A friend had gifted her a class at Puppies & Yoga, the Dallas yoga studio that merges “the calming effects of yoga with the delightful presence of cute puppies.” Ortega, a 28-year-old Dallas native, had been researching what breed of dog would best complement her lifestyle for a few weeks, and Dalmatians topped the list.
Puppies & Yoga doesn’t announce what breed of dog will be featured on a particular weekend until a few days prior to the classes, so Ortega just picked a weekend date that worked for her. She figured the experience would be reminiscent of the adorable social media posts she’d seen advertising the concept.
When she arrived at the class on June 7, she was one of around 20 yogis. Squishy pink mats were strewn across the Design District studio, and a litter of eight Dalmatian puppies ran throughout the room.
“I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, I think this is a sign,’” Ortega said.
There was a male pup at the event that Ortega “bonded with instantly.” When the class ended, she approached Hailey Lange, a pet groomer and small-scale Dalmatian breeder who lives in Springtown, around 25 miles northwest of Fort Worth, who was sitting off to the studio’s side. Lange told Ortega that a few of the Dalmatians at the event had already been purchased and would be going to their new homes in a few days. The male puppy she’d fallen in love with, though, was still available.
Ortega was able to pick up the dog from Lange on June 13. She named the 8-week-old dog Pogue, inspired by the Netflix show Outer Banks. Three days after bringing Pogue home, though, he became sick. He was lethargic and vomiting.
As a former veterinary technician, Ortega recognized the symptoms of parvovirus right away. If left untreated, parvo has a mortality rate of 90%.
“Once [puppies] start showing symptoms, the death rate is super high, typically within the first 48 hours. If you don't do medical intervention, they’re goners,” she said. “I knew I had to act very quickly as soon as I saw his demeanor.”
Within the next week, nearly all of Pogue’s brothers and sisters, as well as his mother, a 4-year-old Dalmatian named Jewels, would die from the unforgiving virus. Ortega, distraught at the idea of losing a second dog within a year, opened a new credit card and spent $1,677 to nurse Pogue back to health.
One of the tragedies of parvovirus is how pervasive the disease is. It can seep into surfaces and live for months, and attempting to truly nail down where the Dalmatian puppies contracted the illness is an impossible task. That hasn't stopped the parties involved, Lange, Ortega and the Puppies & Yoga management, from casting blame, though.
Lange and Ortega believe that the dogs caught the disease while attending the Dallas yoga class because they had not been exposed to any other environment outside of Lange's home and the vet. When Lange tried to warn the yoga studio, she was stunned by what she felt was a lackluster response. Both women feel that Puppies & Yoga lacked accountability in the wake of the outbreak, which is indicative of a larger culture of carelessness and negligence. In hindsight, both women admitted that a number of red flags were ignored by the breeder and class attendees alike. Lange and Ortega say they have both attempted to post about their experiences with Puppies & Yoga online through Instagram comments and Google reviews, only for the warnings to disappear.
Puppies & Yoga, on the other hand, says the outbreak was the company’s first brush with parvovirus at any of its locations, and that Lange’s career as a pet groomer could have exposed the puppies “to a high risk of cross-contamination from the many outside dogs she comes into contact with.” An email signed “Puppies & Yoga Management Team” also stated that “contrary to our team’s advice,” Lange was seen by staff members allowing the puppies to relieve themselves outdoors prior to their first Friday class, which could have exposed them to outdoor pathogens. Lange denies that this happened.
“When we expressed our concerns about her grooming activity over the phone, she assured us that it would not expose the puppies significantly,” a Puppies & Yoga statement provided to the Observer said. “However, this assurance is now doubtful, as it may have contributed to the puppies’ exposure and the tragic outcome of them contracting parvo.”
The Dalmatian Flick and his puppies, who may have caught parvovirus at the yoga studio.
