Can Dogs Get the Winter Blues, or Are We Just Projecting Our Own Misery?

Can Dogs Get the Winter Blues, or Are We Just Projecting Our Own Misery?

It's dark, it's wet, nobody wants to go outside, and the dog is suddenly being accused of having an attitude problem. But what if winter affects our dogs more than we realise? And how much of what we think we're seeing is actually a reflection of how we're feeling ourselves?

It's that time of year again.

The sun disappears at what feels like lunchtime, the rain arrives horizontally, and leaving the house requires the sort of risk assessment normally associated with crossing a battlefield.

For some of us, winter affects more than our wardrobe choices. Our sleep, mood and motivation can take a hit. We might not want to go out, do anything indoors or, frankly, engage with civilisation until April.

But what about our dogs?

Could the changing seasons affect their emotional wellbeing too? And if we're feeling like a damp sock with responsibilities, how much of that do we assume they're feeling as well?

It's an interesting question. Particularly because I have to ask myself whether I'm interpreting my dogs' behaviour through my own experiences.

I don't have a definitive answer. That's precisely why I think it's worth exploring.

First, a little personal honesty

I know I'm affected by the changing seasons.

My sleep isn't great at the best of times. I tend to sleep for relatively short periods, initially very deeply, but I'm easily woken once that initial deep sleep has passed.

And when winter arrives, my motivation to do things takes a hit. I don't particularly want to do anything indoors, and I don't particularly want to do anything outdoors either.

It's not simply a case of looking out of the window, seeing the rain and deciding that the sofa is a better option. It's more a general lack of inclination to do much at all.

I mention this because it got me thinking about my dogs.

If I know that the changing seasons affect how I feel, is it possible that I'm interpreting their behaviour through that experience? When they seem quieter, less enthusiastic or less interested in doing things, am I recognising something in them, or am I assuming they feel the way I do?

It's a fair question.

I'm not a mind reader. I'm a bloke trying to interpret the behaviour of animals who can't exactly fill in a questionnaire about their emotional wellbeing.

And before anyone suggests I ask them, I've tried. They're not particularly forthcoming, although one of them did look at me as if I'd asked a stupid question.

Perhaps that's my answer.

Or perhaps I'm projecting again.

Can dogs actually get seasonal affective disorder?

Let's separate what we know from what we suspect.

Seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, is a recognised condition in humans. Seasonal changes can affect our mood, sleep, energy and motivation.

Dogs also have biological rhythms, respond to their environment and experience changes in their daily routines as the seasons change.

However, we don't currently have strong evidence establishing that dogs experience SAD in the same way humans do. It isn't an established veterinary diagnosis.

So, no, we can't diagnose your Labrador because he's spent the afternoon asleep and looked mildly offended when you suggested a walk. That's just being a Labrador on a Tuesday.

But the fact that we can't confidently call it SAD doesn't mean seasonal changes have no effect on dogs.

There's a difference between admitting we don't know everything and deciding there's nothing worth investigating.

I'm not suggesting we start handing out miniature diagnoses to every dog who looks fed up with November. I'm suggesting we pay attention to the individual dog rather than assuming we already understand what we're seeing.

After all, if a dog's behaviour changes, shouldn't we be asking what might be contributing to that change?

Is your dog being lazy, or has their world changed?

Think about what happens when summer ends.

During the warmer months, we might get up early for a walk, spend time outside in the evening, meet friends and their dogs, or leave the back door open while we get on with things.

Then winter arrives.

We go to work in the dark and return home in the dark. Walks become shorter or less frequent. Rain makes the garden less appealing. Outdoor activities disappear, and our dogs may spend considerably more time indoors.

Some dogs barely notice. Others may find the changes frustrating or unsettling.

A dog who normally enjoys exploring might have fewer opportunities to sniff and investigate. A dog who enjoys watching the world go by might spend less time doing so. A dog who benefits from predictable routines may find those routines changing.

And what do we sometimes do?

We decide they're being lazy. We assume they're bored. We worry that they're getting out of shape, or we try to make them do the same things they enjoyed in June.

Because apparently, a good dog should maintain the same enthusiasm for everything regardless of the weather, temperature, daylight or general state of the British climate.

