I used to think my dog’s anxiety needed a “big solution.”
Table Of Content
- The Pattern That Made Me Try Something Different
- The Game (And Why It’s Surprisingly Effective)
- How I Did It (Without Turning It Into Training School)
- 1) I started when he was calm, not when he was spiraling
- 2) I kept it short—like, weirdly short
- 3) I made it harder only when he clearly “got it”
- 4) I used it as a “doorbell reset”
- What Changed Over a Few Weeks (Quiet Improvements)
- 1) He recovered faster after “spikes”
- 2) He paced less
- 3) His body language softened
- 4) I stopped feeling like I needed to manage him constantly
- The Part That Almost Ruined It
- If You Want to Try It, Here’s the Easy Version
- Final Verdict
Like… if he was pacing, barking at random sounds, staring at the door like it was personally offending him, then I probably needed a trainer, a new routine, a calming product, maybe a whole lifestyle reset.
And sometimes, sure—dogs do need bigger help. But in our case, the anxiety was the everyday kind. Not constant panic. More like these weird spikes that showed up at the most annoying times:
- right when I sat down to relax
- right when guests arrived
- right when the house got quiet
- right when he heard something outside and decided it was suspicious
It wasn’t dramatic enough for people to take seriously. But it was frequent enough to make the house feel tense. You know that feeling where your dog isn’t even doing anything “bad,” but their nervous energy starts filling the room? That.
I also noticed something: when he got anxious, he didn’t want comfort. He wanted a job. He wanted something to do. If I tried to cuddle him, he’d just squirm out of it. If I tried to distract him with a toy, he’d chew it like he was angry at it.
So I tried one tiny thing—almost as an experiment. Not a command-heavy training session. Not a routine that needed planning. Just a small game that gave his brain something to focus on.
And it worked more than I expected.
The Pattern That Made Me Try Something Different
My dog’s anxiety wasn’t only about fear. It was about over-alertness.
He’d hear a sound and go into investigation mode. He’d scan the room. He’d pace. He’d whine softly. Sometimes he’d bark once or twice—like he was announcing that something might be happening, even if nothing was happening.
And the more I reacted to it—“it’s fine, relax”—the more he stayed in that loop. Not because he was being stubborn. Because his brain was already locked into “monitor everything” mode.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t dealing with a dog who needed motivation. I was dealing with a dog who needed a reset.
Something simple. Something that shifts the brain from alert to focused.
The Game (And Why It’s Surprisingly Effective)
The game is honestly basic: Find It.
That’s it.
Not a complex puzzle. Not a fancy trick. Just a simple sniff-and-search game that uses the dog’s strongest superpower: their nose.
But the reason it works isn’t “because sniffing is cute.”
It works because sniffing gives the brain a job. It turns nervous energy into directed energy. It makes the dog’s body slow down without you forcing them to slow down.
And that’s exactly what I needed.
How I Did It (Without Turning It Into Training School)
I kept this game tiny and repeatable. Because if it became a “whole session,” I’d stop doing it.
1) I started when he was calm, not when he was spiraling
This matters. If you introduce it only during full anxiety mode, it can feel like chaos.
So at first, I practiced it in normal moments. After breakfast. After a walk. During a quiet afternoon.
I’d show him a small treat, let him sniff it, and then toss it a few feet away where he could see it land.
Then I’d say, casually: “Find it.”
He’d walk over, eat it, and look at me like, Was that the whole game?
Yes. That was the whole game.
And then I did it again. A little farther. Slightly harder. Still easy enough that he didn’t get frustrated.
2) I kept it short—like, weirdly short
This is where people ruin it by doing too much. I didn’t do a 15-minute search mission.
I did three to five treats and stopped.
Because the goal wasn’t to tire him out. The goal was to flip the mental switch.
You want him to finish the game thinking: That was fun. I could do that again.
Not: That was exhausting and now I’m annoyed.
3) I made it harder only when he clearly “got it”
Once he understood the game, I started hiding treats where he couldn’t see them—behind a chair leg, near the curtain, beside a table.
Nothing impossible. Just enough that he had to use his nose.
The sniffing part is what slows the nervous system down. So I wanted him sniffing, not sprinting.
4) I used it as a “doorbell reset”
This was the big win.
When the doorbell rang, instead of yelling “calm down” over and over, I did this:
- get him away from the door (not in a dramatic way—just guide him)
- toss one treat and say “find it”
- toss another in the opposite direction
- keep him searching while I handled the door
It didn’t make him silent instantly. But it broke the loop.
It gave his brain a job that wasn’t “panic about the door.”
What Changed Over a Few Weeks (Quiet Improvements)
At first, I thought it was just a cute trick.
Then I noticed real changes.
1) He recovered faster after “spikes”
Before, if he got worked up, it would take forever to come down. Even after the sound stopped, he stayed tense.
With the game, he started coming down faster. Not perfect, but noticeably faster.
2) He paced less
Pacing is one of those behaviors that looks harmless until it becomes constant.
The more we used “Find It,” the less he defaulted to pacing when he didn’t know what to do with himself.
3) His body language softened
This was the biggest sign.
Less stiff posture. Less scanning. Less “on edge” energy.
Not because he became fearless—because he learned how to shift his brain out of alert mode.
4) I stopped feeling like I needed to manage him constantly
This part matters too.
When your dog is anxious, you end up living on high alert as well. It’s exhausting.
This game made me feel like I had a simple, kind tool I could use without making everything intense.
The Part That Almost Ruined It
Of course my brain tried to upgrade it.
I had the thought: Okay, let’s do this every hour. Let’s turn it into a program. Let’s add rules.
And then I remembered: the best routine is the one you actually do.
So I kept it flexible:
- I used it when he needed a reset
- I used it when the house felt tense
- I used it when I had guests
- I used it when I needed five minutes of calm
That’s it.
No schedule. No streak. No pressure.
If You Want to Try It, Here’s the Easy Version
If your dog has those everyday anxiety spikes, try this:
- start when they’re calm
- toss a treat a short distance and say “find it”
- do 3–5 treats only
- stop before they get bored
- use it during trigger moments (doorbell, guests, weird sounds)
And if your dog is food-motivated, this is ridiculously easy.
If they’re not food-motivated, you can do it with a favorite toy or even kibble—whatever they care about.
Final Verdict
This didn’t “fix” my dog’s anxiety forever.
He still gets weird about certain sounds. He still has moments where he’s too alert for no reason. That’s part of who he is.
But the “Find It” game gave us a reset button.
It turned nervous energy into focused energy. It made him feel like he had a job. And it made the house feel calmer without me constantly correcting him.
If you want one small thing that actually fits into daily life, this is a good one: a simple sniff game that teaches your dog how to come back to calm.
