“That dog is mean!”

I’ve heard those four words many times.

Usually, they’re spoken by a child who has just seen a dog barking from behind a fence. Sometimes, it’s because a dog growled when someone reached for his toy. Other times, it’s because a shy shelter dog backed away instead of greeting visitors.

Children aren’t trying to be unfair. They’re simply doing what all of us do when we don’t understand behavior. We make assumptions.

One of the first things I teach children in my humane education programs is that animals are always communicating with us. They may not use words, but every bark, growl, wagging tail, flattened ears, tucked tail, hiss, purr, or quick retreat has meaning. Animals are constantly telling us how they feel, what they need, or what they’re about to do.

The challenge isn’t that animals aren’t communicating.

It’s that most of us have never learned how to listen.

That’s why I encourage children to stop asking, “What’s wrong with that dog?” and begin asking, “What is that dog trying to tell me?”

A barking dog may not be aggressive. He may be excited to greet you, protecting his home, frustrated because he’s behind a fence, or frightened by something unfamiliar. A cat that walks away isn’t necessarily unfriendly. She may simply be asking for space. A rabbit that freezes isn’t being stubborn. Freezing is one way rabbits protect themselves when they feel uncertain or afraid.

When children begin to look for the reason behind a behavior rather than reacting to it, they become curious. And curiosity changes the conversation.

Instead of judging, children begin observing. They notice a tucked tail, ears pinned back, or a stiff body posture. They start looking for clues before drawing conclusions.

I’ve watched this happen hundreds of times over the years.

A child who moments earlier insisted a dog was “mean” suddenly says, “Maybe he’s scared.”

That’s not just a lesson about dogs.

It’s a lesson about understanding.

I think we sometimes make compassion more complicated than it needs to be. We tell children to “be kind” or “show empathy,” but those are abstract ideas. Understanding is something children can practice.

They can learn why a cat flicks her tail. Why a dog offers a play bow. Why a frightened animal chooses to walk away.

Every lesson helps children replace assumptions with understanding.

What’s fascinating is that this lesson doesn’t stop with animals.

Children who learn to pause and ask, “What is this animal trying to communicate?” begin developing a habit of looking beyond behavior. They become more likely to wonder what another person might be feeling instead of immediately judging their actions.

Animals become the teachers, not because they’re teaching compassion directly. But because they give children an opportunity to practice one of compassion’s most important building blocks: understanding.

To me, that’s the true power of humane education. We’re not simply teaching children about dogs, cats, rabbits, or birds. We’re teaching them to slow down, observe, ask questions, and understand another living being before making assumptions.

When understanding comes first…compassion follows.

One of the most common mistakes I see children make around animals isn’t because they’re being unkind.

It’s because they’re excited.

A child spots a friendly-looking dog across the room and immediately reaches out to pet him. Another sees a cat sitting quietly on the couch and scoops her up without a second thought. Their intentions are good. They simply want to say hello.

But from the animal’s perspective, that enthusiastic greeting may feel very different.

Imagine meeting a stranger who rushes toward you, reaches for your face, and immediately wraps you in a hug. Most of us would instinctively step back. We might even feel startled or uncomfortable.

Animals can feel the same way.

One of the very first lessons I teach during my humane education programs is simple:

Let the dog or cat come to you.

It’s a lesson that takes only a few seconds to explain, yet it has the potential to prevent bites and scratches while helping children build respectful relationships with animals that can last a lifetime.

Dogs and cats, like people, appreciate having a choice. When we allow them to approach us at their own pace, they have an opportunity to gather information. They can sniff, observe, and decide whether they’re comfortable interacting. That simple act of waiting communicates something important.

“I respect your space.”

Children understand this concept surprisingly well. When I explain that animals have feelings too—that they can feel excited, nervous, overwhelmed, curious, or uncertain—they begin to see the interaction from the animal’s point of view. The lesson is no longer about memorizing safety rules. It’s about understanding another living being.

