Dear England. Dear Dog Lover.
Why your dog's behaviour problems might have nothing to do with training.
Last night I finished watching 'Dear England' on BBC iplayer.
WOW.
I’m a sucker for all things World Cup - and it didn't disappoint.
But it wasn't really about football. (So don't swipe away here, my American friends).
It was about what happens when the weight of everyone else's expectations gets inside your head — and what it costs you to carry it.
If you haven't seen it: Gareth Southgate takes over the England men's team.
A squad of incredible players, completely buried under the dream of what English football should be. Over the decades, fans have taken off work, traveled continents,and painted their faces, only to watch crushing defeats, near misses and (the dreaded) exit on penalties.
Their passion had nothing to do with how good the team actually was.
The expectations weren't just high. They were unrealistic.
And (of course) I couldn't stop thinking about our dogs — and how so many dog behaviour problems start with us... not them.
Southgate knew it wasn't a skills problem.
He brought in a psychologist — Pippa Grange — and what they built together wasn't a new training programme - no new drills or tactics.
It was SAFETY.
An environment of safety. To feel fear without it meaning something was wrong with you. To show up as yourself — free, uncertain, real— and trust that version was actually enough to work with.
The England players had been carrying the whole nation’s grief. The weight of 1966. The ghost of every penalty that hit the post.
None of it was theirs to carry.
Now.
Think about your dog.
Think about the version that lives in your head — the one that should be good with strangers, should love every dog it meets, should cope in any situation, should just get it by now.
Where did that version come from?
Because it didn't come from your dog.
It came from the neighbour's Labrador. From Instagram. From what you pictured when you said yes to bringing one home.
We gave our dogs a role they never auditioned for. And then called it a behaviour problem when they couldn't play it.
This is the heart of the Accept step in the DIAL Method® — and honestly, it might be the hardest one.
Not because it's complicated. Because it means letting something go.
Accept means seeing your actual dog.
Not the one you hoped for.
Not the one you're constantly trying to fix.
The dog right in front of you — with their history, their wiring, their unique self.
Your dog.
Southgate didn't try to turn his players into a different team. He created conditions where those players — those unique, brilliant, complicated humans — could finally breathe.
And… they nearly won the Euros. Twice.
Here's what I've seen over and over: the behaviour you're fighting is almost never the real problem.
The real problem is the gap between who your dog is and who you need them to be.
It's up to us to close it — not by pushing our dogs harder, but by considering what we're asking for — and something shifts.
Same dog. New expectations. Whole different way of living together.
I keep coming back to that dressing room. Southgate asking his players to put down a weight that was never theirs. To just be FREE.
That's what Accept asks of us too.
To look past a standard they never set for themselves. To see who they actually are — and decide that's worth working with.
It is.
P.S. If you're reading from the States — look up Gregg Popovich.
The San Antonio Spurs coach who built one of the most successful NBA dynasties in history on exactly the same principle. Psychological safety, care out loud, see your players as humans first. I just heard Brené Brown talking about him on her Curiosity Shop podcast (with Adam Grant) just this morning. Check it out.
Want to see your dog the way Southgate learned to see his players?
Start with the DIAL Method® — 40 minutes that changes how you look at everything.
