A Feral Behaviourist series exploring nervous systems, hope, and the human–dog bond

Sometimes it can feel as though the world is closing in.

The political climate feels relentless. Heatwaves are becoming more frequent, the weather feels increasingly unpredictable, and for many guardians, fireworks are already on the horizon.

If you share your life with a reactive dog, even your usual routines may no longer feel like the refuge they once were. During hot weather, everyone heads out early in the morning or late at night to avoid the heat, meaning those quieter walks suddenly become much busier. Finding space to breathe together can feel harder than ever.

Home doesn’t always feel like an escape either. Neighbours spend more time in their gardens, children play outside, football celebrations echo across the neighbourhood, and every unfamiliar sound or movement can add another layer of stimulation.

Meanwhile, your dog may be struggling with the heat itself. The garden that once offered a safe place to decompress may now feel overwhelming, leaving both of you with fewer places to simply relax.

When the world feels louder, busier and more unpredictable, it is completely understandable if you’re feeling stretched too. Sometimes it isn’t just one thing—it’s the weight of everything arriving at once.

Your Friendly Feral Behaviourist’s Wisdom

As your friendly Feral Behaviourist, I spend a lot of time talking about nervous systems—both human and canine. As an autistic person living with multiple mental health conditions, finding glimmers has never been a wellness trend for me. It’s simply how I’ve learned to find little moments of safety in a world that often feels unpredictable.

Glimmers.

Tiny, beautiful glimmers.

Moments that invite us to pause, breathe, and notice that safety, connection, curiosity and joy still exist alongside the chaos. They don’t erase life’s challenges, but they gently remind our nervous systems that not every moment is one of survival.

Almost every morning, before the day has a chance to gather momentum, I choose something to look forward to. Sometimes it’s as simple as watering my plants, spending time with my dogs, reading a few pages of a book, or enjoying a quiet cup of tea in the garden.

That small moment becomes an anchor.

Because life is unpredictable. Weather changes, work throws surprises our way, social interactions can be exhausting, plans change, and sometimes the world simply feels too loud. Like many autistic people, I often find myself adapting to shifting routines and navigating uncertainty that can feel relentless.

Knowing there is one small moment waiting for me later in the day gives me something to move towards. It offers a gentle sense of hope. A reminder that there is more to today than simply getting through it.

Whether you are neurodivergent or neurotypical, human or canine, our nervous systems all benefit from moments that quietly say,

“You’re safe enough to exhale.”

We All Need Glimmers

Our nervous systems don’t simply need fewer stressors—they also need moments that remind us we are safe.

Without those moments, life can begin to feel like an endless cycle of bracing for the next challenge. We become emotionally tired. We may struggle to relax, feel overwhelmed by things that once felt manageable, or find ourselves becoming frustrated more quickly than we would like. Sometimes we even begin believing we’re failing, when in reality our nervous systems have simply been working incredibly hard to protect us.

In many ways, we are not so different from our dogs.

When they experience too many stressors without enough opportunities to recover, their nervous systems begin to struggle too. They may bark more, react more quickly, find it harder to settle, or simply appear unable to cope with situations they previously managed well.

Perhaps that is why I find glimmers so powerful.

They remind us that safety still exists.

Not all day.

Not every moment.

But often enough to help us keep going.

What This Means for Our Dogs

Learning to understand dogs can sometimes feel overwhelming. There is body language to learn, emotions to understand, health considerations to think about, and no shortage of opinions telling us what we should or shouldn’t be doing.

But when we begin to understand our own nervous systems, something remarkable happens.

We begin to understand theirs.

Perhaps our dog isn’t being stubborn—they’re hot, uncomfortable or overwhelmed.

Perhaps the skateboard racing past really is frightening when you’re only a foot from the ground.

Perhaps the dog throwing itself at the fence next door genuinely feels threatening.

Perhaps the child running towards them with outstretched arms doesn’t feel exciting at all—it feels terrifying.

When we stop seeing our dogs through the expectations of other people and begin seeing them through the lens of their own experience, everything starts to change.

We pause.

We listen.

We become curious.

A growl becomes communication instead of defiance.

A little puddle of urine becomes information instead of bad manners.

A glance back towards us becomes trust.

And in those moments, the relationship between human and dog grows a little stronger.

That, too, is a glimmer.

A Gentle Invitation

Before the next blog in this series, I’d love to leave you with one small invitation.

Find one glimmer.

Just one.

Perhaps it’s sharing a quiet cup of tea while your dog naps beside you.

Perhaps it’s sitting together in the garden after the sun has gone down.

Perhaps it’s watching your dog sniff the breeze.

Perhaps it’s simply noticing the way they look at you.

You don’t need dozens of glimmers.

One is enough.

Because every glimmer is your nervous system quietly whispering,

“We’re safe enough, right now.”

In the next blog, we’ll begin exploring how to notice glimmers in everyday life with our dogs—even the tiny ones that are so easy to overlook.