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

Ezra sometimes stares at us for a long time. Just like that. He lies there, relaxed, and looks – calmly, deeply, without blinking. No barking, no wagging, no nudging. Just that gaze that can hold you like no human gaze ever could.
What do you think in that moment? He wants something. He's 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's doing 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 misread 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 mood 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 a study. My grandma. She hadn't been to university. She had simply observed – her whole life. And she was right. But I'll get to that at the end.

The biggest misunderstanding – the guilty-looking dog

We all know this moment. You come home, immediately see that something has happened – the flowerpot is overturned, the couch has a new texture, something smells strange. And the dog looks at you with that look. Ears lowered. Big eyes. Body slightly tucked in, 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 of 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 posture. They don't react to their action. They react 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" punishes him for something he has long forgotten. The dog no longer understands the connection between action and consequence – he only understands: When mom looks like that, something unpleasant happens. Next time he will look even guiltier. 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. He barely moves. He doesn't really sleep, eats little, is simply absent in a way that makes your heart heavy. And sometimes he lies in the hallway. By Andreas' shoes. He just lies down next to 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 grief 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 brain's fear and emotion center – associated with an increase in cortisol and adrenaline.
And the shoes? That's perhaps the most touching thing of all. Scent is to dogs what photos are to us – a direct, immediate connection to someone who isn't there. Andreas' shoes smell like Andreas. Ezra doesn't lie down next to them because he has stopped functioning – but because he is seeking the closeness he cannot have right now. He comforts himself. With the only thing he has: the scent of the person he loves.
It's so deep 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.
In 2015, Miho Nagasawa and his team from Azabu University in Japan demonstrated 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 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 develops between mother and child when they look into each other's eyes for the first time – it also develops between dog and human. In that long, calm gaze.
Ezra stares at us – and actively and intensely loves us. With biochemistry. With hormones. With his whole body. 🧡

Here Ezra is already in the bus, although we took out his crate to clean it. He's 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. 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's not scientifically correct. But it's astonishingly close to the truth poetically.
What really happens: 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 engaged them emotionally or physically.
It's not rejection. It's 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're stressed, their cortisol levels rise. When we're anxious, they become more restless. They mirror us – not metaphorically, but biochemically real.
So if you're petting with a lot of excited energy, Ezra actually absorbs that energy – and the shake afterward might really be a little 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's shaking 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, emotions too complex, the connection between animal and human too heavily influenced 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 is true for dogs – even when they just smell their owner. Gregory Berns was able to prove this in 2017 using fMRI films.
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 conscious thought.
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. Measurable.

8 things we almost always misread in dogs

1. "He looks guilty, therefore he feels guilty" → He's afraid
No guilt, no remorse, no understanding of past misbehavior. An appeasement reaction to our body language – not to the act 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's seeking closeness through scent
Scent is the most direct way 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 after petting – he wants to shake me off" → He's doing a reset
Shaking is a natural reset signal after an intense interaction. Not a 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 will.
7. "He's wagging his tail – so he's happy" → Not always
A wagging tail indicates arousal, 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 is largely refuted in modern behavioral research. What is interpreted as dominance is usually stress, fear, or lack of guidance.

Reading body language – the most important signals

Dogs are constantly talking. 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're silent – the problem is that we haven't learned to listen.

Appeasement signals – the dog is trying to reduce tension:

Looking away or turning his head
Licking his nose for no apparent reason
Yawning even though he's not tired
Shaking after an encounter or interaction
Slowing down, almost freezing
Sniffing the ground even though 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 cold
Hairs bristling along the back
The whites of the eyes become visible

Relaxation signals – the dog feels safe and comfortable:

Soft, relaxed eyes
Loose, gently wagging tail
Relaxed ears
Voluntarily lying on his back – the most vulnerable position
Seeking proximity 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 mood 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're 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 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. My grandmother didn't have to read a study. She just watched – her whole life.

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 away, when he lies by the wall or by the shoes – that's not just emotional. His cortisol levels rise. 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 overall 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 be thrown off balance by stress, and relieves the liver and kidneys, which have to work harder during stressful periods.
If Ezra has had a difficult day – master gone, a lot of hustle and bustle, unfamiliar situation – he gets his zeolite. Not because something is wrong. But because care is sometimes very quiet. A pinch in his 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 often frighteningly resemble 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.
A dog that looks "guilty" doesn't need punishment. He needs security.
A dog that is "stubborn" doesn't need harshness. He needs clarity.
A dog lying by the wall doesn't need distraction. He needs time.
A dog that shakes doesn't need correction. He needs understanding.
A dog that stares at us doesn't need boundaries. He needs our gaze back.
That sounds simple. Sometimes it's not. But the first step is always the same: wanting to understand what the other person is really saying. Not what we think they're 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 dogs and humans – my grandmother knew it all along. 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's always a good mood in the house.
Psychology calls it co-regulation. Tradition calls it energy transformation. Perhaps both are talking about the same thing – with 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's chasing in his dreams. The rabbit. The ball. Whatever dogs dream.
The mood in the house is good.
Grandma was right. 🧡🐾

 

Read more:

👉 Getting a dog – what no one tells you beforehand 👉 What we can learn from dogs 👉 Dogs in the city – Ezra & the escalator 👉 Zeolite for dogs – effect, application & experiences

Read more:

🔗 🐕 Effect, application, experience - Overview & guide to zeolite for dogs
🔗 🐕 Dosage and application of Steinkraft Zeolite in dogs. A guide for dog lovers.
🔗 Questions about zeolite and their answers on our FAQ page
🔗 What is zeolite? – Origin, effect & why quality is crucial
🔗 About us - This is Steinkraft Zeolite