Why I Rarely Accept New Friend Requests on Social Media

I keep my social circle pretty small and intentional, and I wanted to explain why — just so no one takes it the wrong way.

 

Most of my Facebook friends (about 500 or so) are connected to the dog rescue world in one way or another. These days, that’s really what social media is for me — work, writing, and sharing articles. It’s more of a professional space than a personal one.

 

The truth is, the people I’m closest to don’t really talk with me on Facebook anyway. We text. We call. We meet up. A few friends live out of state, so we use Messenger sometimes — but that’s about it.

 

A few years ago, I lost my best friend. We’d known each other since we were 15 and talked almost every day. Losing him changed a lot for me. It made me value real conversations and direct connections even more. Life’s too short to let meaningful relationships live only on a timeline.

 

Over time, I also stepped away from using social media as a place to debate or vent. Like a lot of people, I used to get caught up in politics online — watching the news, getting fired up, arguing my point. And honestly? Nobody wins those battles. You just slowly lose friends over things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of your life.

 

So I made a choice: peace over arguments.

 

Now I keep my “news bandwidth” small on purpose. I skim headlines once a day, let AI summarize what I need to know, and skip the outrage cycle. No doom-scrolling, no getting dragged into fights, no letting the internet decide my mood. It’s been one of the best decisions I’ve made. I’m calmer. Happier. More present. I spend more time on things that actually matter.

 

And that’s really the heart of it.

 

Social media, for me, is just a simple tool — sharing dog-related work, articles, and updates. Not debates, not drama, not politics.

 

So if I don’t accept a friend request, please don’t take it personally. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you or don’t want to connect. It just means I try to keep this space focused and quiet.

If you ever want to talk, reach out directly. I’d much rather have a real conversation than another notification.

Dogs and the 15 Minute City: Why Severely Constraining Human Movement May Echo Canine Behavioral Dysregulation

