Reading Canine Body Language During Play and Learning

We watch our dogs constantly, don't we?

We see them play, learn, interact with the world around them. We think we're reading them fairly well.

But are we really seeing what they're showing us?

Most of us have learned to spot the obvious signs. The wagging tail means happy. The tucked tail means scared. The growl means back off.

Except canine body language is so much more nuanced than that. And nowhere is this more important than during the moments we think are positive: play and learning.

These are the times we assume our dogs are having fun, engaging willingly, enjoying themselves. Sometimes they are. But sometimes they're showing us something completely different, and we're missing it entirely.

I've spent decades watching dogs during training sessions and play. Not just the "problem" dogs, but all dogs. The ones their guardians describe as eager, willing, perfectly behaved.

And here's what I've learned: some of the most stressed dogs I've ever seen were the ones going through the motions beautifully.

They were complying. But they weren't comfortable.

When we don't read canine body language accurately during play and learning, we miss the moment our dog stops enjoying themselves and starts enduring. We mistake tolerance for happiness. We confuse shut down for calm.

And our dogs? They keep showing us. They keep communicating. We just don't always speak their language.

Let me tell you about my little Darcie. She's what I'd call pressure sensitive she's also pretty pessimistic. She is worried about novelty because she simply doesn't know if that novelty is safe. 

When she's learning something new, if I push even slightly too hard, her entire body changes. Her ears go back. Her mouth closes tight. Her eyes get soft and worried. She'll still do what I'm asking, mind you. She's a good girl, desperate to please.

But she's not learning. She's coping.

I know when Darcie is learning, because her entire body is moving with joy, she's wagging and capering, playing and interested. If I tried to teach when she's not in this state - that would be pressure. 

Chips was the same. Beautiful, sensitive soul who would try so hard to understand what I wanted. But when the pressure was on, when he felt he was getting it wrong, his body would tell me everything.

Stiff movements. Averted gaze. Lip licking. Yawning. All the classic stress signals that so many people miss. Or freezing and looking away, which poor quality dog trainers can interpret as stubbornness or unwillingness. 

Then there's Holly. My tiny rescue who came to me already shut down from her past.

She wasn't calm. She was frozen.

Shut down doesn't always look like obvious distress. 

It can look like stillness. Like a dog who doesn't move much, doesn't protest, just... exists in whatever situation you put them in.

Holly's body language was so subtle. No wagging tail, but no tucked tail either. Just held low and still. Eyes that looked away rather than at me. A body that never quite relaxed, even when nothing was happening.

Learning to undo shut down is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. 

I had a dog who was broken and  I could give her what she actually needed: space, choice, time and love. 

Now Foxy. My bold little tiny girl. She's a completely different story.

Foxy moves through the world with this energy that looks like confidence. And in many ways, it is. She's braver than her size suggests. She'll investigate new things, engage with challenges, throw herself into activities.

But here's the thing about bold dogs: they can mask stress really well.

Boldness isn't the same as being pressure-free. 

Foxy will push through discomfort because she's driven and engaged. But that doesn't mean the discomfort isn't there.

During learning, I have to watch her body language carefully. Is her tail up because she's happy, or is it up because she's anxious and aroused? Is she moving quickly because she's excited, or because she's frantic?

The difference is subtle. It's in the tension around her eyes. The tightness of her mouth. The way her body moves, fluid versus rigid.

Bold dogs like Foxy need us to read their canine body language just as carefully as sensitive dogs. Maybe more so, because they'll keep going long past the point where they should stop.

Foxy has also learned to go forward if something worries her. I know she's scared but to other people she looks confrontational. She has a fear and has become excellent at dealing with it, her coping strategy is move forward and make lots of noise. If I didn't know, if I wasn't educated, aware and empathetic the feeling underneath her behaviour could easily go unnoticed. 

Play should be joyful, shouldn't it? Relaxed. Fun for everyone involved.

Except play can go wrong so quickly, and if we're not reading canine body language accurately, we might not notice until it's too late.

Real play has a particular quality to it. Bodies are loose. Movement is bouncy. There are frequent pauses where dogs check in with each other. Role reversal happens naturally. Both dogs can walk away without the other pursuing.