Hailey Lange
Downward Dog
June was the second time that Lange, who has been breeding Dalmatians for three years, brought a litter of dogs to Puppies & Yoga. She first attended a class last fall and was impressed by what she saw as a transparent process and a unique opportunity for her pups, still too young to go outside and risk being exposed to viruses, to be socialized.She said Puppies & Yoga approached her about the opportunity; she thinks they found her online. A weekend of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday classes came with a $1,300 paycheck. On the weekends, the studio offers up to five classes a day, with short breaks between each class that allow the puppies to rest.
“[The first time I went] they said that they disinfected with these specific products, they said the puppies needed to be up to date on shots,” Lange explained. “We went through all that, and it was very thorough.”
The company’s Dallas expansion started in summer 2024, and at the time Lange first attended a class, the company was operating in only seven other U.S. cities. Now it’s up to nearly 40 cities, and a second studio in Plano opened in mid-July. For $69 a person, yogis of any level can sign up for a 75-minute session that includes 45 minutes dedicated to yoga exercises as the dogs roam the studio, followed by 30 minutes for “cuddles, pictures and playtime.”
“I didn't realize how big of a business this was. I thought it was just in Dallas,” Ortega said.
Because her first experience was a pleasant one, Lange reached back out once she had another litter of puppies ready to be socialized. This time, a few red flags presented themselves, but she said she ignored them at the time. She hadn’t been asked to provide any medical records for the dogs, she said, which she figured was because she’d worked with the studio before.
When she arrived, someone was burning incense in the studio. When she mentioned that the smoke can be problematic for pets, she felt shrugged off. When she tried to ask what types of cleaning products were being used in the studio, she felt ignored.
“I still felt OK,” she said. “I’d raised my concerns, but like I said, the time I had before [had been positive]. I just didn't think anything of it.”
Puppies & Yoga told the Observer that “strict veterinary cleaning protocols” are taken between each class, and that cleaners use disinfectants such as KennelSol and Performacide, which can kill parvovirus.
The management team also said that the operation relocated to a studio in Deep Ellum on July 4 after being notified that Lange’s puppies had fallen ill, and replaced equipment like the yoga mats “even though we had no indication of any cross-contamination to other puppies from the weekends before or after.”
“This has been the only parvo-related incident we’ve encountered after hosting over 10,000 puppies from more than 1,500 breeders and rescues across 39 studio locations. Thankfully, no other cases have occurred before or since,” the statement said. “We remain deeply committed to maintaining the highest standards of sanitation, biosecurity, and puppy welfare to ensure something like this remains an isolated incident that seems to be related to the breeders' practices and high exposure to infections.”
The Observer attempted to search through reviews left for other Puppies & Yoga locations to verify whether Lange and Ortega’s experience was a one-off, only to find that the company does not operate Google review listings. While a Google listing for the Dallas studio did exist at the start of this article’s reporting, it has since been removed, and Puppies & Yoga stated the page would have been set up by a third party and was not managed or operated by the company. The company relies on “direct feedback and our own channels for reviews and communication.”
Puppies & Yoga also acknowledged that, in the wake of the Dalmatian’s illness, the company's social media moderators deleted a number of negative social media comments. Those comments, the company said, were part of a targeted wave of harassment “stemming from false allegations by Ms. Lange.”
Lange believes that blaming her business is another attempt by Puppies & Yoga to avoid accountability for what happened to her dogs. She said her grooming business uses a similar cleaning routine to Puppies & Yoga to fight infections and that none of the dogs she works with have fallen sick.
“We also only take pets with their shots,” Lange added. “And we actually check the paperwork.”
Canine Parvovirus
The first time Lange heard something was wrong was June 16.She received a call from Ortega, who warned her that Pogue, the dog who had been perfectly fine just three days before, was in rough shape. She assured Ortega, and later her own veterinarian, that the trips to the studio had been the puppies’ first time leaving her home other than trips to the vet.
The Thursday before Puppies & Yoga, the dogs had been given a “clean bill of health.”
The American Kennel Club says dogs typically start showing symptoms within three to seven days of contracting parvovirus, but in some cases, it can be 14 days before symptoms start. Veterinary records provided to the Observer show that eight days passed between the Dalmatians’ final Puppies & Yoga class and the time Pogue was hospitalized.
