Knowing When to Say No: Prioritizing Safety in Dog Walking

Disclaimer: The image accompanying this piece is a stock photo of a Golden Retriever and is not the actual dog mentioned in the story.

Yesterday, I met with a potential new client who needed daily afternoon walks for their large Golden Retriever. The wife was traveling, and the husband worked in-office, so they required consistent midday care. I arrived at their high-rise apartment located on one of the busiest roads in southern New Jersey. The wife greeted me in the lobby and escorted me upstairs, casually warning me along the way that their dog could get “excited.”

That warning turned out to be a significant understatement. When we entered the apartment, the dog’s behavior was overwhelming—he was jumping, flopping, and mouthing my hands (not aggressively but incessantly). It was a struggle just to step inside, as he was completely inconsolable. Within minutes, I was drenched in slobber, and my black outfit was coated in dog hair. While I’ve worked with energetic dogs before, this level of hyperactivity was on another level.

Despite the chaos, I proceeded with my standard intake questions: Where does he like to walk? How often does he go out? Does he respond to any specific commands? The wife’s responses suggested that the dog lacked consistent training and boundaries, which became even clearer during the trial walk.

I chose a chain slip collar for better control, but even with that, the dog’s pulling was relentless. As soon as we stepped into the elevator, he began lunging toward the door. When it opened, he surged forward so strongly that I nearly lost my footing. I immediately stopped and directed him to sit—something I always do to set boundaries with a dog. The wife seemed confused and asked why I stopped walking. I explained that calming him before continuing was necessary, especially given the dangers posed by the busy street outside.

Once we exited the building, the situation didn’t improve. The dog’s erratic behavior—lunging, writhing, and jumping—made it nearly impossible to maintain control. After a few steps to a grassy patch where he relieved himself, I made the decision to end the trial walk. I told the wife that I wouldn’t be taking the job. She seemed surprised and asked if I had ever walked large dogs before. I assured her that I had—everything from German Shepherds to St. Bernards—but this wasn’t about size. It was about temperament, training, and safety.

I explained that the dog needed consistent training to address his behavior before walking him in such a high-traffic area would be safe. Without that foundation, there was too much risk involved—for me, for him, and for those around us.

When I evaluate potential clients, I look at more than just the dog’s size or breed. I consider their energy level, temperament, responsiveness to commands, and whether I feel I can provide a safe and positive experience for both of us. If any of these elements pose a safety concern, I won’t take the job, no matter how much I want to help.

Walking dogs isn’t just about getting from point A to point B—it’s about ensuring the safety and well-being of both the dog and myself. Knowing when to say no is an important part of that responsibility. While it’s never easy to turn someone away, trusting my instincts ensures I can continue providing the best care for the dogs I do work with.