A Season to Breathe: Finding Rest with Our Dogs

As I worked through the greenhouse’s autumn clean and winter preparations, I found myself thinking about how much this season of rest can mean for dogs and their guardians, too.

I was protecting young biennials, frost-sensitive trees and shrubs, and the asparagus, getting everything ready for the colder months. And as I did, I thought about the summer we’ve just come through.

It’s been a tough one for gardeners and animal guardians alike. Successive heatwaves and soaring temperatures have affected us, our animal families and our plants.

We’ve invested in fans, ice blocks and frozen enrichment. We’ve kept a close eye on hydration, appetites and how everyone is coping, watching for signs of lethargy, sickness, diarrhoea or overheating. In the heat, it can feel as though we need to stay alert every moment.

Then, little by little, the temperatures began to fall. I felt grateful for a break from the constant worry about the heat and its potentially lethal impact. My own animals became more playful and active again, while the garden and greenhouse looked worn out from the long, hot spell.

The plants were recovering, but rain remained scarce and the nights grew colder. There was a lovely reward, though: summer’s vegetables and fruit were ready to harvest.

I felt sad as the growing season began to draw to a close. I’d miss watching my plants grow stronger, enjoying their colours and eagerly waiting for the vegetables to ripen. But every growing season needs a pause.

So I’ve stopped adding to my compost bins for now. I’ve weeded and tidied, harvested, cooked, pickled, preserved and frozen what I could, and collected seeds for next year. I’ve planted winter salad leaves, onions and garlic, ready for spring. There’s still movement and growth, but the pace has changed. This is a time to rest, reflect and make plans for the next season.

I love keeping journals. Maybe that’s my neurodivergence, my love of learning, or a bit of both. I find it useful to note what I’ve planted and harvested, and how the plants have fared. And those of you who know me will know I love helping guardians create easier lives with their dogs, including through journals that help them notice and record what matters.

One of the lovely things about keeping a journal is that it gives you something to return to. When I look back next year, I’ll be able to remember what I planted, what the weather was like and how everything responded. I hope those notes will help me feel a little more confident as I prepare for spring—not because I’ll have everything figured out, but because I’ll be able to see what I’ve already learned.

Perhaps our notes about life with our dogs can offer something similar. They can help us remember what felt manageable, what our dogs enjoyed and what we discovered along the way. Over autumn and winter, our confidence as guardians might grow quietly, through small observations and gentle adjustments, as spring approaches. There’s no deadline for that. We can take the time we need.

The autumn shift, darker evenings and cooler temperatures can feel daunting or isolating if your dog finds other dogs or people frightening or overwhelming, or becomes highly aroused when they see them.

It can seem as though the opportunities to learn disappear when the weather changes. But they don’t disappear just because the evenings grow darker. In fact, this can be a wonderful time to enjoy your dog.

If it suits you and feels safe, quieter walks in the early morning or evening may mean fewer chance encounters with other dogs and people. Wrapped up warmly, with a torch and high-visibility clothing, you may find a little more breathing space. Your dog might need a coat, too. And if dark walks don’t feel safe or comfortable for you, there are other ways to find quieter places or times.

You don’t have to turn every walk into a training session or a chance to meet someone. A slow, sniff-filled wander, guided by your dog’s interests, can be enough. You can follow their lead, take a breath and let some of the worry about bumping into a trigger ease away.

For me, this time of year can give guardians and their dogs permission to breathe. It offers a chance to enjoy one another without so much pressure from the outside world.

Many guardians have said to me, “I wish people could see them at home, when it’s just us and how lovely they are.”

I understand that feeling. When we let go of the pressure to socialise, and of standards that don’t fit us or our dogs, we can begin to see that other people’s opinions don’t have to define our relationship. A dog who finds the modern world too much can still be a cherished, wonderful companion. Your guardian skills aren’t measured by how well your dog copes with every person, dog or situation.

As the garden rests and prepares for spring, perhaps we can make room for a gentler season with our dogs, too: less pressure, more sniffing, more noticing, and more time simply enjoying the relationship we already have.