Does ADHD Make Me a Bad Dog Mum?

Now, you can probably hear the RSD oozing out of this post already.

But here I am—typing this with a very comfortable, very snoozy puppy curled up on my lap. She chose to snuggle up with me. Again. She always does and I feel very, very lucky!

And still, sometimes I wonder if she hates me.

I know that sounds dramatic (because it is), but when she’s a bit “off,” or extra barky, or serving up full-bodied dachshund sass with a side of side-eye... I spiral. I start questioning if I’m doing enough. If she’s happy. If she’d be better off with someone more structured, more high-energy, less overwhelmed.

The RSD Spiral: Featuring My Pup - Sooty

For those unfamiliar, RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) is a special ADHD Villain &  emotional gut-punch that turns even subtle negative thoughts into deep waves of shame and fear of failure. And let me tell you: it doesn’t stop at human relationships.

When Sooty’s vibe is off—even slightly—I don’t just notice it. I feel it in my soul. And my ADHD brain instantly starts to turn that shift in energy into a personal failing.

“Is she mad at me?”
“Am I not fun enough?”
“Did I ruin her whole life by needing a nap instead of a walk?”
“Would she be better off with someone else?”

Spoiler: she wouldn’t. But try telling that to my brain in the middle of a guilt spiral.

The Reality (Not the RSD)

Sooty is still a puppy.
She’s still learning.
She doesn’t like to nap when we’re not at home/if I am not there
Sometimes she’s just overtired, overstimulated, too hot, bored, hungry, or just plain sassy. (Honestly, same - I have those days too.)

But here’s what’s actually true:
Even on my lowest spoon days… Sooty doesn’t go without.
She gets her meals. Her snuggles. Her playtime. I make sure of this in lots of ways, from her school/daycare adventures (which are not cheap!) to enrichment toys.
And if I can’t meet a need on my own, I find help—friends, neighbours. I make it work.

It’s Not About Being Perfect

Sometimes I cancel plans because I can’t bear the thought of leaving her alone. (Yep this is on me!)
Sometimes I feel trapped because I haven’t cracked the code of “nipping out for a coffee on my own and leaving her home chilling out”
Sometimes I resent how loud she barks during coaching calls or when I am chilling out, and how clingy she gets when I need focus time.
And sometimes I feel really guilty for those feelings. Because it’s not her fault. She’s a dog. A really amazing, beautiful and lovely one.

I underestimated the commitment of a pup. That’s the truth. It’s like having a baby that never grows up—and while I love her endlessly, I still mourn a bit of freedom, space, and ease I had. Especially as I have had some health troubles making it a bit harder. That doesn’t make me a monster. It makes me honest & hopefully relatable to who ever is reading this!

ADHD Parenting (Even the Furry Kind)

I live alone. I run my own business, I am responsible for all finances. I’m managing my ADHD every single day.
I don’t have a partner to share the load, and be a helping hand for her to go off for an hour while I run errands or just breathe.
And yet—despite the overwhelm, the exhaustion, the imposter syndrome—I’m doing it. We’re doing it.

I bought a bigger bed because she takes up ALOT of space - YES I know a mini dachshund is small... but not when they sleep!
I’ve added ramps and steps around the house.
She gets first dibs on the fan during a heatwave.
She goes to daycare three times a week for stimulation and play at big financial expense.
And she gets me—at my best, my worst, and everything in between.

So… Am I a Bad Dog Mum?

No. ADHD doesn’t make me a bad dog mum.
It makes me a deeply sensitive, hyper-aware, emotionally in-tune one.

And while that sensitivity sometimes sends me into spirals, it also means I care deeply. I notice details. I try harder. I reflect and adjust.

Her wellbeing is my number one priority.
And while we’re still finding our rhythm, I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

We’re not perfect—but we’re a team. And together, we’re learning how to live in this wild, wonderful neurodivergent world—one cuddle, one bark, one sticky RSD spiral at a time.

From me to you: If you’re a neurodiverse pet parent trying your best: I see you. You’re not alone. You’re doing better than you think!