This week was not an easy one. Actually, it was kind of heavy, literally and emotionally 😕 Cookie has been gaining weight quickly in the last couple of months. And not just a few pounds here and there. It’s gotten to the point where it’s affecting her daily life, her energy, her confidence. I’ve known for a while that we needed to make some changes, but this week, it hit me hard: we really, truly need a structure now. Something sustainable. Something solid.

The thing is, we’ve always been an active team, Cookie and me. I wake up early, sometimes before the sun even thinks about rising… I also stay up late, not because I want to, but because I try to catch those windows when the world is quiet. When there are no kids running, no scooters zipping by, no sudden loud noises that might set her off. Those are our safe times to go out. It’s our moment to breathe, walk, stretch, and exist in peace. We play, we walk, we explore. And when we’re indoors, we’re not just chilling on the couch (okay, sometimes we are). But mostly, I keep her active inside too with short games, fun training sessions, mental stimulation. I do what I can.

Her meals are actually healthy. I’ve always been mindful of what she eats — no junk, no weird filler foods. But over the last year, we’ve been so focused on training, really consistent, daily work, and with that came high-value treats 🧀 You know the kind: cheese cubes, dried liver, stuff that smells like feet but works like magic. They’ve helped her through so much, especially in a new country, in a world full of unknowns and overstimulation.

At first, I used her kibble as treats. It worked. For a while. But like most smart dogs, she eventually caught on. Kibble outside? Pfft. Boring. She wants the good stuff, and I can’t blame her. But somewhere in the balance between progress and indulgence, the scale tipped. I was feeding more, training more, and moving just slightly less. And now, here we are…

So, I’ve made some adjustments. Fewer high-fat treats, more kibble. But that also means fewer successful outdoor training sessions because without cheddar, the world is too distracting for her. That’s okay, though. We’re pivoting. More indoor play, more puzzle games, more movement inside the walls of our little apartment. But if I’m honest, it feels like I’m just barely holding it all together. Like I’m spinning plates and the biggest one i.e. her health is wobbling right in front of me.

And here’s the thing that’s been weighing on my heart even more: this is one of those issues people rarely talk about. Reactive dogs and weight issues. You hear about picky eaters. You hear about aggressive dogs. But the intersection of reactivity and diet? The challenge of needing high-value treats for progress and the unintended consequence of unhealthy weight gain? It’s like this little unspoken corner of the dog parent world. And it’s lonely here sometimes. There’s guilt. There’s judgment. And there’s so much love trying to push through all of it.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how helpful a more structured diet could be. Not just for Cookie, but for me too. It’s like, if we set a clear path for her food and exercise, maybe the other chaos in life would quiet down a little. But when you’re already stretched thin mentally, emotionally, financially, even the simple things can feel like climbing a mountain.

We’re starting a new training program next week, and I’m cautiously hopeful. I’m excited to have guidance again. To be part of something that gives us direction, accountability, and maybe even some community. Training always brings a sense of rhythm to our lives, and we could really use that right now.

What adds to the weight of it all — no pun intended — is that we don’t have a car. And in the U.S., not having a car is a huge limitation. It feels like you’re cut off from entire chunks of life. In Istanbul, we walked everywhere. Sidewalks, buses, ferries, the whole city was made for people, for motion, for connection. Here, we can walk around the neighborhood, sure, but to access open fields, less crowded parks, nature trails where Cookie can feel free and safe? We need wheels.

And as an international student, getting one is complicated. There are layers of paperwork, uncertainty about where we’ll even be living next year, and the ever-present weight of trying to just make ends meet. Some days, I think, “Maybe I’m being dramatic, maybe it’s not that important.” But then I see Cookie’s face when we do rent a car, when we save up just enough to take her to a trail through Sniffspot. She comes alive. She sniffs the air like it’s poetry 🍂 She observes everything. She listens. She doesn’t care about balls or frisbees — she’s a nature dog, through and through. She doesn’t want to chase; she wants to experience. And not being able to give her that more often? That crushes me.

It’s not that I want a luxurious life. I don’t dream of fancy cars or big houses for myself. But I dream of a small yard where Cookie can roam freely. A used car, even, so I can take her to the kind of places that make her tail wag with curiosity instead of stress. I dream of stability. Of a place to land for a few years. A home base. A routine.

Cookie didn’t ask to be born into this unpredictable, messy chapter of my life. She deserves the best and I’m trying, every single day, to give it to her.

Sometimes I think about the people we pass on our walks. Most don’t know the effort it takes to even have that walk. The careful planning, the time of day, the bag of treats, the moments of redirection, the heart-racing seconds when a trigger pops out of nowhere. They just see a girl and her dog strolling by. But under that surface? It’s love. It’s work. It’s commitment. It’s survival.

Despite all of this — or maybe because of it — I feel grateful. I really do. I’m alive. I’m healthy. Cookie is with me. We may not have a lot, but we have each other. We have our morning snuggles, our funny little games, our quiet, shared moments when the world feels gentle.

This week has been hard. But even in the heaviness, I see light. I see the possibility of change. I see the love I have for this dog, a love that drives me to keep showing up, even when I’m exhausted, even when it feels like I’m stuck.

I don’t have the answers yet. I don’t know what next year holds, or if we’ll have a car, or if we’ll find a yard, or even where we’ll live. But I do know that we’ll keep trying. We’ll keep moving. We’ll keep loving each other through it all.

So, if you’re reading this and feeling something similar, that ache of wanting more for your dog, the stress of doing your best in a world that’s always asking for more, just know you’re not alone. Hug your fur baby’s tight tonight. Tell them you love them. And be gentle with yourself. You’re doing more than you think.

Take care, friends. And thanks for being here with me.

With love, from me and Cookie 🐾