10/22/2026
The public isn't always the enemy. And you don't need to be your own.
I've been thinking about this for a while, and I think it's a conversation worth having within the service dog community.
Not because I think handlers need another person telling them how they should behave, but because I think we're putting ourselves through a hell of a lot more stress than we sometimes realize.
I'm a disabled service dog handler. I've spent years working alongside Kairo, navigating public spaces, managing my own health, and dealing with all the little things that come with having a working dog beside you.
I understand how frustrating the public can be.
I understand what it's like when someone tries to distract your dog, asks a question that's none of their business, or makes assumptions about your disability.
And I understand why some handlers eventually get tired of dealing with people altogether.
But there's something I've noticed over the years that I think deserves a little more attention.
Some of us have gotten so used to defending ourselves that we've started expecting a fight before anyone has even said a word.
And I think that's a problem.
Not because handlers don't have legitimate reasons to be frustrated. We absolutely do.
But because there's a difference between protecting yourself from someone who's genuinely causing a problem and assuming everyone who approaches you is going to become one.
I've met handlers who absolutely dread going out in public because they're constantly anticipating the next confrontation.
Someone looks at their dog, and they're immediately uncomfortable.
Someone asks a question, and they're already preparing an argument.
Someone doesn't understand service dog etiquette, and instead of recognizing an opportunity to explain something, the interaction becomes hostile.
And I get it. I really do.
When you've had enough negative experiences, it's easy to start expecting them.
But not everyone who approaches you is an as***le.
Some people are genuinely curious.
Some have never met a service dog team before.
Some don't understand why distracting a working dog is inappropriate.
And some are simply trying to be friendly.
That doesn't mean we have to entertain every conversation or excuse inappropriate behaviour.
It means we need to recognize that ignorance and malicious intent aren't necessarily the same thing.
Someone not knowing better doesn't automatically mean they're trying to disrespect you.
And I think remembering that can change a lot about how we navigate the world.
My approach with Kairo has always been pretty straightforward.
Kill them with kindness.
Seriously.
If someone asks to pet him, I explain that he's working.
If someone asks what he does, I might share a little about his medical alert and response work, depending on how I'm feeling and whether I have the time.
If someone asks something inappropriate, I establish that boundary.
And if someone refuses to respect it, we're done talking.
I don't need to argue with them.
I don't need to embarrass them.
And I certainly don't need to spend the next three hours replaying the interaction in my head.
You can be firm without being an as***le.
I think that's something we forget sometimes.
Being polite doesn't mean you're allowing people to walk all over you.
Being willing to educate someone doesn't mean you owe the public an explanation of your disability.
And choosing not to engage doesn't mean you've somehow failed to advocate for yourself.
There are absolutely situations where we need to stand our ground. Discrimination happens. Access issues happen. People interfere with working dogs, and sometimes a polite explanation isn't enough.
When that happens, advocate for yourself.
Know your rights. Protect your dog. Get support when you need it.
But don't let those experiences convince you that every person you encounter has bad intentions.
Because if you go into every public outing expecting a confrontation, you're already carrying around stress from an argument that hasn't even happened.
And when you're living with a disability, you probably have enough on your plate already.
But I think there's something deeper going on here, too.
I think a lot of the defensiveness we see within the service dog community comes from the pressure handlers put on themselves.
And holy s**t, can we be hard on ourselves.
We worry about whether our dogs are behaving appropriately.
We worry about people watching us.
We worry about being questioned, judged, recorded, or accused of not having a legitimate service dog.
We worry about our dogs making mistakes.
And sometimes we become so focused on what everyone else might think that we forget to recognize how much of that judgment is actually coming from ourselves.
We're so afraid of someone else deciding we're not good enough that we've already started convincing ourselves of it.
Think about that for a second.
How many times have you replayed a public interaction in your head, wondering whether you should have said something differently?
How many times have you felt embarrassed because your dog got distracted?
How many times have you worried that one imperfect moment might make someone question your entire partnership?
I've seen handlers question months, sometimes years, of work because their dog had one difficult outing.
And as a trainer, that bothers me.
Not because standards don't matter. They absolutely do.
Service dogs need appropriate training. They need the skills to work safely and appropriately in public, and handlers have a responsibility to recognize when their dogs are struggling.
I'm not interested in pretending otherwise.
But having high standards and expecting perfection are two very different things.
Kairo is a highly trained medical alert and response service dog.
He's also a dog.
He gets distracted sometimes. He has preferences. He has a personality. And there are days when things don't go exactly as planned.
I'm a professional trainer, and guess what?
I still make mistakes, too.
There are moments when I could have communicated more clearly.
There are situations where I could have made a different decision.
And there are days when I need to recognize that one or both of us simply aren't having our best day.
That doesn't make me a bad handler.