I’ve watched children who were eager to rush toward every dog suddenly stop, smile, and patiently wait for the dog to approach. Instead of reaching first, they let curiosity replace impulse.

The amazing thing is that many dogs respond by choosing to come closer. Trust begins with choice. That’s an important lesson for children. When we teach children to give animals space, we’re teaching much more than dog safety or cat behavior. We’re helping them recognize that every living being deserves to feel safe and respected.

Compassion doesn’t begin with petting a dog. Sometimes it begins with waiting. Sometimes it begins with understanding that kindness isn’t always about doing something. Sometimes it’s about giving someone else the choice.

When understanding comes first, compassion follows. 

]]> https://cathyrosenthal.com/blog/2026/07/01/compassion-can-be-taught-lesson-1-let-dogs-and-cats-come-to-you/feed/ 0 https://cathyrosenthal.com/blog/2026/06/30/the-many-reasons-so-many-pets-go-missing-in-summer/ https://cathyrosenthal.com/blog/2026/06/30/the-many-reasons-so-many-pets-go-missing-in-summer/#respond Tue, 30 Jun 2026 15:23:45 +0000 https://cathyrosenthal.com/?p=17610

By Cathy M. Rosenthal

Summer isn’t just vacation season. It’s lost-pet season.

Every year, animal shelters brace for something many pet owners never see coming. As temperatures rise, so do the numbers of lost dogs and cats. Most people blame the Fourth of July. But fireworks are only one piece of a much bigger story.

Summer creates the perfect storm for pets to go missing.

Children are home from school and constantly opening doors. Families are traveling. Friends stop by to visit. Backyard projects leave gates unlatched. Delivery drivers come and go. Dogs spend more time outdoors. Cats slip through screened doors. Then add thunderstorms, neighborhood fireworks, unfamiliar visitors, and disrupted routines, and even the calmest pet can make one panicked decision.

Sometimes, it happens in seconds.

One moment your dog is lying beside you while you water the flowers. The next, a loud motorcycle, clap of thunder, or unexpected firework startles him, and he’s through an open gate you didn’t even realize was unlatched.

Over the years, I’ve heard the same sentence from heartbroken pet owners more times than I can count:

“He’s never done that before.”

Until he did.

According to animal shelters, the weeks surrounding the Fourth of July are among the busiest times of the year for stray-animal intake. But in many Texas neighborhoods, fireworks begin long before the holiday itself, often with little warning. For pets that fear loud noises, the anxiety may build for weeks.

Fear changes behavior.

Dogs have been known to climb fences they’ve ignored for years. Cats can squeeze through impossibly small openings. And once frightened, many pets don’t simply run next door. They keep running, becoming increasingly disoriented by noise, heat, and unfamiliar surroundings.

Summer also brings more opportunities for pets to slip away. Families take vacations. Friends stop by for barbecues. Pet sitters come and go. Children race in and out of the house. A guest forgets to latch the gate. A pet sitter doesn’t realize the cat bolts for the door. A family heads out to dinner just as a thunderstorm rolls in.

Most lost pets don’t disappear because someone was careless. They disappear because life happened. That’s why preparation matters far more than guilt.

If your pet becomes anxious during storms or fireworks, don’t wait until the Fourth of July to make a plan. Talk with your veterinarian now. Some pets benefit from medication. Others do well with a quiet room, white noise, closed curtains, or simply staying indoors with their family during noisy evenings.

Just as important, understand that accidents can happen. Make sure your pet’s microchip is registered with your current phone number. Check that ID tags are easy to read. Keep recent photos of your pet on your phone, and inspect gates and fencing regularly for loose boards, gaps, or latches that don’t quite close.

Unfortunately, not every lost pet makes it back home.

One of the biggest reasons is surprisingly simple: many aren’t carrying any form of identification.

The precautions may seem small — until they’re the very things that bring your pet home.

Above all, don’t assume your pet would never run away.

