💔 The Curse of the Dog Trainer: Rescue Burnout and the Dogs We Can’t Save

Does he bite? Well, he has teeth.

I get offered dogs almost every week.

“Can you take him? We just can’t manage him anymore.”

“She’s sweet, but she bit our kid and now we’re scared.”

“He needs a trainer—he’s too much for us.”

I want to say yes. Every time. And for years, I did.

But here’s the truth I wish more people understood: dog trainers aren’t rescue warehouses. We are not immune to burnout. And many of the dogs being offered to us are deeply unsafe.

😞 It’s Not That We Don’t Care—It’s That We Care Too Much

We are literally loving these dogs to death.

We take in the ones no one else wants. The ones that can’t live with other dogs. The ones who guard food, or beds, or space. The ones who’ve bitten people—sometimes badly. We do it because we believe in rehabilitation. Because we’ve seen miracles happen. Because we love dogs to our core.

But this love comes at a cost.

🩹 I’ve Paid the Price—In Blood, Scars, and Broken Bones

Saying yes has left me with:

• Scars on my body that will never fully fade

• A hand that won’t function properly ever again

• A broken heart from watching good dogs fail in spite of everything I gave them

I’ve seen my own animals get hurt.

I’ve seen my kids get bitten, even when they weren’t doing anything wrong—like the time a dog resource guarded his bed from a toddler just walking past.

Do you know what that does to a parent? To a professional?

It changes everything.

Rehab is hard, but it can be done with the right situation.

🚨 Most of These Dogs Are Not Safe to Rehome

This is the part that hurts the most.

Many of the dogs trainers are asked to take are not safe to place in an average home. Some aren’t safe to place in anyhome. Not because they’re evil. Not because they’re broken. But because they’re a liability—a bite waiting to happen. A lawsuit. A tragedy. And we know it.

But we take them anyway. Or we used to.

We separate dogs who can’t be around each other. We keep muzzles on in our own kitchens. We manage. We rearrange our lives to make space. We live in a constant state of hypervigilance.

Until one day, we can’t anymore.

The curse of the dog trainer.

❌ I’ve Learned to Say No—But It Took Everything

I don’t take them anymore. Not like I used to.

Not because I don’t want to help. But because I can’t afford to keep bleeding.

Because my kids deserve to feel safe in their own home.

Because my dogs shouldn’t have to tiptoe around an unstable new intake.

Because my body—and my heart—have limits.

And the worst part? Most other trainers can’t take your dog either. Not because we don’t care, but because we’ve already given everything and we still couldn’t save them all.

💬 So No—We Can’t Take Your Dog

If you’re calling us because your dog is biting and you’re out of options, please know: we’ve been there. We understand. But don’t be surprised when we say no. Don’t be angry. Don’t guilt-trip us into “just meeting” or “just giving it a shot.”

Because that “one more dog” could be the one that bites our child.

That “one more dog” could destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to build.

That “one more dog” might be the one that pushes us over the edge.

💔 The Final Truth

This job breaks people. Not because we don’t love it—but because we love it too much.

And when we’ve learned—often the hard way—to set boundaries, it’s not because we’ve gone cold. It’s because we’ve finally realized we have to protect our own lives as fiercely as we try to protect theirs.

So no, I can’t take your dog.

And chances are, neither can the next trainer you call.

Please understand that before you ask.

We do everything we can for them.