There’s a quiet moment before every trip that always gets me. Somewhere between packing and checking my bags, I look over—and Sherlock is watching me. Not excited. Not confused. Just… aware. Like he already knows I’m about to leave for more than just a few hours.
I went overseas for a week recently, and it became clearer than ever—our dogs understand more than we think. Not in words, but in their own deeply intuitive way.
They “Smell” the Rhythm of Our Lives
Dogs don’t see time the way we do, but they experience it through patterns—especially scent. When we’re home, our scent fills the space. When we leave, it slowly fades. Over time, dogs learn this rhythm. They start to recognise when it’s “about time” for you to come back, just from how the house smells.
But before a long trip, things change. The routine feels different. There’s more movement, more energy, sometimes even a bit of stress in the air. I was opening cupboards I don’t usually touch, moving from room to room, doing things out of order.
Sherlock may not know what “a week overseas” means—but he knows when something isn’t the same.
The Suitcase Always Gives It Away
Then comes the biggest clue of all—the suitcase. The moment it comes out, Sherlock notices. He watches me pack, quietly following every movement. That bag doesn’t belong to quick errands or short outings. It means something longer. Something different.
And he remembers.
It’s Not What We Say—It’s How We Say It
Before I leave, I always sit down with him for a little “talk.” I tell him to be good, to look after the house, to keep an eye on the cats. I tell him I’ll be back soon. He doesn’t understand the words the way we do—but he understands the feeling behind them.
Dogs are incredibly tuned in to our tone, our body language, and our emotions. A quick “see you later” feels light and routine. But when I sit with him a little longer, speaking more softly, more intentionally—he feels that difference.
And somehow, it all comes together for him.
The Little Things We Do Before We Go
Leaving never feels easy, especially when you know they sense it. So I always try to make it a little gentler for him. Extra treats, a new toy, something to keep him busy while I’m away. Maybe it comforts him. Maybe it comforts me. Probably both.
But it’s my way of saying what I can’t fully explain—that I haven’t left him behind, that this is only temporary, and that I will always come back. And if that message comes with a giant new chew toy and special treats… I'm sure he understands that part perfectly.