Every summer, shelters fill with dogs and cats whose families believed exactly that.

Sometimes, the difference between heartbreak and a happy reunion comes down to something as simple as an updated phone number on a tag or a registered microchip.

But before you start inspecting your dog every five minutes or canceling your hiking plans (your dog loves to hike), let’s talk about what pet owners really need to know.

One reason screwworm feels especially close to home for those of us in the Hill Country is that Kerrville has long played an important role in the fight against it. For decades, scientists at the USDA research facility in Kerrville helped develop and refine the techniques that eventually eradicated screwworm from the United States. Today, that work continues at the newly opened Knipling-Bushland U.S. Livestock Insects Research Laboratory right here in Kerrville.

So what exactly is screwworm? Unlike common maggots that feed on dead tissue, screwworm larvae feed on living tissue. The adult fly seeks out wounds, lays eggs, and when those eggs hatch, the larvae burrow into the wound and begin feeding. Left untreated, the infestation can become serious very quickly.

The good news is that the advice veterinarians give pet owners today is remarkably similar to what they’ve always given.

• Check your pets regularly, especially if they spend time outdoors. New World screwworm flies are attracted to open wounds, and those wounds do not have to be large. Something as small as a tick bite, scratch, puncture wound, surgical incision, or skin irritation can create an opening that deserves attention.
• Treat wounds promptly and monitor healing closely. Clean minor wounds as directed by your veterinarian and seek veterinary care for injuries that are deep, infected, slow to heal, or continue to drain. Following post-surgical instructions carefully is also important, as proper wound care reduces the risk of complications.
• Keep pets on year-round flea, tick, and parasite prevention. Preventing bites and skin irritation helps reduce the chances of wounds that could attract flies and other pests.
• Pay attention to anything that doesn’t look right. Check your pet regularly for unusual swelling, drainage, foul odors, areas of irritation, or wounds that seem larger than expected. Also watch for excessive licking, scratching, or discomfort. If something concerns you, contact your veterinarian rather than taking a wait-and-see approach.

The truth is that most responsible pet owners are already doing the very things that help protect their pets.

What concerns veterinarians most is not the family dog sleeping on the couch. It’s the animal with an untreated wound, the dog covered in ticks, the outdoor pet no one has looked at closely in weeks, or the pet recovering from surgery without close monitoring. Any wound that is not healing, appears infected, has an odor, produces drainage, or seems to be worsening rather than improving should be examined by a veterinarian. Good wound care has always been important, but with renewed attention on screwworm, it serves as another reminder that small skin problems can become larger ones when left untreated.

In other words, screwworm is less a reason to panic and more a reminder of why good pet care matters.

As someone who lives in Kerrville, I find it reassuring that some of the nation’s leading screwworm experts are literally in our backyard. Researchers, veterinarians, livestock producers, and government agencies are watching the situation closely.

For pet owners, the message remains simple: stay informed, stay observant, and continue doing what keeps your pets healthy every day.

Because while screwworms may be making headlines, good pet care remains your pet’s best defense.

Not all powerful stories arrive with fanfare.

Some arrive quietly, on four paws and bare feet, along the edge of a long road.

Across the country, a small group of monks has been walking mile after mile as part of a cross-country Peace Walk. They began in Texas in late October and will travel roughly 2,300 miles through multiple states, with Washington, D.C., as their destination. They are scheduled to arrive on February 9, 2026. Their intention is simple and profound: to promote peace and compassion through human connection.

The monks themselves are part of the message.

They walk slowly and intentionally. Some in socks, some in shoes with a staff in hand.  They rely on kindness for their food and accommodations. Along the way, they listen more than they speak. Their presence gently reminds us that peace is not something we demand of others; it is something we practice as we move through the world.

Yet for many people who encounter them, it is not only the monks who leave an impression.

It is the dog.

His name is Aloka.

