by Sasha Riess | 05.04.26. | Wellbeing
In the modern world of dog care, we increasingly see how good intentions can easily slide in the wrong direction. We have more information and products than ever, yet we are exposed to a greater risk of viewing dogs through a human lens. One question that appears every winter is whether dressing dogs in jackets or boots is a necessity or another example of anthropomorphism.
Thermoregulation: How Dogs Actually Experience Cold
To speak about this responsibly, we must distinguish between appropriate support and human projection. Dogs have a fundamentally different thermoregulation system. While humans rely on sweat glands, dogs regulate temperature primarily through breathing, panting, and the complex interaction of skin and coat.
All dogs have an undercoat, a natural thermal insulation system. Fur is not a passive “coat”; it creates an air layer that protects the dog from both cold and overheating. When dressing dogs without understanding this, we risk disrupting the very system that naturally protects them.
Adaptability: The Dog as a Being of Inner Resources
The dog is one of the most adaptable animals. Its strength lies in using its own inner resources to adjust to the present moment. A dog uses neuroplasticity to optimize functioning in a specific environment. A human often says, “I am cold, so my dog must be cold,” but the dog does not interpret clothing as love. It experiences it through restricted movement, trapped moisture, or overheating.
Paws are a highly specialized structure, not bare feet.
Why Paws and Boots Are a Special Challenge
A particularly important aspect of the human dog relationship involves the paw pads. They are not “bare feet” but highly specialized anatomical structures that participate in thermoregulation, stability, and body awareness.
Pads are programmed to adapt to terrain. When we interrupt this process with boots or excessive creams, we change the biomechanical model of movement. This can influence joint alignment and weight distribution, creating patterns that resemble hip dysplasia or heel-related problems.
When Is Support for Dogs Justified?
This does not mean that dressing dogs is never justified. There are specific situations where protection is a choice based on knowledge, not subjective feeling:
-
Older dogs with reduced mobility.
-
Dogs with chronic illness.
-
Dogs with compromised or diseased coats.
Life with a Dog Is a Relationship, Not Fashion
Before deciding on clothing, it is essential to understand canine physiology and the nervous system. Many products exist because they are commercially profitable, not because they are necessary.
Life with a dog is not a matter of fashion, but of relationship and respect for natural adaptability. When we step away from anthropomorphism, we open space for genuine care and harmonious living within the human dog relationship.
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we prioritize the dog’s natural biological functions over human trends. Respecting the coat and the paws is the first step toward true harmony. Explore our approach: Linktree Sasha Riess
by Sasha Riess | 05.04.26. | Nutrition
You can safely introduce broccoli to dogs who already eat cooked food. Adding vegetables such as broccoli supports dogs nutritionally by promoting the development of natural probiotics in the gut, strengthening the immune system, and helping maintain emotional balance.
Broccoli as a Healthy, Natural Addition to Cooked Meals for Dogs
Broccoli contains sulforaphane, a powerful antioxidant known for its protective effects, including potential prevention of certain types of cancer. When adding broccoli to the human dog relationship and their daily nutrition, it is important to chop it into very small pieces, around two millimeters, so dogs can digest it easily and fully absorb its benefits.
Dogs can enjoy broccoli when it is properly prepared and finely chopped.
Broccoli as a Nutritious and Safe Snack for Dogs
Dogs can enjoy broccoli when it is properly prepared and finely chopped. This simple addition to their bowl is more than just food; it is a way to support their biological rhythm and long-term health.
Preparation and Resting Time for Optimal Nutrition
To maximize the amount of beneficial sulforaphane, finely chopped broccoli should be left to rest for about ninety minutes before being added to the meal. This ensures your dog receives an optimal nutritional boost, whether they eat kibble or cooked food. By respecting these small details in preparation, we respect the dog’s physiology and their right to a vibrant life.
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we believe that true care starts with the smallest ingredients. When we nourish the body correctly, we create space for harmony. Explore more: Linktree Sasha Riess
by Sasha Riess | 03.04.26. | Emotions
Dogs teach us that pain is not the end but a doorway into a deeper relationship with ourselves, with others, and with life. They show us how suffering as a path and pain shape our lives and our bond with a dog. We try to escape suffering as if it were the enemy, but once we acknowledge it, it transforms into a path that leads us back to love.
Dogs know this better than we do. Their eyes hold no judgment, even when it hurts.
Pain and Suffering: How They Shape the Dog and Our Relationship
Today I want to explore a word that makes most people uncomfortable: suffering. We would prefer to avoid it, hide it, push it away somewhere we cannot see it, as if that would neutralize it. But the truth is different. Suffering finds us even when we do not look for it. It sits beside us, enters our relationships, our bodies, our breath. And the more we push it away, the more tightly it holds us.
Maybe it is time to turn our gaze around. Maybe suffering as a path is not the enemy, but a road we walk not because we want to, but because it is part of life.
How Suffering Shapes the Dog Within the Order of Harmony
In the Order of Harmony, suffering has its rightful place. It is not random, not a punishment, not an unfortunate accident that “just happened.” Suffering appears when life demands that something within us stops and looks. When we run from it, it becomes louder. When we agree to face it, it begins to change.
The Dog as a Mirror: How Suffering Shapes Both Dog and Human
A dog in the home is often the first to show that suffering has entered the space between people. He does not speak our language, but he reveals it through his body and behavior. The dog does not “invent” a problem. He announces the pain that already exists. Suffering then stops being individual. It becomes relational.
Acceptance as the Beginning of Change
We often believe that we can overcome suffering through strength of will. That we can push through, endure, hold ourselves together. But will alone does not bring peace. Will becomes tired, breaks, burns out. Suffering as a path does not melt through force, but through acceptance. Acceptance does not mean approval or passivity. It means saying: “Yes, you are here. I acknowledge you.”
Once we acknowledge suffering, it no longer hides, and therefore no longer controls us from the shadows.
A dog does not invent the problem—he announces it for all of us.
How Suffering Shapes the Dog Through Family Life
In the Pure Love and Harmony philosophy, suffering is not the end of the road but a doorway. A doorway we step through to reach the inner space where love is no longer tied to expectations, but to its true essence. Through pain, love often becomes pure. A dog, who walks alongside a human through suffering, demands no justification. He simply is. And in his simple presence lies the lesson: love does not end because pain exists. On the contrary, through pain love becomes true.
Suffering Shapes the Dog Long Before We Notice It
Many people ask: “Why do dogs suffer? They do not deserve pain.” The truth is that a dog is not just an individual. He is part of a relationship, part of a family. He carries what others cannot. His suffering often becomes a mirror of our own. He reveals what we hide. When we acknowledge our own pain and the dog’s pain, suffering as a path becomes a way of connection. Not something that separates us, but something that brings us closer.
Acceptance as the Beginning of Transformation
Suffering as a path is not easy. It teaches silence. It teaches us to go beneath words and explanations, to release the need to fix everything, and simply be present. Life is not only joy and ascents, but also falls, emptiness, and extremes. In that school, the dog is the teacher. His gaze contains no judgment. When he suffers, he does not ask “Why me?” He simply walks through it.
The Third Wave: Suffering Shapes the Dog and Cannot Be Overcome by Will
In the Order of Harmony, suffering has its place. No longer hidden, no longer exiled. When we say “yes” to suffering, we open the door to peace. Because beyond pain comes silence. And in that silence, we discover that we are not alone.
This is where the Third Wave of Dog Evolution gains its full meaning. In the first wave, we viewed dogs as heroes who protect us. In the second wave, we turned them into images of our desires. In the third wave, they become our companions in harmony, in joy and in suffering. They teach us that love is not always easy, but through pain it can become authentic.
In silence, a dog reveals what we often cannot admit to ourselves.
Suffering as a Path to Harmony in Life
Suffering is not the end, but a path. A path that leads us through darkness so we can find the light. A path that teaches us that love and pain are not opposites, but two sides of the same life. Suffering can make us bitter, but once we accept it, it can make us gentle. And gentleness, in a world that constantly demands strength, may be the greatest courage of all.
By acknowledging everything that exists, both joy and pain, we create space for true harmony. And then the dog is no longer just a dog. He becomes a guide, a reminder that we are already on our path, and that only one thing remains: to say “yes to life.”
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we believe that accepting every part of the journey is the only way to reach true balance. When we acknowledge the pain, we find the harmony. Explore our philosophy: Linktree Sasha Riess
by Sasha Riess | 03.04.26. | Emotions
I once believed that rescuing dogs was the purest act of love. I watched people who fed dozens of dogs, slept among them, gave up everything for them — and I thought: this is devotion, this is goodness. But over time, after observing, listening, and questioning myself, I began to wonder: Who is really saving whom? Within the human dog relationship, is taking in one more dog into an overcrowded yard truly love — or is it my own cry for something I never received? Is it an attempt to prove my worth in a world that often failed to see me?
The Order of Love and Harmony in Rescue
I came to understand that love isn’t just emotion or impulse — it has order. Among humans it’s called The Order of Love. With dogs, it becomes The Order of Harmony. These cosmic laws never punish — they simply restore balance. Every time we cross a boundary, something is taken in return. When love exceeds its natural limits, it becomes obsession, control, compensation — disease. And I too was part of that system, believing I was doing good, unaware that every excess in rescuing dogs can consume both the rescuer and the rescued.
The Trap of the Donation System
Like many involved in rescue, I’ve seen how survival often depends on donations — heartbreaking photos, videos of wounded dogs, public calls for help. It becomes a kind of currency — the currency of survival. But this system quickly turns into a vicious circle. There’s never enough — not for the dogs already there, nor for the new mouths arriving each day. Food becomes the cheapest kibble, often expired, or cans made from scraps — what couldn’t be sold becomes “charity.” Dogs in such systems don’t live — they merely survive, stripped of dignity.
Behind every rescue post lies a daily struggle for food, health, and the survival of the dogs.
What a Dog Really Needs to Be Happy
A dog needs more than food and water. His well-being depends on safety, structure, social interaction, and love — not sentimental love, but practical, daily presence. But how can one person provide that for thirty, forty, or fifty dogs? In such conditions, a dog stops being a being. He becomes a number, a function, a projection. Unconsciously, he turns into a symbol of what we lack. When the number of dogs surpasses the depth of connection, love disappears — chaos remains.
The Message Behind Every Dog
Still, I believe each dog arrives for a reason. Even in the midst of chaos, each one carries a message — a fragment of the caretaker’s unspoken story. Over the years, I’ve met people rescuing dogs with genuine hearts and noble intentions. I once shared that belief completely. But now I see that behind every “one more dog” there is often something deeper — something not about the dogs, but about us.
The Glorification of Rescue and Its Burden
What struck me most is how society glorifies this kind of sacrifice. On social media, rescuing dogs earns applause, likes, and admiration. Young people, inspired by the idea of selfless devotion, enter this world without the tools to withstand it. I’ve watched them lose their health, their identity — sometimes even their lives. At first glance, they are heroes — people who give up peace, money, and relationships for dogs. And I wanted to be one of them. But through the Order of Harmony, I’ve learned that behind every excess lies a deficit. Behind every dog, there is often a person who has lost a piece of themselves.
The Dog as a Reflection of Our Emptiness
The principle of respect teaches us that every being has its own purpose and essence. A dog is a creature with dignity — needing space, rhythm, and clarity. When I unconsciously turn him into a symbol of my emptiness, I stop seeing him as a dog. He becomes a mirror of my need. And the dog, in his unconditional love, often accepts that role — even to his own detriment. I’ve seen people surrounded by dogs while their bodies collapse, their relationships fade, their lives revolve only around rescue. I’ve been close to that edge myself, until I stopped and asked: What am I really doing?
A dog often becomes a mirror of our internal wounds and the silences we carry within ourselves.
Who Are We Really Saving — Them or Ourselves?
Through conversations, silence, and self-reflection, I began to see: Dogs often become substitutes for something else — for love I never received, for grief I never mourned, for a part of myself I never accepted. Each dog can unconsciously become a symbol of something lost that I’m trying to reclaim. But the system always seeks balance — not as punishment, but as consequence. So I started asking myself: Whom am I really saving? What am I trying to find through one more rescue?
The Dog as a Call — Not an Answer
I realized that a dog is not the answer. A dog is a call — a call to return to order, to be present, clear, and consistent. A call to recognize the line between genuine love and the unconscious need to patch my own unrest. Only when I see the dog as a dog — not as a projection of my wounds — can I truly love him. Only then can I honor his dignity, his needs, his life.
Stopping Out of Respect
Before taking in another dog, I now pause — not out of fear, but out of respect. Maybe that dog didn’t come to stay. Maybe he came to show me what in me still needs to be seen. And perhaps, when I learn to say “enough,” I’ll finally find what I was searching for all along — peace with myself, my own wholeness. So before I rescue another dog, I ask: Am I ready to rescue myself first?
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we believe that precision in our actions is a reflection of our internal balance. When we lead with harmony, we heal the soul. Explore our philosophy: Linktree Sasha Riess
by Sasha Riess | 02.04.26. | Emotions
I used to be fully in favor of sterilization and castration in dogs—but now I ask myself: is it truly care, or fear? This isn’t just about dogs—it’s about us, and about how deeply we respect life within the human dog relationship.
My Journey: From Advocate to Questioning
When I first heard about mass sterilization and castration programs, I was convinced it was the right path. I believed it was a humane act, a responsibility toward society, a way to reduce animal suffering. I was a loud advocate—waving the flag of the “greater good.”
