What dogs really feel - and why we so often misinterpret it

Ezra sometimes stares at us for a very long time. Just like that. He lies there, relaxed, and gazes – calmly, deeply, without blinking. No barking, no tail wagging, no nudging. Just that look that can hold you like no human gaze ever could.
What do you think in that moment? He wants something. He's being cheeky. He's challenging me. He's dominating me.
No. None of that.
With that look, Ezra is saying something much simpler and much deeper at the same time. He's saying: You are my world. Right now. In this moment. And he does it with the only means available to him – his eyes.
That's not defiance. That's love. Measurable, demonstrable, biologically real. And we almost always misinterpret it.
My grandmother always told us something as children that I didn't quite understand back then: A house needs animals. Actually, the people in the house do. Because animals absorb their owners' negative energies and transform them into positive ones. And then there's always a good atmosphere in the house. I told my osteopath about it and he couldn't stop laughing. "Then the pig farmer next to me must have a lot of positive energy..."
She hadn't read any studies. My grandma. She hadn't attended university. She had simply observed – for a lifetime. And she was right. But I'll get to that at the end.

The biggest misunderstanding – the guilty-looking dog

We all know that moment. You come home, immediately see that something has happened – the flowerpot is knocked over, the couch has a new texture, something smells strange. And the dog looks at you with that look. Dropped ears. Big eyes. Body slightly hunched, almost as if he wants to make himself smaller.
We think: He knows what he did. He's ashamed. He's guilty.
He's not.
Alexandra Horowitz from Barnard College at Columbia University investigated exactly this – and the result was clear and surprising to many: Dogs show this "guilty look" even when they haven't done anything – as long as the human enters the room with the appropriate tone and body language. They are not reacting to their deed. They are reacting to us. To our tension, our body language, the way we open the door, the tone of our voice even before we've said a word.
Researchers at the University of Lincoln put it even more precisely: The guilty look is an appeasement or fear reaction. The dog isn't saying: I know I did something wrong. He's saying: I sense you're about to get angry. Please don't be angry with me.
This is one of the most common and consequential misunderstandings in the dog-human relationship. Anyone who believes their dog "knows better" is punishing them for something they have long forgotten. The dog no longer understands the connection between action and consequence – he only understands: When mom looks like that, something unpleasant is about to happen. Next time he looks even more guilty. And we interpret it even more incorrectly. A cycle that helps no one – not us, not the dog.

The long gaze – what Ezra is really telling us

When Andreas is away – and he sometimes travels to Istanbul, not just Tyrol – Ezra lies by the wall for half a day. Barely moves. Doesn't sleep properly, eats little, is simply absent in a way that breaks your heart. And sometimes he lies down in the hallway. Next to Andreas' shoes. Just lies down with them and stays – still, quiet, waiting. With a shoe in his mouth.
The first time, it almost made me cry. The second time too.
What's happening there? Separation anxiety? Dramatic? In need of treatment?
No. That's grief. Real, deep, biologically verifiable grief – the same kind we humans feel when someone we love isn't there. Dogs have the same brain structures for emotional processing as we do. The absence of a primary caregiver triggers a measurable stress response in the amygdala – the fear and emotion center in the brain – accompanied by an increase in cortisol and adrenaline.
And the shoes? That's perhaps the most touching part of all. Smell is to dogs what photos are to us – a direct, immediate connection to someone who isn't there. Andreas' shoes smell of Andreas. Ezra lies down with them not because he has stopped functioning – but because he seeks the closeness he cannot have at that moment. He comforts himself. With the only thing he has: the scent of the person he loves.
This is so profound and so honest that words fail you.
And then – when the long gaze comes. When Ezra just looks at us, for minutes, calmly, without moving – then we know now: That's not defiance. That's the opposite of it.
Miho Nagasawa and his team from Azabu University in Japan demonstrated in 2015 in the renowned journal Science that mere eye contact between dog and human is enough to stimulate the production of the bonding hormone oxytocin in both. The longer the dog and human look at each other, the more oxytocin is released in both – a self-reinforcing interaction that Nagasawa describes as an "oxytocin-gaze positive loop."
The same bond that forms between mother and child when they first look into each other's eyes – it also forms between dog and human. In that long, calm gaze.
Ezra stares at us – and actively and intensely loves us in return. With biochemistry. With hormones. With his whole body. 🧡

Here Ezra is already in the bus, even though we took out his crate for cleaning. He is definitely coming along. And doesn't want to miss anything. He's already getting in. 🧡

