The Naughtiest Age of a Dog

Oh man, if you’ve ever lived with a dog, truly lived with one from puppyhood through their various phases, you know there’s a period that tests your patience, your sanity, and the structural integrity of your furniture like no other. People often ask, “When are dogs the most naughty?” And while every dog is an individual, with their own quirks and timelines, my unequivocal answer, based on surviving this with several furry cohabitants? It’s undeniably during their adolescence. Yeah, that awkward, gangly, frustrating, but sometimes hilariously goofy stage.

Now, adolescence in dogs isn’t a single birthday. It’s more of a developmental phase, much like the human teenage years. Generally, you’re looking at somewhere between six months and two years of age, sometimes a bit longer for larger breeds that mature slower. Think of it this way: they’re past the tiny, helpless, ‘oh, they don’t know any better’ puppy stage, but they haven’t yet settled into the calm, reliable adult dog you dream of. They’re in this weird, in-between land where their brains haven’t quite caught up to their bodies or their burgeoning confidence.

Why is this the peak naughtiness period? Simple. Hormones are surging. Their confidence is growing – maybe too much! They have boundless energy, like tiny furry rockets fueled by chaos and poor decisions. And critically, this is when they really start testing boundaries. Everything you thought you taught them as a puppy? Suddenly, it’s up for negotiation. Or just plain ignored. Selective hearing becomes an Olympic sport for them. You call their name? Crickets. Is there a fascinating leaf or, even better, a suspicious-looking discarded chicken bone ten feet away? Instantly alert, pulling like a freight train, deaf to your increasingly frantic calls.

Let me tell you about my Golden Retriever, Finn, during this glorious phase. Sweetest puppy, you’d think. Learnt ‘sit’, ‘stay’, ‘come’ beautifully. Then hit maybe eight months. Boom. Suddenly, ‘stay’ meant ‘stay until something more interesting happens’, which was usually about 0.7 seconds later. ‘Come’ meant ‘maybe, if I feel like it, and you don’t sound too desperate, and there aren’t any squirrels’. He discovered the sheer joy of counter-surfing. We’d turn our backs for one second, literally one second, and he’d have a whole loaf of bread, wrapper and all, halfway down his gullet. The look on his face wasn’t guilt, mind you. It was pure, unadulterated ‘Worth it!’

Chewing? Oh, don’t even get me started. Puppy teething is one thing – they’re babies, their mouths hurt. Adolescent chewing is… different. It feels more experimental. More destructive. Like they’re conducting scientific research on the tensile strength of your skirting boards, the chewability of remote controls, the structural integrity of sofa cushions (Finn’s preferred subject, apparently). My favorite pair of boots? Gnawed beyond recognition. A corner of the coffee table? Redecorated with tooth marks. It’s like they suddenly look at your living room and think, “Hmm, what’s the most expensive, irreplaceable item in here? Yeah, let’s go with that.”

And the energy! Puppies have bursts then crash. Adolescents have energy that is relentless. You think you’ve walked them for miles, played fetch until your arm aches? They get home, shake it off, and start doing zoomies around the living room, skidding on rugs, knocking into furniture. It’s like they’re powered by miniature, high-octane generators. If they don’t get enough physical and mental stimulation, oh boy, do they invent their own fun. And their version of fun usually involves things you absolutely do not want them doing. Digging craters in the yard, staging elaborate escape attempts, engaging in dramatic wrestling matches with imaginary foes (or the furniture again).

It’s also a time when their confidence can manifest in less-than-ideal ways, especially around other dogs. That sweet, slightly hesitant puppy who used to just want to play? They might suddenly decide they need to puff out their chest, maybe get a bit growly, start asserting themselves. It’s often clumsy and sometimes downright awkward, like a human teenager trying too hard to be cool. Socialization needs to continue through this period, but you have to be smart about it, managing interactions to keep them positive.

One of the most challenging aspects of this phase is the perceived ‘regression’ in training. You spent weeks, months, instilling basic obedience. Now, it feels like they’ve forgotten everything. They haven’t, not really. They just have more impulses, more distractions, and they are testing you. Are you serious about that boundary? Or was it just a suggestion? This is where consistency is absolutely key, and arguably the hardest thing for us humans to maintain when we’re tired, frustrated, and just want five minutes of peace without someone trying to eat the baseboards. You have to reinforce the rules, gently but firmly, every single time. Like, every single time. It’s exhausting, I won’t lie. It requires the patience of a saint and the determination of a seasoned drill sergeant, but you’re drilling with treats and praise instead of push-ups.

Breed definitely plays a role, of course. My high-drive working breed mutt, Sadie? Her adolescence was a whirlwind of chasing things (including her own tail with alarming intensity), trying to herd the cats (who were not impressed), and an insatiable need to chew on anything remotely wood-like. A friend’s Basset Hound? His naughtiness was more about stubborn refusal to move, selective deafness reaching new heights, and an incredible ability to find the stinkiest thing in the yard to roll in. It’s the intensity of the behaviors, the sheer volume of the poor decisions, that defines this period, regardless of the specific antics.

It’s easy to get discouraged during this time. You look at this creature who seems determined to dismantle your home and wonder if you made a mistake. You see pictures of perfectly behaved adult dogs on Instagram and feel like a failure. But it’s crucial to remember: this is a developmental phase. It’s normal. It’s temporary. It’s a sign they are growing, exploring their world, figure out their place in it, and figuring out who they are. Much like raising a human teenager, you gotta ride the waves, provide structure, offer guidance, pick your battles, and dole out endless love, even when they’ve just shredded your favorite book.

What helps? Exercise. More than you think they need. Mental stimulation. Training sessions, puzzle toys, nose work games. It tires their brains as well as their bodies. Management. Seriously. Put things away. Crate train if you haven’t already, it gives them a safe space and protects your belongings when you can’t supervise. Tethers can be your friend indoors. Dog gates? Essential. Make it harder for them to make bad choices. And most importantly, patience. Deep breaths. Remember the cute puppy they were, and imagine the wonderful adult they will be. Celebrate the small victories – when they actually come when called the first time, when they choose to chew their toy instead of the rug, when they have a calm moment just resting near you. Those moments are golden.

The naughtiest age of a dog is a chaotic, challenging period, full of boundary-pushing, boundless energy, and bewildering decisions on their part. But it’s also a time of immense growth. Getting through it, with your sense of humor mostly intact and your house not completely destroyed, strengthens the bond you have. You learn so much about your dog, and honestly, about yourself and your capacity for resilience. It’s a messy, noisy, sometimes maddening rite of passage, but it’s also just a chapter. And the calm, well-adjusted adult dog that emerges on the other side? They make every chewed slipper and every exasperated sigh worth it. Absolutely worth it.