As a professional dog behavior consultant with over two decades of experience assessing and supporting dogs in varied environments—from urban apartments to rural working settings—I spend much of my time examining how environmental structure influences behavioral organization, flexibility, and long-term stability. Domestic dogs, shaped by both evolutionary history and modern management, are highly sensitive to constraints on agency, exploration, and choice. When opportunities for self-directed movement and engagement are systematically limited, predictable patterns emerge: heightened frustration, reduced behavioral variability, and, over time, erosion of regulatory capacity.
Recent urban planning concepts like the “15-minute city” aim to create neighborhoods where daily needs are accessible within a short walk or bike ride. The intention—reducing traffic congestion, pollution, and car dependency—is understandable. Yet some implementations, such as traffic-filter systems that financially penalize driving through certain residential roads (as trialed in Oxford, UK, and discussed in other cities), introduce structured disincentives to free movement beyond designated zones. While residents are not physically barred from leaving, repeated fines for non-approved routes create a form of soft constraint that may, over time, reshape how people interact with their broader environment.
From an ethological perspective, this matters. Both dogs and humans are mammals whose behavioral systems evolved in contexts requiring extensive movement, exploration, and adaptive choice. Severe, persistent limits on agency and opportunity tend to produce similar regulatory challenges across species.Constrained Agency in Dogs: A Familiar PatternIn canine behavior literature, prolonged restriction of movement and choice is one of the most reliable predictors of dysregulation. Dogs confined to small spaces with minimal outlets for exploration, foraging, or social engagement frequently develop repetitive behaviors, heightened reactivity, or withdrawal—patterns that reflect accumulated motivational load rather than inherent temperament (Beerda et al., 1999; Overall, 2013).Ethologists such as Konrad Lorenz and Niko Tinbergen described behavior as organized sequences that must reach functional completion to maintain regulatory balance. When pathways are repeatedly blocked—whether by leashes, barriers, or management routines—unresolved tension builds. Modern research frames this as “entrapment”: activated motivational systems (exploration, social approach, avoidance) unable to complete their loops. The result is not simply boredom but progressive reduction in behavioral flexibility and recovery capacity.Enrichment research consistently shows that restoring agency—through expanded access to varied environments, choice-based activities, and opportunities for self-directed exploration—supports recovery and stability far more effectively than suppression or confinement alone. Dogs with regular access to larger, varied spaces and off-leash exploratory time tend to show greater resilience, lower reactivity, and more efficient return to baseline after challenge.Applying These Principles to Human EnvironmentsHumans evolved in landscapes requiring extensive daily movement: hunting, gathering, and ranging across varied terrain. Anthropological evidence suggests pre-agricultural humans routinely traveled several miles per day, encountering diverse stimuli and exercising high degrees of agency in route selection and activity pacing (Coppinger & Coppinger, 2001; Miklósi, 2015). Modern sedentary lifestyles already represent a dramatic departure from this ancestral pattern, and additional structured disincentives to free movement risk compounding the deviation.
When movement is financially penalized or routed through prescribed channels, individuals may gradually reduce discretionary travel—not because they lack desire, but because the cost-benefit calculation shifts. Over years, this can mean fewer spontaneous outings, reduced exposure to novel environments, and diminished opportunities for the kind of self-directed exploration that supports cognitive flexibility and stress regulation in mammals.
Behavioral science suggests that chronic low-level constraints on agency can accumulate similarly to the “summation” processes observed in dogs: small, repeated interruptions of expected freedom that elevate internal load without obvious acute crisis. The result may not be dramatic breakdown but gradual erosion of resilience—higher baseline irritability, reduced tolerance for novelty, or withdrawal from broader social and environmental engagement.Potential Long-Term EffectsNo one suggests 15-minute city planning creates kennel-like confinement. Yet the underlying principle—using disincentives to shape movement patterns—mirrors management techniques that, in dogs, reliably increase frustration and reduce welfare when applied without sufficient compensatory opportunity. In canines, we know that even well-intentioned constraints (leash laws, apartment living, busy owner schedules) must be balanced with robust outlets for agency and exploration to prevent dysregulation.
For humans, the risks are harder to quantify, but ethological reasoning suggests caution. Mammals generally thrive when behavioral options remain broad and self-directed. Structured reduction of those options, even gradually and with good intent, may carry unintended regulatory costs over time—particularly in populations already experiencing sedentary lifestyles, social isolation, or economic stress.Balancing Intent and ImpactUrban density and environmental concerns are real challenges. Solutions that encourage walking, cycling, and local community without financially penalizing broader movement may better align with biological needs. Cities could prioritize genuine affordances—safe green corridors, accessible public transport, and truly inviting local amenities—rather than disincentives that risk mirroring the constraint ecologies we work hard to avoid in canine management.As a dog behavior professional, my concern is not political but biological: systems that systematically constrain agency and exploration tend to produce regulatory burden across mammalian species. Dogs teach us that freedom of movement, choice, and access to varied environments are not luxuries but functional requirements for behavioral health. Applying that lesson to human urban design seems prudent. Bibliography
Beerda, B., Schilder, M. B. H., van Hooff, J. A. R. A. M., de Vries, H. W., & Mol, J. A. (1999). Chronic stress in dogs subjected to social and spatial restriction. Applied Animal Behaviour Science, 66(4), 307–327. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0168-1591(99)00067-7Coppinger, R., & Coppinger, L. (2001). Dogs: A startling new understanding of canine origin, behavior and evolution. Scribner. Miklósi, Á. (2015). Dog behaviour, evolution, and cognition (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. 

