15 Things I Learned About Life From Walking Dogs in Hoboken for 15 Years

Fifteen years ago, I left film school.

I was studying at the School of Visual Arts in New York City, making short films that looked creative but felt hollow. I could frame a shot. I could edit a scene. But I could not convince myself it mattered.

So I walked away.

At 21, I answered a Craigslist ad for a dog walker. I almost didn’t go. A week later I was holding the leash of a Saint Bernard puppy, trying to look confident while thinking I might get dragged down the block.

I thought it would be temporary.

It wasn’t.

Here’s what fifteen years of sidewalks, weather, fur, and responsibility taught me.

You can’t control everything. Stop trying.

You can plan the route, clip the leash perfectly, check the forecast, and still have a dog lunge at something you didn’t see.

You can’t control the weather.

You can’t control other people’s moods.

You can’t control timing.

You control your effort. Your response. Your standards.

The rest is noise.

Most of the time no one is watching. You should still always do your best.

Most of dog walking happens when no one sees it.

No one knows if you cut a corner.

No one checks if you rushed the walk.

No one audits how patient you were.

The dog knows.

And you know.

Life is like that too.

No one tracks the extra discipline.

No one applauds quiet integrity.

But those decisions compound.

Character is built in private.

Most problems aren’t as big as they feel.

I’ve been soaked in the rain, stood frozen in traffic with a stubborn dog, stepped in things I will not describe.

It feels dramatic for a minute. Then it’s just part of the day.

A bad meeting. A tough conversation. A plan falling apart.

Most of it is friction, not tragedy.

Discipline is liberating.

The calmest dogs have rhythm. Same time. Clear rules. No debate at the door.

The ones with unlimited freedom are usually anxious and reactive.

It works the same way with money, fitness, business.

Budgeting feels tight until you’re not stressed.

Training feels repetitive until you’re strong.

Structure steadies you.

Boundaries prevent resentment.

Let a dog pull once and it becomes the rule.

Say yes to everything and your time stops being respected.

If you do not set the line, someone else will move it.

Clear boundaries are not harsh. They are honest.

Not everyone fits everywhere.

Some dogs thrive in packs. Others shut down.

You cannot force personality into a mold.

Same with jobs. Same with romantic relationships.

Fit saves energy. Forcing it drains you.

Small habits compound.

Leash pulling starts small. So does chaos.

Ignore it long enough and it becomes normal.

Skipping one workout becomes a month.

Avoiding one conversation becomes years.

Tiny allowances build your future.

Energy speaks louder than words.

Dogs feel you before they hear you.

If I am tense, they tighten.

If I am calm, they settle.

Your mood walks into a room before you do.

People respond to who you are, not what you say.

You can’t fake competence.

A dog tests hesitation immediately.

Real calm comes from repetition. From crossing enough streets safely that your body no longer panics.

Confidence without experience cracks.

Competence holds.

Most “bad behavior” is unmet need.

A bored dog destroys things.

An under walked dog becomes reactive.

It looks like defiance. Usually it is frustration.

People are not that different.

Burnout looks like anger.

Avoidance looks like indifference.

I learned that firsthand dating someone avoidant with daddy issues. It was not villainy. It was unhealed stuff spilling over.

Behavior is often pain without language.

Showing up shapes you.

Rain. Snow. Heat waves. The walk still happens.

You stop waiting to feel motivated.

You go anyway.

That discipline bleeds into everything else.

Not everyone understands you. And that’s fine.

Some people hear dog walker and think it’s simple.

They do not see the logistics, the responsibility, the years behind it.

Not everyone will understand why you chose your path.

You do not need them to.

Love doesn’t stop loss.

If you do this long enough, you walk dogs through their whole lives.

You watch them slow down. You shorten the route. You carry them when they cannot manage stairs.

And one day the leash hangs quiet.

Love does not prevent endings.

It makes them matter.

Everything is temporary.

Puppies become seniors faster than you expect.

Routines change. Clients move. Seasons shift.

Ordinary days are on loan.

That realization changes how you move through them.

Life is what you make it.

Your dog’s life is shaped by what you choose.

Choose the right fit. Train consistently. Show up. Be present. Do not waste the years.

That is intentional.

Life works the same way.

You can stay in something that looks right but feels empty.

Or you can pivot. Take the strange Craigslist job. Lean in. Build something real from what is in front of you.

I left film school because it did not feel true.

Dog walking was not glamorous.

But I chose to take it seriously.

Meaning did not arrive fully formed.

I built it.

This article is based on the author’s real world experience and professional observations. AI tools assisted in structuring the article for readability, organization and flow.