Meanwhile, we're considering cancelling our own plans because there's a bit of drizzle.

But perhaps we should start by asking a different question.

What has changed in this dog's world, and how are they responding to it?

That doesn't mean every change in behaviour is seasonal, or that every dog needs a winter wellness plan. It means looking at the bigger picture before jumping to conclusions.

What if your dog becomes more anxious?

For some owners, the change isn't simply that their dog sleeps more or seems less interested in going out.

Perhaps a dog who normally walks comfortably becomes reluctant to leave the house. Maybe they seem more sensitive to noises, less willing to explore, or quicker to react to things that wouldn't normally bother them.

There are plenty of possible explanations.

Darkness effects what a dog can see. Wind carries unfamiliar smells and creates strange noises. Rain hitting surfaces alters the soundscape. Fireworks introduce sudden, unpredictable bangs. Shorter walks and changes in routine can also affect opportunities for exploration and enrichment.

For a dog who is already worried about the world, these changes might make everyday life harder.

But we need to be careful here. We cannot simply attribute increased anxiety to winter, and we don't know that seasonal mood changes are responsible for these behaviours.

Pain, illness, accumulated stress and changes at home may all play a part.

The point isn't to find a new label for the behaviour. It's to consider the circumstances in which it happens.

If a dog who normally enjoys walks suddenly refuses to go outside, I wouldn't automatically conclude that they're having a seasonal wobble. I'd want to understand why.

And if a dog who has been coping reasonably well begins struggling, I'd be interested in what's changed rather than immediately deciding that their training has gone backwards.

A dog isn't a software update. We can't expect them to improve steadily every week and become mysteriously immune to everything life throws at them.

And what about rescue dogs?

This is where I think the question becomes particularly interesting.

Many rescue dogs are doing far more than learning household rules or getting used to a lead. They're learning to navigate a world that may once have been unpredictable, frightening or unfamiliar.

Not every rescue dog has a difficult history, of course. Rescue is a description of how a dog came to live with us, not a diagnosis of their emotional state.

But for dogs who are still learning to feel safe, predictability, choice and opportunities to explore at their own pace can be particularly important.

Imagine you've spent months helping a rescue dog learn that the world isn't a particularly terrifying place.

They're beginning to relax, sniff things and discover that not every unfamiliar noise heralds the end of civilisation.

Then winter arrives.

It's dark, it's wet, there's a bloke dressed like a walking bin bag approaching with an umbrella, and something in the distance has just exploded.

You can hardly blame the dog for wondering whether this whole living-with-humans arrangement was a questionable career move.

Joking aside, seasonal changes can introduce extra challenges for dogs who are already finding the world difficult to navigate.

Could that make life more difficult for some rescue dogs?

It's plausible.

Does it mean rescue dogs are more likely to experience seasonal affective disorder?

We don't have the evidence to make that claim.

What we can do is recognise that a dog who is already finding the world challenging may need us to pay attention to the extra demands winter can bring.

Progress isn't always a straight line. A difficult week doesn't erase months of work, and a dog needing more support in December doesn't mean we've somehow failed them.

Sometimes, the most useful thing we can do is adjust our expectations.

But here's where it gets complicated: am I projecting?

This is the bit I've been thinking about.

If I know winter affects me, how do I know I'm not projecting those feelings onto my dogs?

If I'm looking at them and thinking they're fed up with winter too, am I observing them or simply giving them a starring role in my own seasonal misery?

It's a fair question. And I think it's one worth asking ourselves, particularly when we're trying to understand behaviour rather than simply manage it.

When we're feeling low, tired or unmotivated, our own experiences can influence what we notice and how we interpret it.

If I'm struggling to find the motivation to go outside on a cold, wet morning, I might be more inclined to interpret my dog's reluctance to leave the warm house as evidence that they're feeling miserable too.

But there's an important distinction.

I might be interpreting their behaviour through my own experience without being wrong that they're reluctant to go out.

The observation and the explanation are two different things.

A dog refusing to go out in the rain is evidence that they don't want to go out in the rain at that moment. It isn't, on its own, evidence of canine depression.

They might be cold, uncomfortable, tired or simply perfectly happy where they are. Alternatively, they might be responding to something outside that we haven't noticed.

