When Izzy first came to us, I would have been thrilled if she had simply acknowledged my presence.
Not a bond. Not a breakthrough. Just — evidence that I existed somewhere inside what I like to call her realm of possibilities.
Her nervous system carried the message that many rescue dogs arrive with:
“I only have myself to depend on. I can’t count on anyone else.”
Getting her to engage with me at all was surprisingly difficult. Working together, playing together — even simple eye contact didn’t come naturally to her at first.
So I started doing something very simple.
At the time Izzy was around ten months to a year old, and because we were still figuring out what foods worked for her, she was getting a small lunch in the middle of the day. Instead of just giving it to her in a bowl, I started taking that lunch outside with us.
We would sit together in the backyard. Nothing structured. Just sitting.
There were birds to watch, breezes moving through the yard, interesting smells in the air. Enough to keep her curious — but not overwhelmed.
I would hold a small piece of food out to my side. Her attention would land on the cookie, of course. And then I would simply wait.
Sometimes she would watch the birds. Sometimes she would sniff the breeze. And occasionally — very briefly — her eyes would flick in my direction.
Just a tiny glance. Almost so fast you could miss it.
But the moment it happened, I would quietly mark it.
“Good.” Or “Yes.” And then she would get the piece of food.
At first those glances were a millisecond, really. But over time she began to realize something: looking toward me mattered. It led to something good.
So she started checking in more often.
Eventually I would wait a beat before marking it — almost like gently asking her, without words, if she wanted to stay in that moment just a little longer.
And slowly, over days and weeks, those moments of eye contact began lasting longer. At the time, it didn’t feel like much. But looking back, that’s where everything started changing.
I never added a cue. I never asked her to “look at me.” I wanted it to be her choice. Her decision to check in.
Because the connection I hoped we’d eventually have wasn’t about me constantly directing her attention. I didn’t want to feel that I had to constantly police her every movement.
I wanted her to feel safe enough that she would naturally come up for air from all her sniffing and think: “Hey… where’s my person?”
🌿 What Connection Actually Looks Like (Not What Instagram Shows)
If you scroll through social media, connection with a dog looks very dramatic.
Dogs walking perfectly beside their person. Dogs responding instantly to cues. Dogs sitting calmly in busy cafés while the world moves around them.
But for many rescue dog parents — especially in the early stages — the experience feels almost like the opposite.
Your dog barely notices you. They’re focused on the environment. Sniffing. Watching everything around them.
And you may quietly wonder: how do we actually build connection from here?
Real connection with a rescue dog usually doesn’t begin with dramatic moments.
It begins with something much quieter.
Your dog glancing toward you during a walk. A softer body when they lie down nearby. The way they begin checking in with you before reacting to something in the distance.
These moments can be incredibly subtle. — And because they’re so subtle, it’s easy to miss them—or to think they don’t count. Especially if we’ve been taught that success with a dog means visible control or perfect obedience.
But from a nervous system perspective, those small check-ins mean something much deeper than behavior.
They signal the beginning of trust.
🌊 The Difference Between Trust and Performance
Performance is something we can usually see very clearly.
Trust often grows quietly underneath the surface.
It’s the pause before reacting. The glance back. The moment your dog chooses to stay close instead of moving farther away.
These signals may look small. But they often represent a nervous system that is beginning to feel safer.
And safety is the foundation that all other learning eventually builds on.
In the Healing Together™ approach, when we talk about connection, we’re not talking about performance. We’re talking about something happening inside the relationship — a sense that two nervous systems are beginning to organize around each other in a calmer, safer way.
That kind of connection rarely looks dramatic.
But it’s the kind that actually lasts.
🌱 Redefining What Success Actually Looks Like
Sometimes building real connection asks us to redefine what we’re even looking for.
Success might not mean a perfectly calm walk. It might mean your dog recovering more quickly after noticing something exciting.
Success might mean your dog choosing to stay with you instead of pulling toward something in the distance. Or simply sharing a quiet moment where both of you feel relaxed in the same space.
These moments don’t usually look impressive in a highlight reel.
But they’re often where the real relationship is growing.
Connection with a rescue dog grows through shared experiences, predictable rhythms, and many small moments where safety slowly becomes familiar.
💛 The Quiet Moments Worth Noticing
If you’re walking this path with a rescue dog right now, you might try noticing the smaller moments.
The tiny glance. The subtle softening. The times your dog includes you in their awareness of the world — even briefly.
Those moments may not look dramatic.
But they’re often where connection is quietly taking root.
Connection with a rescue dog rarely arrives all at once. It grows through shared experiences, predictable rhythms, and many small moments where safety slowly becomes familiar.
Over time, those moments begin weaving together into something deeper.
Not performance. Not perfection.
But relationship.
And when that relationship begins to feel safe for both nervous systems, connection becomes something that grows all on its own.
✨ A Next Step, If You Need One
If you’re in those early stages of building connection—and wondering if those small moments actually count— they probably do. You might just need a clearer sense of where you and your dog are in the journey and what to focus on right now.
The Find Your Path quiz can help with exactly that. A few minutes, and you’ll have a much clearer picture of where you are and what your next step actually looks like.
Take care of your dog’s nervous system — and your own.
We’re healing together, one regulated moment at a time. 💛