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.

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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.

By Cathy M. Rosenthal

Dogs don’t understand Daylight Saving Time. Cats don’t know why it’s suddenly dark when their humans come home. And neither understands why their favorite walking buddy now says: “It’s too cold,” “It’s too dark,” or “Maybe tomorrow.”

Welcome to the time of year when pets start feeling a little bored. I’m not talking about “staring out the window watching squirrels” bored. I mean, “I’ve memorized every corner of this house, and I’m going to invent my own fun,” bored.

Pet parents often tell me that at this time of year, their dogs suddenly start chewing remote controls, barking at every little noise, or getting the “midnight zoomies”—running laps around the house when everyone else is trying to sleep. Cats get creative too, deciding to redecorate the living room with tissue boxes, unravel the toilet paper, or attack your feet under the blankets at 2 A.M.

Many people refer to these as behavior problems. But often, they’re really just signs of boredom, under-stimulation, and too much energy with nowhere to go. During spring and summer, pets get stimulation from open windows, weekend walks, yard time, squirrels, birds, and sunshine to observe. But in winter? We shut the doors, close the blinds, dim the lights, cancel long walks, and spend more time working, watching TV, and cooking cozy meals.

Our pets go from “sensory playground” to “bored out of their minds.” It’s not that they miss sunshine. They miss the stimulation – the walks, the outdoor play, and general exercise that comes when days are longer.

Pets need three kinds of stimulation to stay mentally and emotionally healthy:

1. Physical Exercise

Walking is not just about potty breaks. It’s about sniffing, exploring, seeing new things — it’s a dog’s version of checking social media. Even short walks matter. A 10-minute walk around the block can ease anxiety, reduce barking, and calm restless behavior. No time to walk? Try indoor fetch, hallway sprints, tug toys, or hide-and-seek. Yes, hide-and-seek is a real game you can play with your dog — hide behind a door, call their name, and watch them light up with joy when they find you. Giving them a treat will improve their “recall” training, too!

2. Mental Stimulation

Think of puzzle toys as crossword puzzles for pets. Food-dispensing toys, treat puzzles, snuffle mats, cardboard boxes for cats (at this time of year you can probably offer them a few different boxes a week), even hiding kibble around the house — all keep pets thinking, searching, solving, and working for a reward. Our pets need mental work, which can actually tire them out even more than physical exercise. That barking dog or door-scratching cat might just need something to do.

 3. Social & Emotional Interaction

Pets don’t just need toys. They need us. Five minutes of play, brushing, training, or snuggling with our pets can rebalance their mood faster than you think. Even independent cats benefit from planned play sessions — yes, even the aloof ones. What they are craving is an emotional connection, and both dogs and cats thrive on it.

So, if your normally well-behaved dog suddenly chews your slippers, or your mild-mannered cat starts climbing the curtains this time of year, ask yourself: Is this a behavior problem — or is this a lack of stimulation? Pets don’t destroy things to be naughty. They do it because they’re trying to entertain themselves. And honestly? They’re pretty good at it.

So make a point to offer your pet a little playtime, opportunities for movement, puzzle toys, and some physical connection with you every day. You’ll be surprised at how quickly a few small moments of engagement can ease their boredom. Your Apple Watch already prompts you to stand every hour—why not program it to remind you to give your pet a little attention, too?

I can’t believe I’ve gone the entire month of November without posting a blog. I had every intention of writing. I even scribbled ideas on napkins, sticky notes, and the back of grocery receipts as I always do. But every time I sat down to write, something else kept calling to me.  That “something else” was a very big something — and I’m thrilled (and a little relieved) to say: Goal achieved. I just published my new book, Grant Writing Boot Camp for Animal Advocates, right before Thanksgiving.

I’ve spent the past 20 years helping animal shelters, spay/neuter programs, rescues, outreach teams, and community organizations write grants, train staff, and tell their stories in ways that funders understand. But I could never help everyone — and I kept hearing the same worry over and over again:

“I love animals. I know our work matters. But I can’t get funders to take notice.”

So I decided to teach it — one workshop at a time. Then those workshops turned into handouts, handouts turned into worksheets, worksheets turned into templates, templates turned into 21 lessons… and one day, I realized I wasn’t just teaching grant writing. I was teaching people how to tell their mission stories in a powerful, confident way — and get them funded.

And one thing I knew from the beginning: This book had to be written specifically for animal people.

Because writing a grant for a spay/neuter clinic is not the same as writing one for a museum. Explaining why a community cat program matters is different than explaining a youth art initiative. Describing compassion fatigue, or outreach in food deserts, or emergency veterinary care — these things require heart, context, real animal stories, and field language that non-animal groups don’t speak.