Why he shakes when I pet him – and what it really means

I pet Ezra. He enjoys it – I can feel it. And then, when I stop, he shakes himself. Once, vigorously, from nose to tail tip.
My first thought was: He wants to shake off my energy. He's shaking me off.
As a psychologist, I have to be honest: That is not scientifically correct. But it is poetically astonishingly close to the truth.
What really happens: The shaking is a classic appeasement and reset signal. The dog literally shakes off an interaction to return to his neutral baseline state. Like we humans sometimes shrug our shoulders after an intense conversation, or take a deep breath after an encounter that moved us. It means: The interaction was intense enough to require a reset. Now I'm myself again. Grounded. Moving on.
Dogs do this after being petted, after encounters with other dogs, after the vet, after training, after anything that has emotionally or physically occupied them.
It is not a rejection. It is a return to oneself.
And yet – and this is what's fascinating – your intuition isn't entirely wrong. Because studies show that dogs actually physically absorb our emotional states. When we are stressed, their cortisol levels rise. When we are anxious, they become more restless. They mirror us – not metaphorically, but biochemically real.
So if you pet with a lot of excited energy, Ezra actually absorbs this energy – and the shaking afterward might really be a small reset ritual. Your breath, your tension, your thoughts – he feels them all. And then he shakes them off.
Scientifically speaking: co-regulation and stress synchronization.
Poetically speaking: He shakes off your energy.
Perhaps both say the same thing. 🐾

What dogs really feel – what science knows today

For a long time, science simply denied animals feelings. The brain was too primitive, the emotions too complex, the connection between animal and human too much shaped by human projection. That has fundamentally changed.
Gregory Berns, a neurologist at Emory University in Atlanta, did something unusual: He trained dogs to lie calmly in an MRI scanner – without anesthesia, voluntarily – and then observed their brains at work. What he saw was astonishing. The reward center in the dog's brain – the caudate nucleus – responds to praise and affection just like it does to food. Sometimes even more strongly. Berns concluded: Dogs love us at least as much as their favorite food. Perhaps more.
When a human sees their dog, the same brain regions become active as when looking at their own children. The same applies to dogs – and that's just by smelling their owner. Gregory Berns was able to prove this in 2017 with fMRI scans.
And then there's stress synchronization: If we are chronically stressed, our dog's cortisol levels often rise too. Dogs mirror our emotional states – not because they want to, but because they are built that way. 40,000 years of shared evolution have created a creature that reads us like no other.
This means: Ezra feels it when I'm stressed. Not because he thinks or analyzes it – but because his body reacts to mine. Automatically. Directly. Without detour through the mind.
And vice versa: If I'm calm, he's calmer. If I'm relaxed, he relaxes too. We are not separate beings living coincidentally next to each other – we are emotionally connected. Biologically. Measurably.

8 things we almost always misinterpret about dogs

1. "He looks guilty, so he feels guilty" → He's afraid
No guilt, no remorse, no recognition of past wrongdoing. An appeasement reaction to our body language – not to the deed itself. (Horowitz, Barnard College 2009)
2. "He's staring at me – he's being cheeky" → He's actively loving you right now
Long, calm eye contact releases oxytocin in both – dog and human. The longer the gaze, the stronger the bond. (Nagasawa et al., Science 2015)
3. "He's lying by the wall – he's bored" → He misses someone
Withdrawal, immobility, and loss of appetite are signs of emotional processing. Dogs grieve – silently, deeply, and genuinely.
4. "He's lying by my shoes – he's strange" → He seeks closeness through scent
Scent is the most direct means for dogs to connect with someone who isn't there. This isn't strange behavior – it's comfort in the only way available to him. He's essentially looking at a photo.
5. "He shakes himself after petting – he wants to shake me off" → He's doing a reset
Shaking is a natural reset signal after an intense interaction. Not rejection – a return to himself.
6. "He's stubborn" → He's overwhelmed or doesn't understand us
Dogs naturally want to cooperate. If they don't, it's almost always due to communication – not unwillingness.
7. "He's wagging his tail – so he's happy" → Not always
A wagging tail indicates excitement, not necessarily joy. Context always matters – body posture, gaze, and ear position say more than the tail alone.
8. "He's dominating me" → He's stressed or insecure
The dominance concept has been largely refuted in modern behavioral research. What is interpreted as dominance is usually stress, fear, or a lack of guidance.

Reading body language – the most important signals

Dogs communicate constantly. With their bodies, with their ears, with their tails, with their eyes, with the way they stand or lie. The problem isn't that they are silent – the problem is that we haven't learned to listen.