It doesn't make Kairo a bad service dog.
It means we're human and dog, doing our best to navigate life together.
One difficult moment doesn't erase years of training, trust, and hard work.
Now, if something isn't working, we address it.
If Kairo needs more support with something, we work on it.
If an environment is too much that day, we adjust.
That's part of being a responsible handler.
But I refuse to turn every imperfect moment into some massive personal failure.
And I wish more handlers would stop doing that to themselves.
Because here's something I find interesting.
When I'm working with clients, I spend a lot of time reminding them that learning isn't linear.
Their dog might understand something beautifully one day and struggle with it the next.
That doesn't mean the training has failed.
It means we need to look at what's happening, figure out what support is missing, and help the dog succeed.
We don't expect a dog to learn everything perfectly the first time.
We don't expect every environment to be equally easy.
And we certainly shouldn't be treating every mistake like it's the end of the world.
So why the hell do we turn around and expect perfection from ourselves?
Why is it okay for our dogs to have difficult days, but somehow unacceptable for us?
Why can we recognize that our dogs need patience, understanding, and support, yet struggle to offer ourselves those same things?
I think that's where a lot of handlers get stuck.
We're trying so hard to be good advocates, responsible handlers, and positive representatives of the service dog community that we forget we're allowed to be people.
People with disabilities.
People who get tired.
People who have bad days.
People who occasionally say the wrong thing, make the wrong call, or wish they'd handled something differently.
And that's okay.
You don't have to be the perfect handler to be a good one.
You do, however, have to be willing to learn.
That's something I've always believed, both as a trainer and as Kairo's handler.
The day I decide I know everything is the day I've stopped doing my job properly.
There's always something to learn.
Something to improve.
Something I could approach differently.
And I think being able to acknowledge that without tearing yourself apart is a hell of a lot more valuable than pretending you never make mistakes.
Because Kairo doesn't need me to be perfect.
He needs me to pay attention.
He needs me to understand what he's communicating.
He needs me to recognize when something isn't working and be willing to make changes.
And I need to trust the partnership we've built enough to know that one difficult day doesn't define us.
We're a team. Not a performance for the people watching us.
That's the part I really want other handlers to remember.
You and your dog have a life to live.
You have places to go, things to do, and challenges to navigate that most of the people around you probably know nothing about.
You don't need to spend every outing trying to prove yourself to strangers.
You don't need to win every argument.
You don't need to educate every person who approaches you.
And you definitely don't need to spend the rest of your day beating yourself up because something didn't go perfectly.
Sometimes the best thing you can do is politely explain a boundary and carry on.
Sometimes it's having a conversation with someone who's genuinely interested in learning.
Sometimes it's standing your ground when someone refuses to respect your rights.
And sometimes it's recognizing that you've had enough for the day and going home.
None of those things makes you less of a handler.
They're simply different ways of navigating different situations.
The goal shouldn't be to win every public interaction. It should be to handle the situation in front of you without losing sight of yourself or your dog in the process.
And I think we could all benefit from remembering that.
I don't want my life with Kairo to revolve around anticipating the next person who's going to give us a hard time.
I don't want to walk into every business already frustrated.
And I don't want to become so concerned about what other people might think that I forget to enjoy the independence and partnership we've worked so hard to build.
Will we still have difficult interactions?
Of course.
Will there be people who genuinely deserve to be told to mind their own business?
Absolutely.
But there will also be people who are curious, respectful, and willing to learn.
And I don't want to treat those people like they've already done something wrong.
Kindness isn't weakness. Boundaries aren't aggression. And advocacy doesn't have to look like confrontation.
You can protect yourself without assuming the worst about everyone.
You can hold your dog to appropriate standards without expecting them to be a machine.
And you can take your responsibilities seriously without treating every mistake as a reflection of your worth.
I think that's something we need to talk about more.
Because sometimes the biggest challenge isn't the person approaching us in the grocery store.
It's the pressure we've put on ourselves before we even walked through the door.
So here's what I'd encourage other service dog handlers to remember.
Give people a chance to show you who they are before deciding they're looking for a fight.
Educate when you can. Be firm when you need to. Walk away when the conversation isn't worth your energy.
Keep learning. Keep working with your dog. Keep advocating for yourself.
But stop expecting perfection.
From your dog.
From every interaction.
And especially from yourself.
We spend so much time worrying about whether the world is going to judge us that sometimes we forget we're already doing a pretty damn good job of judging ourselves.
Kairo and I aren't perfect.
We never will be.
But we're a team, and I'm pretty damn proud of the partnership we've built.
That's enough for me.
And I hope, wherever you are in your own service dog journey, you can start giving yourself a little more credit, too.
The public isn't always the enemy. And you don't need to be your own.
Christopher Froess
Owner & Head Trainer
Kairo's K9s Training
[email protected]
