Don't accept your dog's admiration as conclusive evidence that

Ann Landers, the wise voice of counsel to generations, once spoke with clarity and wit: “Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful.” At first, this saying stirs laughter, for all who have lived with a dog know the boundless loyalty and unquestioning love these creatures give. Yet beneath the humor lies a lesson both sobering and profound: admiration, especially when it is unconditional, must not be mistaken for proof of virtue. True greatness lies not in how others—be they human or beast—see us, but in how we truly are.

The origin of this thought comes from Landers’ lifelong role as an advisor to the troubled, the confused, and the proud. She saw how easily people deceived themselves with the flattery of others, or with the illusions of their own worth. The dog, ever faithful, became her symbol for uncritical devotion: its tail wags no matter your failures, its eyes shine no matter your flaws. Landers, with a sharp stroke of wisdom, warned that such blind adoration, though comforting, must not lull us into believing we are better than we truly are.

To say that one should not accept the dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence is to call us to self-examination. The dog loves without judgment, but the world of men does not. The dog forgives endlessly, but life does not. If we measure ourselves only by the loyalty of our animals, we risk becoming complacent, blind to our shortcomings, and deaf to the voices of those who speak truth, even when it is painful. Landers’ wisdom is a call to humility: do not mistake love for proof, or loyalty for virtue.

History offers many mirrors of this truth. Consider Nero, the Roman emperor, adored by flatterers and surrounded by those who dared not speak against him. Though many treated him as a god, his rule was filled with cruelty and waste. His admirers, like dogs wagging their tails, gave him a false sense of greatness. In the end, his empire crumbled, for he believed adoration to be evidence of virtue, when it was not. His story is a warning: admiration without accountability leads to ruin.

Yet there is also a softer side to Landers’ counsel. The dog’s love is pure and comforting, but it must be received as a gift, not as judgment. To know that one is loved unconditionally is a blessing, but to grow truly wonderful, one must measure oneself not by affection alone, but by honesty, integrity, and the works of one’s hands. The dog reminds us of love’s power; Landers reminds us of responsibility. Both truths are needed.

The lesson for us is this: cherish the love you are given, but do not let it blind you. When praised, seek also criticism. When adored, seek also truth. Let admiration warm your heart, but let self-examination guide your steps. For greatness is not proven by the eyes that look upon you with devotion, but by the deeds that endure beyond adoration.

Practically, this means cultivating humility and accountability. Surround yourself not only with those who love you, but with those who challenge you. Ask yourself daily: “Am I truly living as I ought? Or am I simply comforted by the loyalty of those who would love me no matter what?” In work, in family, in community, seek to earn admiration not by demand or assumption, but by consistent acts of honor, compassion, and discipline.

So let Ann Landers’ words echo in your mind: “Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful.” Receive your dog’s love with gratitude, but seek true worth within yourself. For only when admiration is matched by virtue does it become truth. Love without virtue may soothe, but virtue with love makes a life that is both noble and enduring.