So, I wrote this book to help the people who write grants. I hope you find it practical, friendly, and straightforward. This book will walk you step-by-step through how to build your project, budget for it, find the right funders, write each grant section, and even avoid the common mistakes that get animal grants rejected. It includes 21 lessons, 110 Boot Camp Tips, 48 AI Pro Tips, and over 40 templates, checklists, and worksheets, because sometimes you just need to see exactly how something is done in order to do it yourself. And whether you write 50 grants a year or are just getting started, this book has something for everyone who wants to ensure they are addressing grant funders’ questions, and in language funders understand.

Check it out and download a free chapter when you d0! I’ll be back this week with more pet advice to help strengthen that beautiful bond we share with the animals in our lives.

Dear Cathy,
My 60-pound Labrador, Lily, treats bath time like I’ve invited her to the world’s scariest waterslide. The second I say “Let’s get you clean,” she disappears behind the couch and somehow becomes twelve paws of hydraulic resistance. Is there a kinder, smarter way to get her bathed without turning my bathroom into a slip-n-slide of doom? — Jenna, Las Vegas, Nevada

Dear Jenna,
You’ve just described a universal truth: many dogs believe the bathtub is a portal to another dimension. The good news is we can make bath day less “run for your life!” and more “spa with snacks.”

First, check for a reason behind the drama.
If Lily’s fear is new, rule out aches and pains. Arthritis, sore hips, ear infections, or even a too-warm water temp can turn a routine rinse into “absolutely not.” A quick veterinary check and gentler handling can make all the difference.

Reset the bathroom vibe.
Right now, your dog associates bathroom = bath = nope. For the next week, turn the bathroom into a treat palace: toss a trail of tiny goodies leading in, feed a stuffed lick mat on the floor, and practice short sit-treat-leave sessions. No water, no lifting—just “good things happen in this room.” Ten tasty visits later, the room starts to feel less like a trap and more like a cafeteria.

Get a grip (literally).
Slippery surfaces scare dogs. Lay down a rubber bath mat or folded towel in the tub and on the path to it. When feet don’t slide, hearts don’t race.

Lower the splash factor.
Skip the power-spray. Use a gentle handheld sprayer on the lowest setting or a plastic cup for scooping. Test water at baby-bath warm—not hot, not chilly, it needs to be just right. If the sprayer sound is spooky, fill a small bucket and pour slowly along the spine. Never spray water into the ears or face.

Pre-game with a brush.
A good brushing before the bath lifts loose hair and dirt, which makes the wash quicker—and less time in the tub makes everyone happier. Bonus: It also reduces drain clogs.

Soap smart.
Use a dog shampoo (not human—our pH is different) and dilute it in a squeeze bottle: one part shampoo to four parts water. This spreads easier, rinses faster, and avoids that soapy “forever rinse” that makes dogs formulate escape plans.

Make it a lick-and-learn session.
Smear a silicone lick mat with peanut butter (xylitol-free), cream cheese, or wet food and stick it to the wall at nose height. While Lily licks, you wash. It’s hard to argue with bath time when your mouth is busy with snacks.

Wash order matters.
Start at the shoulders and work back, saving the tail area for last (it’s touchy) and skipping the face entirely. Instead, use a damp cloth to gently wipe the muzzle and around the eyes. Place cotton balls lightly in the ears to keep out water, and remove them when you’re done.

Rinse like you mean it.
Residue itches and causes flakes. Rinse until the coat feels “squeaky” under your fingers, then rinse once more for luck. Towel dry—press, don’t rub, to avoid knots with long-haired dogs—and finish with a calm walk or a sun nap to help the coat settle.

If tub = terror, change the stage.
Some dogs prefer an outdoor bath with two buckets (one soapy, one rinse) and zero sprayer noise. Others relax in a walk-in shower where they can step in on their own. Still too much? Try a professional groomer with a low-stress setup and non-slip grooming tables.

Waterless for the win.
Between full baths—or for dogs who write strongly worded letters about shampoo—use pet wipes, foam or spray-on waterless shampoos, and a good brush-out. Spray into your hands first to avoid the hiss near sensitive ears, massage through the coat, then towel. Your dog thinks it’s a massage; you call it “maintenance.”

Reinforce the right ending.
The bath is over when the treats say it’s over. End with a favorite game, dinner, or a special chew so the last thing Lily remembers is “post-bath perks,” not “suds and suspense.”

The real secret? Bath day isn’t one big event; it’s a series of tiny, positive moments. Stack enough of those—and add snacks—and your “portal of doom” might turn into “five-star dog spa” for Lily.