Great Danes are clingy dogs. Tips on how to prevent Separation Anxiety.

Woof! Welcome back to Danes Delight, the podcast where everything is better when you're looking down at it from six feet tall. I'm your host, Yeti.  

Today, we're talking about something that hits close to home for a lot of us four-legged friends - separation anxiety. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Yeti, you're a Great Dane, you're practically the size of a small horse, what could you possibly be anxious about? 

 Well, my friends, size doesn't matter when it comes to missing your humans. Trust me, I've done extensive research on this topic, mostly by testing how long I can dramatically sigh by the front door. 

Let me paint you a picture of what separation anxiety looks like in the Yeti household. Picture this: my human reaches for their keys, and suddenly I transform from a dignified Great Dane into what can only be described as a 150-pound furry tornado of emotions. 

The tail tucking, the puppy dog eyes that could melt titanium, the subtle yet effective strategy of becoming a living roadblock between them and the door. You know, standard Tuesday stuff. 

But here's the thing about us Great Danes - we're oversized lap dogs with the emotional complexity of a Shakespearean drama. When our humans leave, it's not just "oh, they'll be back. 

Oh no. It's "WHAT IF THEY'VE BEEN CAPTURED BY SQUIRRELS? WHAT IF THEY'VE FORGOTTEN WHERE THEY LIVE? WHAT IF THEY'VE REALIZED I ATE THEIR FAVORITE SHOE AND THEY'RE NEVER COMING BACK?" 

I've tried various coping mechanisms over the years. There's the classic "rearrange the furniture with my body" technique. Nothing says "I missed you" quite like a coffee table moved three feet to the left and a Great Dane-sized impression on the couch. 

Then there's my personal favorite: the "redecorate with toilet paper" method. It's artistic, it's expressive, and it shows your humans that you've been thinking about interior design while they were gone. 

But let's get serious for a moment - and by serious, I mean as serious as a dog who once got his head stuck in a cat door can be. Separation anxiety is real, and it affects a lot of dogs, especially us Danes who form powerful bonds with our families.

We're not just pets; we're furry family members who happen to shed more and have questionable taste in what constitutes food. 

The first step in dealing with separation anxiety is understanding that it's not about being "bad" or "destructive." It's about genuine distress. 

When I turn my human's bedroom into what looks like a pillow explosion, I'm not being vindictive. I'm expressing my feelings through interpretive home decoration. It's art. 

Now, there are some practical strategies that have helped me and my fellow anxious canines. First, there's the desensitization approach. This is where your humans practice leaving for very short periods - like, going to check the mailbox for a short time. 

At first, I thought this was just my human were being indecisive. "Are we going for a walk? No? Okay, I'll just wait here and practice my concerned face."

The key is making departures and arrivals low-key. No big emotional goodbyes that sound like they're heading off to war against the vacuum cleaner army. Just a casual "see you later," like they're going to the kitchen for a snack. 

Though let's be honest, if they said they were going to the kitchen for snacks and then left the house, that would create a whole different kind of trust issue. 

Exercise is huge for managing anxiety. A tired Great Dane is a good Great Dane, as they say. Well, I say that. My humans usually say something more along the lines of "Yeti, please stop using Pippens the cat as a pillow." 

However, the point stands: physical activity helps burn off that nervous energy. I recommend the "chase your tail until you remember you're too dignified for that" workout, 

 followed by the "sprint around the backyard like you're being chased by invisible mailmen" routine. 

Mental stimulation is just as important—puzzle toys, treat-dispensing gadgets, anything that keeps your brain busy while your humans are away. 

I have a particular fondness for a toy that makes me work for my kibble. It's like a video game, but with food rewards and significantly less hand-eye coordination required.

Creating a safe space is another game-changer. For me, it's a corner of the living room where I can see out the window and keep an eye on the neighborhood for any suspicious squirrel activity. 

 I've got my favorite blanket, a toy that smells appropriately like slobber, and a strategic view of the driveway for maximum human-detection efficiency. 

Some dogs benefit from leaving a piece of clothing that smells like their human. I prefer my human's bathrobe, which I may or may not have claimed as my own. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and I'm pretty sure that applies to bathrobes, too. 

Now, if you're dealing with severe separation anxiety, don't hesitate to talk to a professional. There's no shame in getting help - I've seen a dog behaviorist myself. 

Lovely person, very understanding about my interpretive furniture arrangement phase. Sometimes, anti-anxiety medication might be recommended, and that's okay too. We wouldn't judge a human for needing help with anxiety, so why would we judge ourselves? 

The most important thing to remember is that overcoming separation anxiety is a process. There will be setbacks. 

There will be days when you accidentally eat only the left shoes from every pair in the closet. Don't ask me why it's always the left ones - even I don't understand my artistic process. 

But there will also be victories. The first time you make it through a short departure without needing to redecorate. 

The first time you greet your human at the door with a wagging tail instead of evidence of your emotional breakdown scattered across the living room. These moments are worth celebrating, preferably with treats and belly rubs. 

Remember, our humans love us, even when we're at our most anxious. They understand that our dramatic reactions come from a place of love and attachment. 

After all, they chose to live with a creature who can accidentally knock over a lamp just by being enthusiastic about dinner time. 

So whether you're a Great Dane like me, or a Chihuahua with Napoleon complex, or anything in between, know that you're not alone in feeling anxious when your humans leave. 

 We're all just doing our best to navigate this world of doorknobs we can't operate and treat jars we can't open without assistance. 

And to all the humans listening - thank you for your patience with us. 

Thank you for understanding that when you come home to find your couch cushions rearranged into what can only be described as a fort, it's not destruction, it's expression. It's our way of saying, "I missed you so much I remodeled." 

That's all for today's episode of Danes Delight. Remember, life is better when you approach it with the enthusiasm of a Great Dane seeing a tennis ball and the wisdom to know that not every delivery truck poses a genuine threat to your household. 

Don't forget to subscribe to our podcast - seriously, the algorithm is almost as confusing as why humans insist on putting food in bowls we can clearly just eat directly from the bag. 

 And visit gr dane dot com for more information, tips, and probably some pictures of me looking majestic, which, let's be honest, is most of the time. 

Until next time, keep your tails wagging and your separation anxiety manageable. This is Yeti, signing off from Danes Delight, where every dog has their day, and some of us are just tall enough to steal food off the counter while having it.