Shortly after Ortega called Lange, another family contacted the breeder to say their puppy had fallen ill and that they were unable to foot the medical bills that treatment would incur. Lange took the dog back, and once a veterinarian confirmed that all six puppies within her care had tested positive for the virus, Lange said she contacted the Dallas yoga studio.
She said that at first, she wasn’t looking to cast blame. She was concerned about the litters of puppies attending future classes because parvovirus can live on floors and surfaces for months and requires a special solution and thorough cleaning method to be killed.
“I let [the studio] know what the vets had said, and they actually said ‘Oh, well, we've never had an issue with parvo here,’ and totally denied it,” Lange said. “And they've had puppy classes every single weekend since.”
The Puppies & Yoga website advertises a commitment to puppy wellbeing and states that the puppies that attend classes are between 8 and 12 weeks old and vaccinated. But reporting shows that it isn’t likely that litters of puppies, especially those on the younger end of that range, are able to even be fully protected from the disease.
According to the American Kennel Club, puppies need to receive three rounds of vaccinations to be safe from parvo, and those shots are typically given at 6, 8 and 12 weeks. Dogs are vulnerable to the disease until they have received all three vaccinations, and an additional shot is recommended at 14 to 16 weeks. Lange’s puppies were born on April 18, which would have made the litter only 7 weeks old at the time of the yoga classes. They’d received one round of parvovirus immunizations.
“Our policy does allow puppies as young as 7 weeks, provided they have received their first vaccinations and passed a veterinary health check,” Puppies & Yoga said. “Having 7-week-old puppies in class was within our allowed age range and in line with the terms [Lange] agreed to.”
Most veterinary behavioral specialists advise that puppies should not be separated from their mothers for long periods of time prior to turning 8 weeks old, and according to the Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine, that window can really be pushed as far as 12 weeks of age. At the classes — which spanned five hours on Friday and seven hours on Saturday and Sunday, according to a contract shared with the Observer — the Dalmatian litters’ father, Flick, was present, but their mother, Jewels, was not.
Ethical Issues
Shelby Bobosky, executive director of the Texas Humane Legislation Network and a leader in Dallas’ animal advocacy scene, first noticed the puppy yoga phenomenon taking flight through social media videos, which have played a crucial role in fueling the puppy yoga wellness trend.Instagram pictures show beaming young women in bright-colored workout sets sitting squish-faced with the droopy-eyed dogs. One Instagram reel, posted by an Ontario-based puppy yoga studio, zooms in on a pup snoozing on top of a giggling yogi, and has 56.6 million views.
“I think we just found the most wholesome activity in Dallas,” a local influencer posted after attending a Puppies & Yoga class last year. The reel garnered 313,000 views.
Nonprofits have attempted to jump on the animal workout class trend. Bobosky attended a fundraiser yoga class hosted by the local rescue The Love Pitt. The experience left her pleasantly surprised, but what reassured her about the class stood in stark contrast to the experiences she sees advertised online by for-profit, “pay to play” puppy yoga companies. At The Love Pitt’s event, the dogs were older, and each was up for adoption. The event was a one-off, and only one class, unlike the marathon she imagines a weekend of back-to-back classes would be for a young pup.
“I have serious concerns based on the ages [of the dogs], and putting such young susceptible puppies into this environment,” Bobosky said. “Because it can have such a detrimental effect on their welfare. … I just don't think responsible breeders put puppies into yoga classes. There are other ways to socialize their puppies.”
While Dallas made strides in animal welfare in 2022 by outlawing the selling of dogs and cats in pet stores, Bobosky worries that some puppy yoga classes, whether inadvertently or intentionally, encourage the purchase of designer dogs without care for where those animals came from. She believes that while Dallas has outlawed retail pet sales, the yoga studio is circumventing the city ordinance by acting as a third-party vendor that connects interested buyers with breeders who may have dogs for sale.