But today, after years of reflection, dialogue, and personal growth, I ask myself: Was it really for the dogs’ sake, or was it my own need to control something I didn’t understand—neither in them, nor in myself?
The physiological and emotional consequences of sterilization and castration
What does sterilization really do to dogs? More and more research shows these are not “simple surgeries.” When we remove a dog’s sex hormones, we don’t just eliminate reproduction—we disrupt a hormonal axis that shapes behavior, emotional stability, bone health, muscles, and the immune system.
And yet, it’s often done without deeper awareness. Is it really for them, or simply easier for us? It’s easier to live with a dog whose emotions are dulled, whose instincts don’t challenge us, whose energy doesn’t disturb our comfort. But have we truly made that dog a “better companion,” or have we turned him into something nature never intended?
The Pressure Behind a “Personal Decision”
Sterilization and castration are deeply intimate decisions—choices that permanently alter a dog’s life. They require awareness and responsibility, not slogans, pressure, or collective campaigns. It’s not a matter of activism—it’s a matter of conscience.
Understanding activism between care and sterilization and castration control
I was part of that wave. I loudly supported sterilization, believing it would solve the problem of strays and suffering. But over time, I realized that much of that activism comes from something deeper—not just care, but an unconscious urge to control, to “fix” what may not even be broken.
In the human dog relationship, this aggressive, often unknowingly violent call for sterilization and castration isn’t always rooted in understanding—but in an inner restlessness that drives us to “correct” the world, perhaps because we don’t know how to heal ourselves.
Hidden Patterns Behind the Passion
Through years of work with people, I began to notice repeating emotional patterns behind this zeal:
-
Some try to impose order over the chaos they grew up in.
-
Some were taught that love must be earned through “proper behavior,” and use sterilization as a way to prove their value to society.
-
Some unconsciously punish—themselves, others, even animals—out of unhealed pain.
-
Some carry generational trauma, fear of life, or unwanted parenthood—and project that fear onto dogs, denying them reproduction.
-
Some who were abandoned project their sorrow onto abandoned dogs, trying to save them to heal their own wounds.
-
And some are so disconnected from nature and their own bodies that they attempt to “civilize” life itself—where natural rhythm should simply be allowed.
A Ritual of Control, Not Love
These patterns made me question everything I once believed. I came to see that sterilization and castration, in many cases, are not acts of care but rituals of control—born of fear, not love. What we often call “social responsibility” can easily become institutionalized detachment from life itself. When society enforces sterilization as a universal solution, it doesn’t create order—it quietly teaches denial of instinct, vitality, and natural identity.
The larger picture of sterilization and castration and our relationship with life
This isn’t just about dogs—it’s about us. It’s about how we treat what we don’t understand, what we try to dominate instead of honor. I believed I was protecting dogs, fighting for a noble cause. But in truth, it was easier to fight for something “righteous” than to face the questions within myself. Activism gave me purpose, justification, identity.
From Inner Conflict to Inner Peace
Over time—through silence, reflection, and deep inner work—I began to change. I discovered a frightened part of myself, one that sought safety in control and conviction. That part didn’t just want to control dogs—it wanted to control the world, as a shield against inner chaos. Once I recognized that, I began to truly listen. I started to meet dogs—not as projects to “fix,” but as beings with needs, rhythm, and dignity.
Impulse vs. Calling
Then I understood the difference. Impulse comes from unrest—from the need to calm one’s own insecurity. Calling arises from peace—it listens, connects, and unites. Impulse shouts for validation. Calling whispers—it builds bridges. That awareness changed everything: how I see dogs, people, and myself.
In every dog’s run through nature, there is a pure joy of existence—a freedom that reminds us what it means to truly live.
Awareness and Education — The Real Path to Change
Sterilization will not stop violence or abandonment—it never truly has. But awareness can. Real, personal, heart-centered awareness transforms everything—because it transforms us.
So perhaps we should pause and ask: What drives us to take away from others what we haven’t yet learned to embrace in ourselves? Maybe, by denying dogs their natural wholeness, we mirror our own loss—the disconnection from what it means to truly live.
To Live Means to Feel
As long as we don’t see this, we’ll repeat the same patterns—unaware, unawake. To walk, breathe, and eat isn’t to live. To live means to feel, to choose, to have a voice. Just as a human who has learned only to endure forgets how to return to themselves, so does a dog, once stripped of its essence, lose the fullness of life.
A Call to Honor Life
So—let’s protect life. In ourselves. In dogs. In others.
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we believe that precision in nutrition and health is a reflection of our care. When we measure with love, we feed the soul. Explore our philosophy: Linktree Sasha Riess