I need to consider the possibilities rather than deciding that my first interpretation must be correct.

But there's another side to this.

Just because I'm affected by winter doesn't mean my dogs aren't. Dismissing my observations because I recognise something of myself in them would be just as unhelpful as assuming our experiences must be identical.

Empathy means being willing to consider what another individual might be experiencing. Projection happens when we mistake our interpretation for something we actually know.

The challenge is to remain curious without pretending we can read minds.

And that applies to dog behaviour generally, not just the winter blues.

Our moods can affect our dogs, too

Even if my dogs aren't experiencing anything resembling seasonal affective disorder, my own wellbeing can still affect their lives.

If I'm sleeping poorly and feeling unmotivated, I might be less inclined to go for a long walk, play a game or spend time doing activities that I would normally enjoy.

My routine might change. I might have less energy for training or enrichment. I might be quieter, less interactive or simply less inclined to do much.

My dogs experience those changes because we share a home and a daily routine.

That doesn't mean I need to feel guilty about having difficult days. Nobody can maintain the same energy and enthusiasm every day of the year.

It does mean recognising that our lives are connected.

The relationship works both ways, too. Spending time with our dogs can be comforting and enjoyable, and maintaining a routine can sometimes help us get moving when motivation is low.

But we shouldn't turn our dogs into our mental health treatment plan. They have needs of their own, and we have responsibilities to meet them even when we're not feeling our best.

Sometimes that means adapting the day, asking someone for help or finding a manageable way to meet their needs without expecting ourselves to operate at full capacity.

It doesn't have to be all or nothing.

And if you're struggling with your own sleep, mood or motivation for prolonged periods, that's worth taking seriously in its own right. You don't need to wait until you can no longer function before seeking support.

Does every dog need a winter walk in the pouring rain?

Before anyone accuses me of advocating canine hibernation, I'm not suggesting we abandon exercise until spring.

Dogs need appropriate physical activity, mental stimulation, opportunities to explore and social interaction suited to their individual needs. Those needs don't disappear when the clocks change.

But how we meet them can change.

If your dog enjoys a wet, muddy walk, brilliant. Get the waterproofs on, accept that the car will smell like a damp spaniel for the foreseeable future, and enjoy yourselves.

If your dog hates walking in heavy rain, there's nothing particularly virtuous about dragging them through it simply because the calendar says it's walk time.

Apparently, a good dog should enjoy a two-hour walk regardless of the weather, remain cheerful, maintain perfect obedience and never inconvenience anyone with an emotion.

Meanwhile, we reserve the right to cancel plans because it's drizzling.

We have waterproof coats, heated houses, central heating and the option of ordering food without leaving the sofa. Yet somehow, a dog who doesn't fancy a walk in horizontal rain is the one with the attitude problem.

I'm not suggesting dogs should spend six months in hibernation. Their needs don't disappear because the weather is rubbish.

But meeting those needs isn't the same as blindly following a routine regardless of how the dog is coping.

Could you go out earlier, when it's lighter? Choose a quieter route? Take a shorter walk and provide some enrichment at home? Give your dog opportunities to sniff, search and investigate without making every activity a test of endurance?

A few minutes of scent work, a food search, some freework or simply allowing a dog to explore a safe environment at their own pace can be worthwhile additions to their day.

These activities aren't a magical cure for low mood or anxiety. Nor are they always a replacement for a dog's physical exercise needs.

They're options we can adapt to the individual dog.

The important thing is to provide opportunities that suit the dog in front of us rather than following a rigid idea of what a good dog day must look like.

And if your dog chooses to spend a miserable afternoon asleep somewhere warm after having had their needs met, perhaps we can resist the urge to turn it into a personal development project.

How do we tell the difference between observation and assumption?

We don't need to turn our relationship with our dogs into a scientific experiment. But a little curiosity can help.

If you notice a change in your dog's behaviour over the winter months, consider four things.

1. What have I actually observed?

Is your dog sleeping more, declining walks, showing less interest in play or reacting differently to their surroundings?

Try to describe the behaviour without immediately deciding what it means.

2. What am I assuming?

Have you decided your dog is sad, bored, lazy or anxious? What evidence supports that interpretation, and what else could explain it?

