.” A show-bred dog pushed into endless social situations they find overwhelming is going to “react.” This isn’t broken behaviour — it’s predictable behaviour.
Instead of slapping the label “reactive” on every dog that expresses a big emotion, we need to ask ourselves:
🔍 What did we breed this dog for?
🔍 Are we giving them a job or outlet for their drives?
🔍 How are we contributing to this situation?
Aslan isn’t a teddy bear. He’s a dog with purpose, and when you meet him where he’s at, he shines. The problem isn’t him — it’s the expectation that he should ignore his genetics, suppress his instincts, and behave like a robot.
“Reactivity” isn’t a disease to cure. It’s feedback. It’s communication. It’s information about the dog in front of you. And it’s time we stopped blaming dogs for doing exactly what we bred them to do.
