If you’ve ever owned a dog—or even just spent time around one—you’ve probably heard or uttered the phrase “bad dog.” Maybe it was when your pup chewed your shoes, growled at a stranger, jumped on a guest, or begged for a piece of your sandwich. We often frame such actions as “misbehavior,” assuming the dog has violated some moral or social code. But what if we’ve got the whole concept backward?
The language we use to describe dog behavior needs some thoughtful scrutiny. The term misbehavior, so casually tossed around, isn’t a neutral descriptor of canine conduct; it’s a subjective label, deeply steeped in human assumptions and moral frameworks. It reflects less about the dog’s actual needs, instincts, or emotional state, and more about our own expectations—many of which are confused, unrealistic, and untethered from the science of canine behavior.
“Misbehavior” Is a Human Judgment, Not a Canine Truth
One striking example comes from a New York Times article from last May, reporting on Governor Kristi Noem’s claim that President Biden’s dog should be euthanized after biting incidents. The article, while trying to present a balanced view, included this sentence: “In a 2021 study of nearly 1,000 dogs exhibiting aggressive behavior, researchers found that 15 percent had an underlying medical condition that might have contributed to the misbehavior.”
Even the New York Times, a publication with enormous editorial oversight, fell into the trap of moralizing a dog’s behavior by labeling aggression as misbehavior. But aggression isn’t bad. It isn’t immoral. It isn’t even surprising. Aggression is a behavior—often a necessary one—driven by context, fear, pain, confusion, or overstimulation. When a dog “lashes out,” she is communicating something important: “I’m scared,” “I’m in pain,” or “I don’t like this.” Framing that response as misbehavior is like scolding someone for screaming when burned.
The moral overlay we place on a dog’s actions obscures what the dog is actually trying to tell us. It positions the human as morally upright and the dog as morally flawed—and, ultimately, it blocks us from understanding and responding compassionately.
Who Decides What Counts as “Good” Behavior?
As the longtime human companion of Bella, a charming, self-possessed, and highly opinionated dog, I’ve experienced a fair share of what a typical training manual might label “bad behavior.” Bella asks me to share my food. She decides whether she wants to go on a walk. She doesn’t let unfamiliar people touch her, and will lift her lip at them if they reach hand toward her head. To some people, that makes her a “bad dog.” To me, it makes her a dog—with boundaries, preferences, and a personality shaped by her experiences.
A particularly judgmental (and non-dog-owning) friend once scolded me after I told her that Bella will snap at me if I physically push her in a direction she doesn’t want to go. “I can’t believe you let her do that!” she scolded me. This wasn’t just an unsolicited comment on my training style. It was a critique laden with cultural assumptions about what a “good dog” should be and what a “responsible owner” should allow.
The implication is that dogs are only “good” if they are quiet, compliant, and unobtrusive. But who decided that dogs should go wherever we say? That they belong on the floor and not the couch? That having an opinion is “naughty”? That they should never ask for food? That they should never express discomfort? These are not universal truths; they are human conventions, often modeled on outdated notions of dominance and control.
Rewriting the Script on “Begging” and “Stealing”
One of the most common complaints about dogs is that they “beg” for food. But if we’re being honest, this is a behavior humans have encouraged—consciously or not—for thousands of years. The early partnership between dogs and humans likely formed around the shared exchange of food: dogs hung around our campsites, and we tossed them scraps. This wasn’t misbehavior; it was survival and cooperation.
I’ll admit: I like sharing food with Bella. I know it’s not the best practice for everyone, and yes, it does encourage begging. But it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I find her food solicitation endearing. If I didn’t want her to ask, I’d simply stop reinforcing the behavior, and she’d eventually stop asking. It’s not a question of right or wrong; it’s a negotiation, one that reflects the specifics of our relationship.
Even the word begging is morally loaded. It suggests desperation, manipulation, or an overstepping of boundaries. We might just as easily describe it as “asking” or “hoping” or “reminding.” And what about when a dog snags a loaf of bread off the counter? That’s not stealing in any moral sense. It’s opportunistic foraging, a completely natural behavior. If I leave food where Bella can reach it, she’s not being bad by taking it, she’s just being a dog.
No Such Thing as a Bad Dog
The phrases “bad dog” and “bad behavior” are so deeply embedded in our language that we hardly notice the damage they do. But we should. Because every time we frame a dog’s behavior in moral terms, we reduce a complex, context-driven, emotional response to a simple failing. We fail to meet the dog where she is.
There are no bad dogs. There are only dogs doing their best to navigate a world they didn’t design, living in homes built for humans, expected to conform to rules they didn’t agree to. There are no bad behaviors, only behaviors that make sense from a dog’s point of view, even if they’re inconvenient or alarming to us.
Dogs are emotional, social, intelligent beings whose behaviors emerge from a mix of instinct, learning, environment, and history. When we stop viewing their actions through a human moral lens and start seeing them through a behavioral and relational one, we not only become better dog guardians; we become more compassionate ones.
So the next time you catch yourself saying, “She’s being naughty,” pause. Ask yourself: Is she really? Or is she just being a dog, asking for something, setting a boundary, or expressing a need in the only way she knows how?
Maybe it’s time to retire the language of bad dogs and misbehavior—and start speaking the language of understanding instead.