Aloka’s life did not begin on a peaceful path. He was once a street dog in India, navigating a world where survival often depends on luck and resilience. Eventually, he found his way into the care of monks, who gave him what every dog deserves—safety, routine, and a place to belong.

When the monks traveled to the United States for their Peace Walk, they made sure Aloka could come, too.

Since then, Aloka has become a steady presence along the journey. Some days, he walks beside the monks. Other days, he rests in a support vehicle. The group typically covers about 20 to 23 miles per day, but Aloka’s participation is carefully paced based on his energy level, weather conditions, and terrain.

He has a warm coat for cold days. Boots for rough ground or snow. And, at one point, he required surgery to repair a tendon in his leg—after which his walking schedule was gently adjusted so he could heal properly.

In other words, he is not treated as a mascot.

He is treated as family and as an important being on the journey.

Along the route, something remarkable keeps happening. People stop. They ask questions. They offer water. They bring meals. Children wave. Adults smile. Some hand over dog food, blankets, beds, or even strollers so Aloka can still “walk” alongside the monks while resting. A few people kneel down just long enough to give Aloka a soft scratch behind the ears.

Just small acts of kindness, repeated again and again.

There is something deeply symbolic about a formerly homeless dog traveling thousands of miles with monks devoted to compassion.

The monks show us that peace begins with how we treat one another in every step we take.

Aloka shows us that peace is in the moment.

Together, they show us that peace is not abstract—it is personal.

Dogs don’t concern themselves with destinations or headlines. They care about the moment they’re in and the beings beside them. Aloka doesn’t know where Washington, D.C., is. He doesn’t understand the concept of a Peace Walk. What he understands is companionship.

So, he stays close to the monks.

He trusts them.

He walks with them.

In a world that often feels loud, divided, and rushed, Aloka’s presence—paired with the monks’ quiet devotion—offers a gentle reminder: peace does not always announce itself.

Sometimes peace looks like a quiet walk.

Sometimes it looks like a group of strangers sharing water on a hot day.

Sometimes it looks like a dog who was once alone, now surrounded by love and care.

Those of us who share our lives with animals recognize this truth instinctively. Animals teach us how to slow down. They show us how to notice. They remind us that connection does not require a common language—only willingness.

Maybe that is why so many people feel moved when they see Aloka walking beside the monks.

It’s not just a sweet story.

It’s a mirror.

It reflects what the world could look like if we chose compassion more often than judgment, curiosity more often than fear, and kindness more often than indifference.

So the next time you head out the door with your dog, consider making the walk more than just exercise.

Let it be a pause.

Let it be a moment.

Let it be, in its own small way, a walk for peace.

by Cathy M. Rosenthal

I knew winter weather was on the way when I walked into the grocery store and discovered that the toilet paper and bottled water aisles had been hit hard. Apparently, we might be iced in or snowed in for a few days — and, once again, toilet paper was the first thing to go.

What surprised me wasn’t the empty shelves, though. It was how many people were clearly preparing for themselves without giving much thought to their pets. Are you stocked up on water for your animals? Do you have enough pet food on hand if roads become impassable for a day or two? While there seemed to be plenty of pet food still available, emergencies have a way of changing that quickly.

When cold weather arrives fast, it’s easy to focus on our own comfort and forget that pets depend on us to plan ahead. They don’t understand weather alerts or emergency warnings — they just know when they’re cold, uncomfortable, or confused by a sudden change in routine.

Cold snaps don’t always arrive gradually. Sometimes they move across the country quickly, catching people — and pets — off guard. Even in areas that don’t typically experience harsh winters, like Texas, sudden drops in temperature can put animals at real risk. When that happens, pets rely on us to make thoughtful, protective choices on their behalf.

The safest place for pets during cold weather is inside your home. Dogs should be brought indoors overnight, and cats who are usually allowed outside should be kept in until temperatures rise again. Even healthy, street-smart outdoor cats can struggle with cold, wind, and damp conditions.

