Part 8: The Dogs of Cusco — What They Remember That We Forgot
- Heather Strom
- Jul 30
- 4 min read
Peru Initiations: A Journey of Remembering & Becoming
There was one thing about Cusco that stood out to me immediately.
The dogs.
They were everywhere.
Wandering the streets. Moving through the city with purpose. Crossing roads, greeting one another, navigating crowds with ease.
And yet…
They were not what we would consider “stray” dogs.
They were not fearful. They were not reactive. They were not aggressive or searching desperately for food.
They were calm. Confident. Balanced.
And, perhaps most surprisingly…
They were clearly loved.
Dogs Being Dogs
At 11,000 feet above sea level, Cusco carries a unique rhythm of life.
And within that rhythm, the dogs are simply… part of it.
I noticed something fascinating.
Each morning, these dogs would leave their homes and head out into the city.
Not wandering aimlessly.
But with intention.
They had places to go. Routes to follow. Other dogs to meet.
It felt as though they had their own schedules.
Their own social lives.
Their own sense of purpose.
And at the end of the day?
They returned home.
To their people. To their food. To rest.
Only to do it all again the next day.
A Different Kind of Care
What struck me most was how well cared for these dogs were.
Many wore coats.
Some were clearly groomed—terriers with neat clips, poodles with maintained coats.
I saw an incredible variety of breeds:
Mexican hairless dogs. Terriers. Golden Retrievers. Pugs. Doodles. Even working breeds like Belgian Malinois, Mudis, and Basenjis.
These were not neglected animals.
They were simply… free.
No Reactivity. No Fear.
As I observed them more closely, something even more remarkable became clear.
There was no chaos.
No barking at every passerby. No lunging at other dogs. No fear of crowds, noise, or fireworks (which were a daily occurrence).
They moved through their environment with complete ease.
They greeted one another naturally.
They disengaged when needed.
They coexisted without competition.
They were, without question, some of the most well-adjusted dogs I had ever seen.
They Knew Their People
Despite their freedom, these dogs were not disconnected from their humans.
In fact, quite the opposite.
They knew exactly who their people were.
If an owner stepped outside, their dog would often run to greet them—joyfully, confidently—and walk alongside them as if they had never left.
There was no confusion.
No insecurity.
No frantic attachment.
Just connection.
A natural, grounded bond.
What If This Is What They Were Meant For?
Watching these dogs stirred something deep within me.
A question.
What if this is closer to how dogs were always meant to live?
Not confined.
Not constantly controlled.
Not over-managed or over-corrected.
But trusted.
Given space to move, explore, socialize, and exist as animals… while still being in relationship with humans.
There was a mutual respect here.
An understanding.
A rhythm.
A Gentle Reflection
It’s easy to look at something like this and feel inspired.
It’s also important to recognize that every culture, environment, and ecosystem is different.
What works in Cusco may not translate directly into life in the United States.
But there is still something here worth paying attention to.
Because what I witnessed wasn’t just about freedom.
It was about liberation.
These dogs were calm not because they were controlled…
But because their lives allowed them to be balanced.
And it invites a deeper reflection:
How much of what we label as “behavior problems” in dogs is actually a reflection of the environments we place them in?
The expectations we have of them?
The ways we limit their natural instincts?
This isn’t about blame.
It’s about awareness and curiosity.
Listening to the Dogs
As someone who has spent years working with dogs—not just behaviorally, but energetically and intuitively—this experience felt like confirmation of something I have always known:
Dogs are incredibly intelligent, adaptable, and self-regulating when given the opportunity.
They don’t need to be micromanaged.
They need to be understood.
They need space to express their nature.
They need humans who are grounded, present, and connected.
This is something I explore deeply through my work with the K9 Spirit Guides—understanding dogs not just as companions, but as teachers and mirrors guiding us back into alignment.
For more information on what I mean, check out my award-winning book: K9 Spirit Guides: The Healing Power of Man's Best Friend
What They Remember
The dogs of Cusco carry a kind of wisdom.
A remembering.
Of what it means to live in balance.
To trust.
To move through the world without fear.
To belong—to themselves, to their environment, and to their humans.
And perhaps that is the real gift they offer:
A glimpse into what is possible.
Not something to copy exactly.
But something to learn from.
Because sometimes, the greatest teachers aren’t the ones trying to lead us.
They are the ones quietly living in a way that reminds us of what we’ve forgotten.
If you feel called to deepen your relationship with your dog and take it to a whole new level, check out my Purple Paw Package available for anyone in the world.
Continue with Peru Journey of Remembering & Becoming with Part 9: The Food of Peru: A Full-Body Homecoming - coming soon!
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