My childhood dream was simple: a dog. While others envisioned grand travels or fortunes, I dreamt of a four-legged companion with a wagging tail. This dream persisted until I finally welcomed Lenny, a 17-month-old Hungarian Vizsla, into my life. I knew Vizslas were energetic, requiring significant effort, and I prepared extensively – reading books, visiting forums, and questioning owners about negative experiences. Even warnings about the impact on our social lives and finances didn’t deter me. Despite all this due diligence, nothing truly prepared me for the reality that would hit. For a significant period, it honestly felt like My Dog Ruined My Life.
The Initial Shock: Life Under Puppy Lockdown
The truth is that for the first year after getting a puppy, leaving the house is nearly impossible. Vizslas, like most dogs, can’t be left for more than four hours at a time, and even that requires building up in tiny increments, making days out impossible. We spent a lot of time at home, thankfully near parks, with an open-plan house that could accommodate him.
On top of being housebound, we couldn’t host visitors because of “the sharkies” – the intense biting phase when your pup is teething, destroying everything they sink their teeth into. Lenny frequently made my 10-year-old daughter cry as he chewed her leg or favourite jumper. We’d frantically tell her to grab a toy as he unleashed his sharp needle teeth.
What about those idyllic walks and runs? They were non-existent early on. He was limited to short walks a few times a day to protect his growing limbs, and running was off-limits for the first year.
Beyond the Bites: Social Strain and Public Stress
My puppy remorse built fast. The dog that was supposed to unite our family was not only trapping us at home, but we were also spending less time together as my husband and I tag-teamed puppy and childcare duties.
It didn’t help that as a big dog – Lenny weighs 32kg – most people expected him to be well behaved, even though he wouldn’t be fully mature until at least two years old. In the meantime, he remained an impulsive puppy, loving to jump on people (terrifying small children) and chase bikes and runners.
A simple walk with Lenny could be stressful and filled with tears – usually mine. For months, I was berated by runners, cyclists, and walkers. “Keep him on a lead!” they’d scold when Lenny ignored my recalls. One parent even threatened to call the police as their child squealed, terrified of Lenny, but also exciting him further, making it impossible to get him back. By the time I regained control, I was apologising on my knees, silently wishing the father would follow through so Lenny would be taken away, and I could be free again.
Each time we thought he could be trusted off-lead, he’d bolt after an unsuspecting person, leaving me humiliated and apologetic.
The Mental and Financial Cost
I devoured books, watched endless YouTube videos, and messaged my dog trainer daily, desperate to improve his behaviour. I invested in a long training lead – which resulted in a broken finger for me and nearly broke Lenny’s leg when he got tangled. This led to a month of garden rest for him and a £2,400 vet bill.
It may come as no surprise that when my husband left the country for five weeks for work, I experienced what I can only describe as a mild breakdown. I was diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder and felt like a total idiot as I sobbed to my therapist that my much-wanted puppy was causing so much stress I couldn’t sleep or eat. This was not how my dog-owning life was supposed to be, and I genuinely felt My Dog Ruined My Life during that period.
However, I’m not alone in my pet remorse. Latest statistics from financial guidance platform Forbes Adviser show that nearly three in 10 Brits regret getting a dog.
Expert Perspectives: Understanding “Puppy Blues” and Regret
Psychotherapist Kamalyn Kaur is unsurprised by these figures, explaining that many people “sugar-coat” their experiences or simply forget the really difficult times. To avoid regret, she recommends deep thinking and being realistic about the commitment required for a dependent creature. “Ask yourself if you have the time, lifestyle and finances to provide the care your pet needs,” she advises. “Ask yourself why you want this pet. Is it because you’ve just had a relationship break-up or you’re feeling lonely?”
Emily Birch, a clinical animal behaviourist, agrees that many romanticise dog ownership and don’t admit to the dark feelings she calls “post-puppy depression.” “People don’t talk about the fact that owning a dog can be awful for the first year or so,” says Emily. She thinks the worst age is between 11 months and two years, before they fully mature and their behaviour becomes less impulsive. Emily stresses the importance of training, as you can’t just wait for them to grow out of bad habits. Dogs have unique personalities – some are inherently fizzy and impulsive, while others are laid back. You don’t always know what you’re getting, but fundamentals can still be taught.
Woman sitting on grass with her Hungarian Vizsla dog after seeking help for puppy blues and anxiety
Living with the Reality: Progress and Lingering Challenges
After a course of CBT and working with a brilliant dog trainer, my anxiety is finally under control, and so is Lenny – mostly. However, foreign holidays remain firmly off the agenda as no one is prepared to look after him, and certain friends still won’t visit due to their fear of dogs. My house is constantly filthy and covered in dog hair, and I’m learning to overlook the holes he’s dug in the garden.
Emily Birch notes that if your dog is genuinely not the right fit, it’s okay to rehome them. Speaking to your breeder or local rescue centre can provide professional advice, but ultimately, only you can decide if you’re ready. A different environment with someone who has more time or space might be the perfect fit for the dog.
I’m not ready to rehome Lenny yet – I don’t think my children would forgive me – so I’m hoping that continued training and a bit more growing up will make him more loveable and less regrettable.
My journey with Lenny has been a stark reminder that the romanticized image of dog ownership often hides significant challenges. While my anxiety and Lenny’s behavior are now largely managed thanks to professional help, the impact on our lives – travel, social visits, keeping a clean home – is undeniable. It’s a constant learning process, balancing the dream with the difficult reality. Though the feeling that my dog ruined my life was real for a time, we are finding our way, hoping that continued training and maturity will bring more love and less regret.
