April is Canine Fitness Month. It's over now. The Instagram posts have stopped. The "30-day walking challenge" hashtags have faded. The sponsored ads for dog treadmills are gone.
But your dog's weight is still there. Still on the scale. Still on their joints. Still in the way of the life they want to live.
I'm not judging. I've done the same thing. January: "This is the year we get fit!" February: "It's too cold." March: "We'll start in April." April: "Canine Fitness Month! We're doing this!" May: "Well, we tried."
The problem with month-long challenges is that they end. And when they end, we go back to our old habits. The dog goes back to the couch. The treats go back to the unlimited bowl. The walks go back to "whenever we have time." And the weight goes back to creeping up, ounce by ounce, until next year's challenge.
I managed a weight loss program at a clinic in Portland for three years. We called it "Fit for Life," which was cheesy but accurate. The dogs that succeeded weren't the ones that went hard for a month. They were the ones that made tiny, boring, sustainable changes and stuck with them for years.
Take Barbara and her pug, Frank. Frank was 28 pounds. He should have been 18. Barbara tried everything. The fitness month. The diet food. The dog treadmill. None of it stuck. Then we made one change: she started measuring his food with a kitchen scale instead of a scoop. That's it. One change. Frank lost 8 pounds in a year. Not fast. Not dramatic. But permanent. Because Barbara could keep doing it forever.
Or take David and his Lab, Cooper. Cooper was 95 pounds. David tried the 30-day challenge three times. Failed all three. Then we changed one thing: instead of one long walk on weekends, David did three 10-minute walks per day. Before work, at lunch, after dinner. Total time: 30 minutes. Same as the weekend walk. But spread out. Cooper started moving better. Started losing weight. Started acting like a puppy again. David didn't need a challenge. He needed a habit.
The truth is, fitness isn't a month. It's not a challenge. It's not a hashtag. It's a lifestyle. It's boring. It's repetitive. It's unglamorous. And it's the only thing that works.
So if your dog didn't lose weight in April, don't feel bad. April was just a month. What matters is what you do in May. And June. And July. And every month after that. One small change. One sustainable habit. One measured meal. One short walk. That's how dogs get fit. Not in a month. In a lifetime.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the fitness challenge that actually worked. It wasn't in April. It was in November. The worst month. The dark month. The "I don't want to go outside" month. And that's exactly why it worked.
My client, a woman named Theresa, had a 60-pound beagle named Biscuit. Biscuit was fat. Not chubby. Fat. His belly dragged on the ground. His breathing sounded like a broken accordion. He couldn't jump on the couch. He couldn't climb stairs. He was 8 years old and acted like he was 18.
Theresa tried the April challenge. Failed. Tried again in July. Failed. Then she called me in October. "I need something that will stick," she said. "Not a challenge. A change."
We made three changes. One: she bought a kitchen scale. Not a fancy one. A $15 digital scale from Target. She weighed Biscuit's food every single day. Two: she stopped free feeding. Biscuit got two meals. Morning and evening. Measured. No bowl left out. Three: she started doing "micro-walks." Three 10-minute walks per day. Before work, at lunch, after dinner. Total: 30 minutes. Same as one long walk. But spread out. Easier to commit to. Easier to maintain.
That's it. Three changes. No challenge. No hashtag. No Instagram post. Just three boring, sustainable habits.
Biscuit lost 12 pounds in 10 months. He started jumping on the couch again. He started climbing stairs. He started chasing squirrels. Theresa called me last week to tell me he had caught one. "He hasn't caught a squirrel in five years," she said. She was crying. I was crying. Biscuit was probably eating the squirrel. But that's okay. He earned it.
The point is, fitness isn't a month. It's not a challenge. It's not a resolution. It's a lifestyle. It's boring. It's repetitive. It's unglamorous. And it's the only thing that works. So if April didn't work for you, don't worry. April was just a month. What matters is what you do next. And next. And next. One small change. One sustainable habit. One measured meal. One short walk. That's how dogs get fit. Not in a month. In a lifetime.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the fitness challenge that actually worked. It wasn't in April. It was in November. The worst month. The dark month. The "I don't want to go outside" month. And that's exactly why it worked.
My client, a woman named Theresa, had a 60-pound beagle named Biscuit. Biscuit was fat. Not chubby. Fat. His belly dragged on the ground. His breathing sounded like a broken accordion. He couldn't jump on the couch. He couldn't climb stairs. He was 8 years old and acted like he was 18.
Theresa tried the April challenge. Failed. Tried again in July. Failed. Then she called me in October. "I need something that will stick," she said. "Not a challenge. A change."
We made three changes. One: she bought a kitchen scale. Not a fancy one. A $15 digital scale from Target. She weighed Biscuit's food every single day. Two: she stopped free feeding. Biscuit got two meals. Morning and evening. Measured. No bowl left out. Three: she started doing "micro-walks." Three 10-minute walks per day. Before work, at lunch, after dinner. Total: 30 minutes. Same as one long walk. But spread out. Easier to commit to. Easier to maintain.
That's it. Three changes. No challenge. No hashtag. No Instagram post. Just three boring, sustainable habits.
Biscuit lost 12 pounds in 10 months. He started jumping on the couch again. He started climbing stairs. He started chasing squirrels. Theresa called me last week to tell me he had caught one. "He hasn't caught a squirrel in five years," she said. She was crying. I was crying. Biscuit was probably eating the squirrel. But that's okay. He earned it.
The point is, fitness isn't a month. It's not a challenge. It's not a resolution. It's a lifestyle. It's boring. It's repetitive. It's unglamorous. And it's the only thing that works. So if April didn't work for you, don't worry. April was just a month. What matters is what you do next. And next. And next. One small change. One sustainable habit. One measured meal. One short walk. That's how dogs get fit. Not in a month. In a lifetime.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