When dogs do go outside, keep trips short and purposeful. Puppies, senior dogs, small dogs, and short-haired breeds lose body heat quickly. If your dog is shivering, lifting their paws, or reluctant to walk, those are signs they’re too cold. Yes, that small dog in a sweater probably needs it. Once back inside, dry pets thoroughly and wipe their paws to remove moisture, ice melt, and other residues that can irritate skin or be harmful if ingested.

For dogs who are not allowed inside the home, appropriate shelter is critical — and not all shelters are created equal. A proper option might be a garage, an enclosed porch, or a sturdy, insulated doghouse that blocks wind and stays dry. Bedding should be straw, which insulates even when damp. Blankets and towels can absorb moisture and freeze, making them dangerous in cold weather. Fresh water must be checked frequently to ensure it hasn’t iced over, and some pets may need slightly more food to maintain body heat, with guidance from a veterinarian.

Cats aren’t the only small animals affected by cold weather. Rabbits, in particular, are extremely vulnerable. Rabbits should never be left outside in hutches during cold snaps. Cold, drafts, and dampness can be life-threatening for them. Rabbits should be brought indoors or into a warm, protected space until temperatures stabilize.

It’s also important to be mindful of animals you don’t know. Outdoor cats often seek warmth under car hoods or near engines during cold weather. Knocking on the hood or tapping the car before starting it can prevent a tragic accident. If you notice a pet left outside in extreme cold without adequate shelter, reach out to local animal services, a humane society, or community resources for help.

Pay attention to signs of cold stress in any animal: shivering, lethargy, hunched posture, whining, slowed movement, or seeking heat sources. These are signals that conditions are unsafe and action is needed immediately.

Cold weather doesn’t have to be prolonged to be dangerous. A single night of exposure can lead to hypothermia, frostbite, or worse. Pets don’t understand weather alerts or forecasts. They understand comfort, safety, and trust.

What’s the rule: If it’s too cold for you, it’s too cold for your pets. Take a moment to make a cold-weather plan: bring pets inside, check shelter and water sources, and adjust routines as needed. These small steps can make a lifesaving difference.

Winter weather may move on quickly, but the choices we make during it matter. Our pets depend on us — and when the cold comes fast, they need us to show up even faster.

This time of year can be tough on people, and it can be just as hard on our pets. The holidays are over, routines have shifted again, the weather is colder, and the days can still feel heavy with darkness. Many people experience a version of the winter blues during January and February, even if they don’t call it that. Less daylight, more time indoors, and fewer spontaneous moments of joy can quietly affect our mood.

Our animals notice these changes too.

Changes in routine often show up in subtle ways. Dogs and cats may sleep more, play less, seem clingier, or withdraw a bit when daily rhythms shift. These responses are not signs of something being wrong—they’re normal expressions of adaptability. Animals thrive on predictability, and when schedules, activity levels, or household energy change, they adjust in the only ways they know how. What looks like a behavior problem is often just a response to a different pattern of living.

Dogs and cats are deeply attuned to the rhythms of our lives. When our schedules change, our energy dips, or the household feels quieter—or more tense—they feel it. A dog who seems clingier than usual, a cat who retreats under the bed, or a pet who sleeps more or plays less is often responding not to a problem, but to the season where everyone in the household has slowed down.

Winter naturally brings less stimulation. Walks may be shorter. Outdoor play may be limited by cold, ice, or snow. Windows stay closed. The world gets smaller. For indoor cats and dogs in snowy climates, especially, the change can feel abrupt. One day they’re sniffing every blade of grass or basking in sunny windows, and the next they’re navigating boots, coats, and a lot more time inside.

It’s also worth remembering that while winter can feel endless in the moment, we’ve already passed the most important milestone: the winter solstice. That means the darkest days are behind us. There is nothing but increasing light ahead.

Even if it doesn’t feel dramatic yet, the days are getting longer. The sun is slowly returning. That matters—to us and to our pets.

