What started as a quirky social media trend during the pandemic has blossomed into a nationwide wellness craze: puppy yoga. Marketed as the perfect combination of relaxation and cuteness, the classes blend traditional yoga with playful puppy interactions. The Puppy Yoga Club now runs sessions across Southern California, including Burbank, Venice, Costa Mesa, and Riverside—making it accessible for Cal State San Bernardino students looking for a nearby wellness escape.
Puppy yoga works much like a traditional yoga class, except that a group of puppies roams the room while participants stretch and breathe. Instructors guide students through vinyasa-inspired flows while reminding them to stay present—even as dogs climb onto mats, chase each other, or nap at participants’ feet. Organizers promote it as mutually beneficial: participants gain stress relief, while puppies from shelters and vetted breeders get exposure and, potentially, adoption opportunities.
For many, the draw is irresistible. I’ve tried vinyasa, power, and hot yoga, but never puppy yoga. I arrived 15 minutes early and joined about 20 other participants who were equally eager. After signing a liability waiver, we were told the structure: 30 minutes of yoga, 20 minutes of puppy playtime, and 10 minutes of cool-down stretches.
The yoga itself was challenging—faster-paced and sweatier than expected. But when the staff finally brought out five small puppies, the energy in the room shifted. Nervousness melted away as participants laughed, took photos, and cradled the dogs. “The real practice,” the instructor reminded us, “is learning to stay mindful amid distraction.”
The Ethical Concerns
As adorable as the session was, troubling realities surfaced. With only five puppies for 20 participants, competition for cuddle time was fierce. Some people monopolized the dogs while others barely got a few minutes of interaction. One participant whispered, “I’m not sure if this is right… what the puppies have to go through for this.”
The puppies, rotated through multiple daily sessions, showed signs of fatigue. They alternated between bursts of excitement and moments of stress, occasionally relieving themselves on yoga mats. The $69 price tag felt steep given the limited puppy time, and Yelp reviews—averaging just 2.1 stars—confirmed others had similar frustrations. Common complaints included overworked dogs, poor supervision, and inflated expectations from social media marketing.
Not everyone shared these concerns. Many participants seemed thrilled just to be in the presence of puppies, snapping selfies and laughing throughout class. For them, the Instagram-worthy experience was enough to justify the cost. Others even inquired about adoption opportunities at the end of the session.
Puppy yoga undeniably sparks joy and provides a novel wellness outlet for students juggling academic stress. Yet, the question remains: is the trend as beneficial for the puppies as it is for the people who pay to see them? For some, the answer is unclear.
As I left the class, I felt both lighter and conflicted—grateful for the playfulness of the puppies, but unsettled by the thought of them working back-to-back sessions. Puppy yoga may not just be about balance in poses, but about finding balance between human happiness and animal welfare.