Taking Care of Yourself: Learned Caution

Happy Thursday, Positive Animal Caregivers! ♡🐾

"Be careful!" I was warned as my hand moved towards stroking the office Balinese dog that I had just met. "Balinese dogs don't often let a stranger pet them."

I quickly pulled my hand back.

After years in Canada, I had grown used to dogs who greet strangers with wagging tails. They spend afternoons on restaurant patios, accept pats from passers-by and assume that unfamiliar hands are likely to bring affection — or perhaps a treat.

The Balinese dogs are different. Many spend their lives guarding homes and neighbourhoods. To them, strangers represent uncertainty.

They have adapted to an environment where caution is rewarded.

People do the same.

I remember sitting in a shelter meeting in Korea as staff debated a prospective adopter.

"He says he wants a companion," someone said.

Another replied quietly, "But how do we know?"

The room fell silent.

Nobody wanted to deny a dog a loving home. Nobody wanted to send one into the dog meat trade either.

I couldn't blame them. If they were wrong, the dog would pay the price.

While the discussion continued, Roxy spent another afternoon asleep in her kennel. She did not know why nobody had chosen her. She only knew she was still waiting.

That meeting stayed with me because everyone in the room was trying to do the right thing. The risk of misplaced trust was real. But over time I began to notice another cost.

I watched shelter staff spend entire days answering audits, reconciling inventories and writing reports. None of these safeguards were unreasonable. Yet every hour spent proving integrity was an hour not spent photographing a newly rescued dog, recruiting another foster family or organizing another adoption event.

Compassion had not disappeared. It had simply been redirected.

We often think of trust as a moral virtue, but perhaps it is also a kind of infrastructure. Like roads or electricity, we only notice it when it starts to fail. Every additional check, every extra form and every new layer of verification adds a little more friction. The shelter still functions, but more slowly. The dogs wait a little longer.

I never did pet that Balinese dog.

Looking back, I don't think he was unfriendly. He had simply learned that caution was safer than trust.

Shelters can learn the same lesson. The tragedy is that every layer of caution carries its own cost. It arrives quietly: another meeting, another check, another home visit, another dog waiting another day for someone to say yes.

Small acts of care often look ordinary until someone pauses long enough to notice them. This week, a few things worth noticing:

If you have a win worth sharing — your own or someone else’s — reply to this email. I’d love to hear about it.

Mark your calendars for these upcoming opportunities to connect with others:

I’m still experimenting with the shape of this newsletter.

If something resonated — or if something you enjoyed is missing — hit reply and let me know.

Know someone who might enjoy this corner of the internet? You can refer a friend here.

Want to help me keep this community going? Sponsor this newsletter by buying me a coffee.

Thanks for spending part of your day with me and the rest of the Positive Animal Caregivers Club. Take care of yourself this week. Remember - even superheroes need naps. 

– Philip