What's Hanging in the Balance?

Let’s be honest: the first time most of us see a dog in a grooming sling, we stifle a giggle. There’s something irresistibly comical about a 70-pound German Shepherd suspended like a hairy piñata, legs dangling, expression screaming, “I regret all my life choices that led to this moment.” We laugh, we snap the photo, and we post it with the caption “Spa day!” But behind those soulful, betrayed eyes, something far less funny might be brewing: learned helplessness. Yes, that cheery hammock-of-doom you bought to “make grooming easier” can, for some dogs, become a fast-track ticket to a canine existential crisis.

What is learned helplessness, anyway? Picture this: you’re repeatedly put in a situation where nothing you do—no wiggling, no growling, no Oscar-worthy dramatic air snaps will make the bad thing stop. Eventually your brain goes, “Welp, resistance is futile,” and you just… shut down. Psychologists first demonstrated this in the 1960s with dogs and mild shocks (don’t worry, ethics boards lost their minds, and that study is now a cautionary tale). The poor pups who couldn’t escape the shocks eventually stopped even trying when they later had the chance. They just lay there, accepting their fate like furry lumps. Fast-forward to 2025, and we’ve replaced the shocks with forced suspension in a nylon sling while someone attacks your nails with clippers. The sling experience, from a dog’s TikTok review: “0/10 would not recommend."

Pros: occasionally get treats.

Cons: suspended in the air like cheap supermarket ham, unable to flee, the groomer has full access to no-no places. Developed a sudden interest in Buddhism and the sweet release of death. ”For dogs who are already anxious about grooming, the sling is basically a straight jacket crossed with a medieval torture device—except the torture is someone trying to make you smell like coconut mango. You can’t move your legs meaningfully, you can’t turn away, and you can’t even collapse dramatically to the floor in protest. Every normal canine coping mechanism is stripped away. After a few rounds, many dogs go from “wriggly gremlin” to “limp noodle of quiet despair” in record time. That’s the textbook definition of learned helplessness kicking in. Signs your dog has joined the sling haters club:

• Walks into the grooming room, sees the sling, and instantly lies down like a fainting goat.

• Stares at the wall with the vacant expression of someone who’s accepted that the void is coming for us all.

• Stops eating treats mid-groom because even food has lost its meaning.

But I need to groom my Doodle/Doberman/Muppet! Relax, there are alternatives.

1. Start with muzzle training for the really uncooperative canine. This can keep you, your groomer, and your vet safe during procedures.

2. Teach your dog to enjoy grooming, handling, and procedures through cooperative care. Starting young will help your puppy with less stress and will take less time. For puppers that already have an aversion to handling, it can take longer, but not necessarily. Some dogs are just grateful to have a say in the horrible things you are about to do to them and the awful smell you are about to inflict on them.

3. Prepare your dog for grooming and vet appointments in advance. Book an appointment just to come and have a bit of fun. Meet the vet, meet the groomer, and let's party it up like it's New Year's Eve and we are heading into the year of the dog!

The bottom line...Grooming slings were a very ill-thought-out invention. If your dog starts looking like a Victorian orphan who’s seen some things every time the nail trimmers appear, it might be time to work on cooperative care with them before your dogs unionize and demand better working conditions. Your dog trusts you to not turn spa day into an emotional trauma reenactment. Let’s keep those tails wagging—even if the tail in question is currently dangling two feet off the ground, plotting its quiet revenge.