Compare that to play that's tipping into stress or conflict. Bodies get stiffer. Movement becomes more intense, more driven. One dog might be trying to disengage whilst the other won't let them. The "play" becomes one-sided.

I watch Darcie playing with Foxy sometimes. Darcie is bigger, but she's also more careful. When Foxy gets too intense, Darcie's body language changes. She slows down. She creates distance. She might turn her head away or freeze briefly.

Those are all signals saying "that's enough for now." 

We sometimes hear the phrase 'they will sort it out' but that's not always true. 

Part of our job as guardians is to read the canine communication happening and advocate for the dog who needs support.

Many training classes are full of stressed dogs whose guardians have no idea.

Not because the guardians don't care. They do. They just haven't learned to read the subtle canine body language that says "I'm struggling."

Here are the signals we miss most often:

• Lip licking. Not the big, obvious licks after eating. The quick little tongue flicks that happen during training. That's stress, not hunger.
• Yawning. When your dog yawns during a training session, they're not tired. They're releasing tension.
• Looking away. When a dog is overwhelmed they may just look away and hope the pressure goes away. 
• Sniffing the ground. Sudden intense interest in the ground during training? That's often a displacement behaviour. Your dog is overwhelmed and self-soothing.
• Slow responses. When a dog who usually responds quickly suddenly takes ages to do what you've asked, that's not stubbornness. That's cognitive function shutting down under pressure.
• Hard eyes. This one's subtle, but once you learn to see it, you can't miss it. The eyes get a fixed, hard quality. The softness disappears. If you want to understand more about what dog eye contact reveals, this post explores it further. 

This is the part that's hardest to accept.

Sometimes our dogs do exactly what we ask, perfectly, whilst feeling absolutely terrible about it.

Compliance isn't the same as willingness. Canine body language during learning can show us a dog who is shut down, stressed, or simply enduring, even whilst they're performing beautifully.

Here's something fascinating about canine communication that doesn't get talked about enough.

We see what we expect to see. And we miss what we're not looking for.

If we believe our dog is having fun, we interpret their body language through that lens. The stress signals get explained away. "Oh, they're just excited." "They always do that." "They're fine, look, they're still playing."

This is cognitive bias at work. Understanding how our own thinking patterns affect what we notice in our dogs is crucial. We filter canine body language through our assumptions, and sometimes those assumptions are wrong.

I've done it. We all have. We want our dogs to be happy, so we see happiness even when the body language is showing us something else entirely.

The shift comes when we're willing to question our interpretations. To pause and ask: what is my dog actually showing me right now, not what do I want them to be showing me?

Once you start truly reading canine body language during play and learning, you can't go back to not seeing it.

And that means things have to change.

You might need to end play sessions earlier than you planned. Not because anyone did anything wrong, but because the body language is telling you one dog needs a break.

You might need to make training sessions shorter, simpler, lower pressure. Not because your dog can't handle more, but because their body language is showing you they're done.

You might need to advocate for your dog in situations where other people think everything's fine. Because you can read the subtle signs they're missing.

This isn't about being overprotective or limiting your dog's experiences. It's about respecting what they're telling you through the only language they have.

Learning to read canine body language during play and learning isn't a one-time skill you acquire. It's an ongoing practice of paying attention.

Of watching not just what your dog does, but how they do it. Of noticing the subtle shifts that happen before the obvious ones. Of being willing to see what's actually there, rather than what you hoped to see.

Start by just observing. Don't interpret yet. Just notice. What does your dog's body look like when they're truly relaxed and happy? What changes when they're uncertain? When they're stressed?

Notice the difference between loose and stiff. Between fluid movement and mechanical. Between eyes that are soft and eyes that are hard.

The more you watch, the more you'll see. And the more you see, the better you can respond to what your dog is actually communicating.

Because that's what canine body language is. Communication. And communication only works when someone is listening.

Are you listening?

If you're realising that you've been missing your dog's subtle signals, you're not alone. Most of us have been taught to focus on behaviour rather than communication.

In my Skool community, we explore how to read dogs more accurately, understand nervous system responses, and create learning environments where dogs can communicate honestly without pressure.

It's a space for guardians who want to truly see their dogs, not just train them.