The Hidden Structure of Animal Rescue: Why Compassion Alone Isn't Enough

Animal rescue captures the heart. Stories of dedicated volunteers pulling dogs from dire situations, nursing them back to health, and finding them forever homes inspire millions. Shelters celebrate high adoption rates, "no-kill" achievements, and heroic saves. Yet behind these moments lies a harder reality: animal rescue in the United States operates as a public service system, not just a charitable endeavor. Like fire departments, public housing, or waste management, it's shaped by legal mandates, fluctuating demand, limited resources, and structural constraints that drive outcomes more than individual effort or philosophy alone. Understanding this system perspective is crucial for anyone who loves animals and wants to help effectively. It explains why well-run shelters still face crowding, why burnout is common among staff, and why some reforms fall short despite good intentions.1. A Mandated Public Service, Not Optional CharityAnimal control and sheltering are legal obligations. Municipal agencies must respond to reports of strays, enforce leash laws and nuisance ordinances, impound dangerous or abandoned animals, and hold them for required periods (typically 3–7 days for owner reclamation). Many private nonprofits operate under government contracts that inherit these duties. This means intake isn't discretionary. Shelters can't turn away animals without risking legal or contractual violations. Demand arrives unpredictably—driven by seasonal breeding, economic hardship, evictions, or natural disasters—and the system must absorb it. Unlike pure charities that can limit services, rescue operates under mandate, making it a civic responsibility to manage risks to public safety, animal welfare, and community health.2. Flow Dynamics: It's About Movement Over TimeWe often judge shelters by snapshots: how many animals are there today, or what percentage were adopted last month. But shelters are flow systems, not static warehouses. Animals enter (intake), stay for a variable period (length of stay), and exit through adoption, transfer, return to owner, or euthanasia. The population at any moment is simply:
Current animals = intake rate × average length of stay
Even modest increases in length of stay—caused by mandatory legal holds, medical recovery, behavioral assessment, or waiting for foster space—can cause rapid overcrowding under steady intake. Conversely, shortening average stay (through faster processing, more partnerships, or efficient adoptions) can stabilize or reduce population without reducing intake.
Throughput (successful exits per week or month) is the key limiter, not the size of the shelter, meaning, bigger shelters don't equate to more saved animals. It's constrained by real-world capacity: staff availability, veterinary resources, foster homes, and administrative time. When throughput consistently lags behind intake, accumulation builds. Space tightens, disease risk rises, stress accumulates, and options narrow.3. Capacity Limits: People, Space, and BiologyRescue is extraordinarily labor-intensive. Daily care, cleaning, enrichment, medical support, behavioral observation, and customer service all require sustained human effort. Most tasks can't be automated or skipped without compromising welfare.Under prolonged overload, capacity erodes:

• Staff and volunteers burn out or leave.
• Experienced knowledge is lost.
• Informal shortcuts become routine.
• Recovery takes far longer than degradation.

Physical space and biology impose hard limits too. Higher density increases disease transmission and stress-related behaviors. Prolonged confinement—even in clean, enriched environments—takes a cumulative toll on physical and mental health. These aren't failures of compassion; they're predictable consequences of sustained imbalance between demand and resources.4. Why Good Intentions Hit Structural WallsPeople in rescue are overwhelmingly motivated by love for animals. Yet good intent doesn't neutralize structural limits. High moral commitment can even worsen strain—encouraging overextension, normalizing crisis conditions, and delaying recognition that the system is breaking.
Many criticized outcomes (high euthanasia, long stays, crowding) reflect constrained throughput rather than callousness. Conversely, apparent "success" stories can mask building internal pressure that surfaces later as staff turnover or disease outbreaks. Blaming individuals or single organizations obscures the real drivers. Systems behave according to their design and loading over time. Exhortations to "try harder" or "care more" rarely move the needle when binding constraints remain unaddressed.5. What This Means for Supporters and AdvocatesSeeing rescue as a constrained public service shifts how we can help most effectively:

• Focus upstream — Prevention (accessible spay/neuter, pet-friendly housing policies, owner education) reduces intake at the source more sustainably than downstream rescue.
• Support capacity — Advocate for stable funding that prioritizes staff wages, veterinary partnerships, foster recruitment, and infrastructure—things that directly increase throughput.
• Be realistic — Recognize that difficult outcomes sometimes prevent greater suffering when genuine options are exhausted.
• Honor the workers — They carry heavy moral weight in impossible conditions. Gratitude and realistic expectations matter.

Animal rescue isn't failing because people stopped caring. It's straining because society asks it to manage an open-ended public risk with bounded resources and non-negotiable constraints. Real progress requires aligning structure with reality—building systems that can sustainably handle the load we collectively impose.
Next time you adopt, donate, or volunteer, remember: you're supporting not just individual animals, but a vital public service that deserves understanding and structural support.