3. What has changed?

Consider the weather, daylight, routine, physical activity, household circumstances and your dog's health. Are there obvious differences between their summer and winter lives?

4. Is there a consistent pattern?

Does the behaviour happen repeatedly in particular circumstances? Does your dog respond differently when the weather improves, the routine changes or another person takes them out?

A simple record of behaviour, activity, appetite and circumstances may help you spot patterns that would otherwise be easy to miss.

But don't get so caught up in searching for a seasonal explanation that you overlook other possibilities.

Persistent lethargy, withdrawal, appetite changes or a significant change in behaviour can be signs of pain or illness. If your dog has changed noticeably, particularly if the change is sudden or severe, speak to your vet rather than waiting for spring to see whether things improve.

We shouldn't assume that a dog is experiencing the winter blues any more than we should assume that every behaviour problem is a training issue.

Understanding the individual comes first.

Perhaps the problem isn't the season. Perhaps it's our expectations.

I keep coming back to the way we interpret behaviour.

A dog who doesn't want to walk in the rain is stubborn.

A dog who seems less enthusiastic is lazy.

A dog who becomes more anxious is regressing.

A dog who struggles with a change in routine is being difficult.

We attach a label, and once we've attached it, we often stop asking questions.

But behaviour doesn't happen in a vacuum. It's influenced by the individual dog, their experiences, their health, their environment and what they're being asked to cope with.

That doesn't mean we should excuse every behaviour or stop helping dogs develop the skills they need. It means understanding what we're working with.

If a dog is struggling, we need to consider whether they're physically comfortable, whether their environment is manageable, whether their needs are being met and whether our expectations are realistic.

Sometimes training is the answer. Sometimes the environment needs changing. Sometimes we need veterinary advice. Often, more than one factor is involved.

And sometimes the best thing we can do is stop treating every difficult day as a problem that needs correcting.

That applies to us, too.

We don't need to pretend we're unaffected by the world around us, and we don't need to feel guilty because our energy levels or motivation change. We can acknowledge our own experiences while remaining open to the possibility that our dogs' experiences are different.

Perhaps that's a useful reminder for anyone who lives or works with animals: understanding starts with observation, but it also requires us to question our own assumptions.

So, can dogs get the winter blues?

Possibly, in the broader sense that seasonal changes may affect their mood or wellbeing. But whether dogs experience a condition equivalent to human seasonal affective disorder remains an open question.

We shouldn't pretend the science has given us an answer when it hasn't.

What we can say is that the seasons change our dogs' lives, sometimes quite dramatically. Their routines, activities, surroundings and opportunities all change, and those changes may affect individual dogs differently.

We also know that our own wellbeing can influence how we interact with our dogs and how we interpret their behaviour.

For me, that makes this question worth asking, even if I can't provide a neat answer.

I know winter affects me. I know that my sleep and motivation aren't always where I'd like them to be. And I have to consider whether those experiences influence what I think I see in my dogs.

That doesn't mean my observations are wrong. It means I need to be willing to question them.

Perhaps that's the bigger lesson here.

We don't need to diagnose SAD to recognise that a dog's wellbeing matters throughout the year. We don't need to assume our dogs feel exactly as we do to take their behaviour seriously. And we don't need to label a dog as difficult simply because they're struggling with something we haven't yet understood.

At Ruff Start, I'm interested in understanding the dog rather than simply judging the behaviour. That means looking beyond the obvious, asking questions and being willing to adapt when something isn't working.

Perhaps we should apply that same thinking to winter.

Instead of asking why our dog isn't behaving as they normally do, perhaps we should start by asking whether their world is quite as easy to navigate as it was a few months ago.

And if the answer is no, what can we do to help?

Because our dogs don't owe us the same performance in every season, in every environment and under every circumstance.

They need us to understand them, meet their needs and help them cope with the world they actually live in.

Not the world we think they should be comfortable with.

What about your dog?

Have you noticed changes in your dog's behaviour, energy levels or confidence as the days get shorter? Does your dog love winter, or would they rather file an official complaint against the weather?

And if you've noticed a change, how do you separate what you're observing from what you think your dog might be feeling?

I'd be interested to hear your experiences. Not because every winter behaviour change means something is wrong, but because paying attention to our individual dogs is often where better understanding begins.