"It's Just A Dog"

Humans don't deserve these furry balls of love...

Jul 08, 2025

Read time: Approx 5 mins

I’ll get one thing off my chest right off the bat: If you mistreat animals, children, the elderly, or any other vulnerable population, I probably don’t like you.

There’s a phrase people say all the time, often without even realizing the weight it carries:

“It’s just a dog.”

Said with a shrug when someone grieves too much.

Muttered when a vet bill feels too high.

Spoken with annoyance when a dog “misbehaves.”

That simple sentence, as benign as it "sounds,” does something dangerous. It flattens a life. It pushes aside complexity. It gives us a glossy little excuse to overlook suffering, to justify control, and to tune out empathy.

It doesn’t start with dogs, of course. This is a well-worn human strategy:
Label something as less than and you don’t have to care as much.
Call it “just a dog,” “just an animal,” “just a refugee,” “just a criminal,” “just a pest,” and you’ve created distance. Distance is what makes mistreatment palatable.

But dogs…dogs are not appliances or property or decorations for our lives. They’re sentient, HIGHLY emotional beings—full of joy, fear, love, grief, and loyalty. And the way we treat them says more about us than it does about them.

Science confirms this emotionality. Dogs experience primary emotions (joy, fear, anger) and some secondary emotions like jealousy and anxiety. They read human facial expressions, sense our moods via energy, and even respond to the tone of our voice. A study from Emory University showed that dogs activate the same regions in the brain as humans when smelling the scent of someone they love. In their world, your smell is safety.

Cognitively, your average dog is roughly equivalent to a 2 to 2.5-year-old human child, forever in the toddler phase…They can understand words, gestures, and routines. Border Collies have been shown to learn and recall over 1,000 object names, which far beyond what most people would expect from an animal dismissed as “just a pet.”

Instead of honoring that inner life, though, we often ignore it.

Picture a toddler locked in a room for 12 hours a day, with no toys, no interaction, and punishment for crying. That would be called abuse.

Now picture a dog in a crate for the same amount of time…bored, anxious, desperate to move…it’s passed off as “good training.”

We often punish behaviors that are simply attempts at communication: barking, chewing, pacing, whining. We label them “bad,” “annoying,” “difficult,” when really, they’re trying to say: I’m scared. I’m bored. I don’t know what you want from me.

This kind of treatment, unfortunately, is not a rare occurrence in our human-centered world. It has become routine. It’s normalized. And it’s all made easier by that phrase: “It’s just a dog.”

And wouldn’t you know it, “It’s just a dog” has cousins…

“They’re just criminals.”
“They’re just illegals.”
“They’re just animals (chickens, cows, pigs, deer, wolves, etc.)”
“They’re just the help.”
“They’re just <insert any marginalized group or race>”

It’s a linguistic sleight of hand…a way to strip individuals of their complexity so we can ignore their pain.

Psychologists call this moral disengagement. Once we label someone as “other,” we disconnect from their experience. History is soaked in this habit. Enslavement. Colonization. Genocide. Factory farming. Species extinction.
Every one of those required a first step—calling someone or something less than.

That’s why what we say about dogs matters. Because, if we’re being honest, it’s not just about dogs. It’s about the muscle of empathy and how easily it can atrophy when we stop using it.

Take breed discrimination, for example. Pit Bulls, Rottweilers, Dobermans... All are labeled as “dangerous” by the media, banned from apartments, and euthanized in shelters. Why?

Because we’ve decided that breed = behavior. Which isn’t backed by data…

A massive study in Science analyzed genetic links to behavior in over 18,000 dogs and found that breed accounts for only about 9% of behavioral variation. What really determines behavior? Socialization, environment, training, trauma. How interesting…just like us “superior” humans, if they’re dealt a shi*ty hand, they might show up emotionally wounded.

We do this with people, too. We associate certain communities with crime, poverty, or violence because of cultural stories passed down like bad heirlooms.

The sad consequence? Dogs are put down, people are locked up, entire communities are written off. All because of myths dressed up as truth.

Whether it’s a growling dog, a protesting worker, a teenager acting out, or a community demanding justice—too often, we respond to the behavior without asking why it’s happening.

Dogs bark because they’re trying to alert, connect, express.
People yell because they’ve been ignored or dismissed for too long.
Children cry because their needs aren’t being met.
Wild animals attack when their habitat is destroyed.

In every case, behavior is communication. And when we dismiss the communicator by calling them “just a dog,” “just angry,” “just a nuisance,” we miss the chance to respond with empathy, rather than control.

Let’s imagine a story about a dog…call him Max.

Max was a young mixed-breed dog adopted by a family who meant well, but didn’t know what dogs really need. He was crated too much, walked too little, punished for being overwhelmed. When he had an accident, he was scolded. When he growled or barked out of fear, they called him aggressive. He was surrendered. No one adopted him. He was euthanized at two years old.

There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with Max. He was confused. Misunderstood. He wasn’t dangerous. He was trying to cope.

It’s the story of every being who got labeled before they were loved.
Who was punished instead of heard. Who was dismissed because they were inconvenient.

This isn’t JUST about dogs. It’s about us.

How we treat the voiceless reveals who we are.

We live in a society that often prioritizes order over understanding and control over compassion. Rather than listen to discomfort, we choose to punish it. We fear “different,” rather than viewing it as an opportunity to learn. And many are taught from an early age to rank life…by species, race, class, ability, age…so we know who’s worth caring about and who isn’t.

Empathy doesn’t scale that way. You either practice it, or you lose it.

And dogs? They’re empathy boot camp. They show us how to love unconditionally without language. How to read emotion without words. How to stay connected to joy, play, loyalty, and presence.

If we can’t get it right with them…if we write them off as “just dogs”…we're in danger of doing the same to anyone or anything else that requires our patience, our curiosity, or our care.

Enough with the:

“It’s just a dog.”

“They’re just animals.”

“They’re just…”

Instead, let’s use our human brains to reflect:

“What are they trying to say?”

“What do they need?”

“How can I respond with care instead of control?”

Empathy should be a reflex, not optional. We don’t need to rationalize treating another living being with respect.

It was never “just a dog.”

It was someone who trusted you. Someone who mattered. And that should always be enough.

Scrubbed In, Checked Out

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