In the meantime, small adjustments can make a big difference. For dogs who are missing longer walks, short bursts of indoor play can help burn energy and lift spirits. A few minutes of tug, hide-and-seek with treats, or basic training games can be surprisingly effective. For cats, rotating toys, adding puzzle feeders, or even something as simple as a cardboard box can spark curiosity and movement.

Mental enrichment matters just as much as physical exercise, especially in winter. Sniffing games for dogs and hunting-style play for cats tap into natural behaviors that don’t require perfect weather. And sometimes, the most powerful thing you can offer is simply presence—sitting together, brushing, talking softly, or sharing a quiet moment.

It’s also okay to give yourself some grace. If you’re feeling slower or less motivated this time of year, you’re human. Your pets don’t need perfection. They need consistency, kindness, and reassurance—and those can show up in very simple ways.

One thing I hear often in January is worry. People wonder if their dog has become lazy, if their cat is depressed, or if they’ve somehow failed their pet. In most cases, what they’re seeing is normal seasonal adjustment. Behavior doesn’t exist in a vacuum; it’s shaped by environment, routine, and emotional climate.

As the light continues to return, you may notice subtle shifts. A little more energy. A little more curiosity. A little more playfulness. These changes often arrive quietly, just as winter settles in quietly.

So if your pet feels different right now, take a breath. Look at the calendar. Look at the light. This season is temporary.

Spring will come. Longer days are already on their way. Until then, a little patience, creativity, and compassion—for your pet and for yourself—can carry you both through.

Sometimes, simply understanding why things feel harder is enough to make them easier.

If your pet could write a letter to Santa, I doubt they’d ask for a new toy, sweater, or even those fancy holiday treats shaped like snowmen. They’d probably ask for something much simpler—like for you to stop moving their bed, lighting up strange objects in the living room, and inviting people over who keep calling them “Fluffy” when their name is clearly Max.

We love the holidays for the hustle, gatherings, laughter, lights, and full houses. But for our pets, it can feel like someone rearranged the universe without asking their opinion. Furniture gets moved. Suitcases appear. Relatives arrive. Doors open and close. Music gets louder. Schedules get later. Dinner smells change—sometimes for the better, sometimes… not so much.

Remember, pets don’t understand holidays. They understand routines.

So, when things start shifting—trees in living rooms, noisy doorbells, kids running around with wrapping paper stuck to their shoes—pets react in very normal ways. Some cling to us like Velcro. Some vanish under the bed until the New Year. And some—especially kittens and puppies—help us discover that ribbon, tinsel, and ornament hooks are not just decorations but also emergency vet visits waiting to happen.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t decorate or celebrate. Just remember to give your pet their own version of holiday comfort:

• Keep one room quiet and clutter-free—a little retreat when the festivities get too festive.

• Use their regular bed, toys, and blankets, because familiar smells reassure them more than you know.

• Try to keep feeding and walking schedules consistent. Yes, even when you’re busy basting the turkey.

But there’s one more thing pets want during the holidays—something no cozy corner, scented candle, or calming treat can replace.

They still want you.

Not the hurried, “I’ll walk you when I finish wrapping gifts” version of you. Not the “just be good for one more hour” version. They want the present, calm, sit-down-and-scratch-my-ear version.

The good news? Pets don’t need all your time—they just need some intentional time.

Five minutes of undistracted ear scratching. A slow, snowy walk (before the driveway gets crowded with cars). A quiet evening on the couch after guests leave and dishes are piled high in the sink.

Because while we measure holidays by what we gave, cooked, hosted, or wrapped, our pets remember holidays in a much simpler way.

They remember who sat with them.
Who kept their routine.
Who made them feel safe when the world got busy and loud.

So this year, amid the lights and lists, give your pet three little gifts:

A safe, quiet space when they need a break
Their regular routine (or as close as you can manage)
Your calm, loving presence

Because when the decorations come down, and life goes back to normal, your pet won’t remember what was under the tree or near the menorah.

But they will remember who curled up beside it.