Appeasement signals – the dog is trying to reduce tension:

Looking away or turning the head
Licking the nose for no apparent reason
Yawning even if not tired
Shaking after an encounter or interaction
Slowing down, almost freezing
Sniffing the ground even if there's nothing interesting there

Stress signals – the dog is overwhelmed or anxious:

Panting without heat or exertion
Ears flattened
Tail tucked or very stiff
Trembling without being cold
Hair bristling along the back
The whites of the eyes become visible

Relaxation signals – the dog feels safe and comfortable:

Soft, relaxed eyes
Loosely hanging or gently wagging tail
Relaxed ears
Voluntarily lying on their back – the most vulnerable position
Seeking closeness without excitement or demand

Does my dog absorb my energy – and what does science say about it?

My grandmother always told us as children: A house needs animals. Actually, the people in the house do. Because animals absorb their owners' negative energies and transform them into positive ones. And then there's always a good atmosphere in the house.
I was a psychology student when I first truly heard that – and my first impulse was: That's not scientifically verifiable.
Today I think: She was right. Just in different words.
What science shows is astonishingly close to what my grandmother felt:
Dogs literally physically absorb our emotions. When we are stressed, their cortisol levels rise. They mirror our tension, our fear, our restlessness – biochemically, measurably, real. They absorb our "negative energy" – not metaphorically, but physiologically.
And then – and this is the crucial part – they give us something back through their mere presence. Petting a dog demonstrably lowers blood pressure and cortisol and increases oxytocin. A dog in the room reduces stress in humans – even without touch. Simply through its breath, its calmness, its warmth.
Psychology calls it co-regulation – the ability of one being to influence and stabilize the emotional state of another. My grandmother's tradition calls it energy conversion. Perhaps both speak of the same thing – with different words.
And perhaps the wisdom passed down from generation to generation is sometimes the shortest path to truth. My grandmother didn't have to read a study. She had simply observed – for a lifetime.

What zeolite has to do with it – when the body carries what the soul feels

Stress is not just a feeling. Stress is biochemistry. When Ezra grieves because Andreas is gone, when he lies by the wall or near the shoes – that's not just emotional. His cortisol level rises. His body is working. His digestion reacts.
Studies show that chronic stress can permanently increase dogs' cortisol levels – with real biological consequences for the immune system, digestion, and general well-being.
Zeolite helps in precisely these moments – not as a miracle cure, but as quiet daily support. It binds metabolic products that arise during tension, stabilizes the intestinal flora which is the first to get out of balance under stress, and relieves the liver and kidneys, which have to work harder during stressful phases.
If Ezra has had a difficult day – owner gone, a lot of hustle and bustle, an unfamiliar situation – he gets his zeolite. Not because something is wrong. But because care is sometimes very quiet. A pinch in the food. Simple. Daily. For him. 🐾

What my psychologist's eye observes

I work with people. And I observe something that always touches me: The misunderstandings between dogs and humans are frighteningly often similar to the misunderstandings between people.
We project. We interpret the behavior of others through our own lens, our own history, our own expectations. We assume that the other person feels and thinks the same way we do – and in doing so, we forget to listen. Or, in this case: to look closely.
A dog that looks "guilty" doesn't need punishment. It needs security.
A dog that is "stubborn" doesn't need harshness. It needs clarity.
A dog lying by the wall doesn't need distraction. It needs time.
A dog that shakes doesn't need correction. It needs understanding.
A dog that stares at us doesn't need boundaries. It needs our gaze in return.
That sounds simple. Sometimes it isn't. But the first step is always the same: wanting to understand what the other person is really saying. Not what we believe they are saying.
Ezra is looking at me right now. That long, calm gaze.
I look back. And I know: He's not saying I want something. He's not saying I'm challenging you.
He's saying: I see you. You are my world. Right now. 🧡

And in the end – Grandma was right

What Miho Nagasawa published in Science in 2015, what Gregory Berns demonstrated in an MRI, what stress research shows about cortisol synchronization between dog and human – my grandmother already knew it. Not because she measured it. But because she lived it.
A house needs animals. The people in the house need animals. Because animals absorb negative energies and transform them into positive ones. And then there is always a good atmosphere in the house.
Psychology calls it co-regulation. Tradition calls it energy transformation. Perhaps both are talking about the same thing – in different words. And perhaps the wisdom passed down from generation to generation is sometimes the shortest path to truth.
Ezra is lying next to me now as I write this. He is breathing calmly. His paws twitch slightly – he is hunting in his dream. The rabbit. The ball. Whatever dogs dream of.
The atmosphere in the house is good.
Grandma was right. 🧡🐾

 

Read more:

👉 A dog moves in – what no one tells you beforehand 👉 What we can learn from dogs 👉 Dog in the city – Ezra & the escalator 👉 Zeolite for dogs – effects, application & experiences