I find myself grappling with a peculiar condition—a profound affection for puppies that often borders on overwhelming.

Greetings! I'm Deb, and my adoration for puppies is so intense that I often feel the urge to hug them tightly—or, in a somewhat exaggerated manner, to playfully hit them in a lighthearted way. Just yesterday, I mentally envisioned myself squishing a little furball, and, well, that was just the beginning.

Now, before you recoil in shock, let me clarify: I possess enough self-awareness to ensure that these thoughts never manifest into actions. Yet, the struggle is real. This feeling has a name: Cute Aggression.

It's that intense wave of affection that overtakes many of us when we encounter an adorable creature. We find ourselves battling the urge to squeeze that cuteness with all our might—pinch it, cuddle it, or even nibble on it (Carly Casella, Science Alert, December 2018).

While my strongest reactions often come from tiny pups, cute aggression isn't limited to them. Research shows it can happen with nearly all baby animals and even humans, particularly those with large, expressive eyes. Think of characters like Simba from The Lion King, Boo from Monsters, Inc., or the adorable pups from 101 Dalmatians—Disney truly knows how to tug at our heartstrings with those big eyes that convey so much emotion. If those eyes are paired with a quivering lip or a tear, we're completely defenseless.

These responses aren't exclusive to puppies alone. Even fully grown dogs can evoke similar feelings in me, just as babies do. Am I really alone in wanting to nibble on the chubby thighs of infants? Surely, I can't be the only one enchanted by their soft skin and adorable rolls! And don't get me started on those tiny puppy toe-beans—I just want to squeeze them until they pop!

Most of us have likely experienced some form of cute aggression at various points in our lives. Humane societies and rescue organizations are well aware of this phenomenon and capitalize on it by pairing images of vulnerable, large-eyed animals with heart-wrenching music. When those advertisements air, I find myself wanting to reach through the screen and give those dogs a gentle poke—not out of malice, but sheer affection. Similar tactics are used by charities focused on helping children in need, expertly evoking that same instinct to help.

If it hasn’t become clear, I feel emotions deeply. Some may have playfully—or perhaps accurately—labeled me as someone prone to intense passion. Whatever I experience, I do so wholeheartedly. If I love something, it consumes me; if I dislike something, my stance is firm. A hint of sadness leads me to tears, and indifference means I've already moved on. This tendency does lead to black-and-white thinking, but I can acknowledge that about myself. It’s no wonder I fall prey to cute aggression; I am an empath who feels utterly powerless in the face of cuteness. I recognize that I may reside at the extreme end of this spectrum, while most others can exercise more restraint when encountering a puppy. As for me? I squeal.

When I see something irresistibly cute, my initial response often involves shaking, as if I've short-circuited from an overload of adorable energy. I clench my fists as if gripping tightly to maintain control. Somehow, this transforms into the fantasy of squeezing those delightfully fluffy faces. My intentions are never violent; it's more akin to playing with stuffed animals—only much more intense. I’ve come close to drawing blood from my own hands from squeezing too hard. Perhaps I should learn to manage this impulse—or at least trim my nails.

Next comes the jaw clenching and playful punches, as my mind and body negotiate a more satisfying release. While I may or may not have playfully punched my boyfriend in excitement when he shares puppy photos, let me reiterate: I have never harmed an animal. In fact, studies indicate that cute aggression serves as a protective response; being overwhelmed by cuteness challenges our survival instincts.

According to research, "cute aggression" may help regulate overwhelming positive feelings. Aragón et al. (2015) found that the perception of cuteness and cute aggression are intertwined with our experience of being emotionally overwhelmed. They suggest that, evolutionarily speaking, it would have been maladaptive to become incapacitated by positive feelings when a vulnerable baby requires care. Thus, this expression of cute aggression may emerge to help manage those feelings (Aragón et al., 2015; Stavropolous and Alba, “It’s so Cute I Could Crush It!”: Understanding Neural Mechanisms of Cute Aggression, Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience, Dec. 2018).

I've shared these sentiments with a dear friend who also suffers from this affliction. However, she doesn't resort to punching; instead, she envisions tossing those scruffy pups playfully against walls and watching them slide down in a harmless heap. I understand her plight. We exchange photos and videos of adorable dogs, fully aware of how the other will react. Sometimes, I indulge in marathon sessions of puppy videos on YouTube, but only when alone—my reactions can get a bit embarrassing, and I've been known to squeal in pitches only dogs can hear.

For example, it’s a dream of mine to be surprised by an abundance of puppies, and when I received a video of someone experiencing just that, my reaction was pure joy:

This was my genuine response, completely unaware that I was being filmed (I would have at least dressed up!). I've dropped hints that this kind of puppy surprise needs to happen for me soon, so if you know me well enough, please make it happen! I promise to shower all the puppies with gentle love and cuddles—none will be harmed, squeezed, or thrown. Just be prepared for the high-pitched squeals.

Given my overflowing affection for puppies, one might assume I own a dog. However, I do not. This choice is partly due to circumstances. I had a beloved beagle-spaniel mix during my childhood, but I missed out on the adorable puppy phase that I'm now yearning for. Freckles—named by my grandmother—was with us for eight years before we had to say goodbye. That was in 1996, and since then, I haven't had a dog. My life has included children, lizards, fish, frogs, and a multitude of hamsters, but none have filled the puppy-shaped void.

My children have been pleading for a dog for years, yet there always seemed to be reasons to postpone that decision. I refuse to bring home an animal unless I can commit fully. However, that time seems to be approaching. With the flexibility of working from home, I could finally dedicate time to a puppy in training, and I could certainly use the company. I've found myself spending countless hours browsing nearby shelters and breeders online, and my screen is in serious jeopardy of being overwhelmed by cuteness.

While I would prefer to adopt, I can't help but crave the joy that comes from snuggling a puppy face that’s just begging for a squeeze.

Until that day arrives, rest assured that your dogs are safe with me. I promise.

Deb, in bed.

For more musings from Deb, follow me and check out previous entries in the series: