Dear Bailey,

My golden retriever, Max, has developed what I can only describe as an unhealthy obsession with my presence. He follows me from room to room, whines when I leave for work and has somehow managed to destroy two couches, three pairs of shoes and what I'm pretty sure was a load-bearing wall in my kitchen while I was gone for eight hours.

I love my dog, but I'm starting to feel like I can't even use the bathroom without him having an existential crisis on the other side of the door. How do I help him understand that I always come back?

Sincerely,

Permanently Attached to My Pup in Portland

Dear Permanently Attached,

Well, well, well. It sounds like Max has decided that you're basically a portable water bowl with opposable thumbs, and separating from you is equivalent to losing his will to live. I respect the commitment to dramatics. Us dogs can really commit to a bit.

Here's the thing: separation anxiety is genuinely rough for dogs, even if it does result in furniture that looks like it went through a wood chipper. Max isn't being destructive to tick you off. He's panicking, and his way of dealing with panic is apparently industrial-grade demolition work. So let's fix this together, because I promise you, he's suffering more than your couch is.

Start by making departures boring. And I mean aggressively boring. No big goodbyes where you get down on the floor and have an emotional moment while Max licks your face. That just tells him that leaving is a Big Deal and obviously something to worry about. Instead, grab your keys, ignore the dog and walk out like you're heading to get the mail. Because honestly, as far as Max needs to know, you basically are.

Practice short departures. Leave for 30 seconds. Come back. Leave for two minutes. Come back. The goal is teaching his tiny golden brain that departures are temporary and survivable. Revolutionary, I know.

Get yourself some high-value treats or puzzle toys that only appear when you're leaving. A Kong stuffed with peanut butter or a snuffle mat full of treats creates a positive association with your departure. Max will eventually start thinking, "Oh boy, Mom's leaving, which means TREATS ARE HAPPENING," instead of "THE APOCALYPSE IS NIGH."

Consider crate training if Max isn't already crate trained. I know, I know, it sounds mean. But a properly conditioned crate is a dog's safe space, not a prison. It limits destructive behavior and gives him boundaries during those anxiety-inducing moments.

Here's the sneaky part: tire him out before you leave. A good 30 to 45 minute walk or play session means Max's brain is too busy recovering to spiral into panic mode. A tired dog is a well-behaved dog. This is science, probably.

If Max is still losing his mind after a few weeks of this routine, talk to your vet about whether anti-anxiety medication might help him get over the initial hump. There's no shame in that game. Sometimes our brains need a little chemical support to learn new things, and that applies to dogs too.

Also, resist the urge to sneak back inside to check on him. I know you want to. But every time you do, you're confirming his suspicion that something terrible happens when you leave, and you need to supervise it. It's a trap.

One more thing: be patient. Max didn't develop this anxiety overnight, and he won't get over it overnight either. Some dogs are just more anxious by nature, and that's okay. You're already a good pet parent for trying to help him instead of just accepting couch carnage as your new reality.

You've got this, Portland. Max will learn. Probably around the same time he stops thinking the mailman is a personal vendetta against him.

Bark on,

Bailey