In an interview last year with the Irish outlet The Limerick Live, Puppies & Yoga owner Henri Sagon stated that the classes are “not a commercial thing,” and that the classes are not meant to be used as a place to advertise dogs for sale. The company website, too, emphasizes that “our events are not made to help breeders sell puppies or encourage impulsive adoption.”
But Bobosky’s concerns aren’t unfounded. In April of this year, an unlicensed breeder from California was fined $15,400 by authorities for offering puppies for sale at a Las Vegas Puppies & Yoga event, The Nevada Current reported.
Ortega said she agreed to purchase Pogue in the Puppies & Yoga studio when, after her class ended, she noticed Lange sitting at a side table and overheard a woman asking if any of the dogs were available.
“Look at all of the regulations that our Dallas animal shelter and other rescues have to adhere to, and there is no adherence by these fly-by-night companies,” Bobosky said. “I think that these companies are just as bad as those people who sell puppies on the side of the road … because quite frankly, they're here today, gone tomorrow.”
A look at the Puppies & Yoga website reveals little information about the company. There is no headquarters listed, no leadership team or CEO named; Sagon is quoted in a handful of articles about studios opening across Europe, but is unlisted on the U.S. website.
There is no phone number to call, and the yoga studios themselves operate as different businesses during the week, when classes aren’t held. The only way to contact the company is through the website’s contact form, which lists “customer support” and “private events” as the reasons for contact.
This communication wall felt especially frustrating to Lange, who attempted to “go up the ladder” after feeling that the Dallas studio’s response to her puppies being sick was inadequate. Only then did she realize that such a ladder doesn’t exist, at least not publicly. She did fill out a small blurb in the website’s contact box, explaining the situation in hopes that someone would see what was happening.
Instead, the only response she received was from a recruiter at the Seattle location who asked Lange if she’d be interested in bringing a litter of puppies up to the Pacific Northwest.
Frustrated by the yoga studio’s lack of communication, Lange’s friend decided to contact a number she’d seen associated with the yoga studio. The Observer called the number associated with the messages, and the phone was answered by a person who identified themselves as an employee of Puppies & Yoga. The individual said the line is shared between departments.
Lange’s friend posed as a breeder interested in bringing her litter of puppies to a class and asked what policies were in place for new breeders.
“We require the first round of shots to be done and in our contract, we require you to attest to that, but don’t actually need to see the vaccine records,” the alleged employee responded, based on screenshots of the conversation. “We just take your word for it.”
Puppies & Yoga said that message was a clear “miscommunication,” and that the suggestion that the company does not check for medical records was “worded poorly.”
“What [the employee] intended to convey is that we trust our partner breeders to attest that their puppies are vaccinated (as part of the signed service agreement), rather than physically checking paperwork at the door,” the company said. “We absolutely prioritize puppies' health and safety, and we would never knowingly allow an unvaccinated or unwell puppy into a class. The reference in the text message to ‘not needing to see the records’ was merely about on-site documentation, not a waiver of the vaccination requirement.”
Guilt and Blame
Pogue was “touch and go” for days, Ortega said, and medical records indicate the severity of the disease.“He may just need time to rebound, but if we don’t support his fluid loss, his hydration could cause more problems,” wrote one veterinarian.
When Pogue had first been seen by an emergency veterinarian, Ortega was quoted between $6,000 and $8,000 in hospital bills for his care, which she knew she couldn't swing. Because of her background as a veterinary technician, she opted to hospitalize him during the day and administer his care herself at night. Even still, by the time Pogue began to recover after four days of treatment, Ortega had spent $1,677 on his care. The costs were covered by the new credit card she had to open.
“They're still sending out marketing texts and emails,” she added. “‘Classes this Friday with American bulldog puppies,’ stuff like that.”
Midway through each week, the Dallas studio's Instagram account announces which breed of dog will attend that weekend’s classes. In the last month, classes have included litters of golden retrievers, dachshunds, English bulldogs, corgis and huskies.
The Puppies & Yoga website states that the company works with “local breeders” who “recognize the importance of early socialization.” But that’s as specific as things get, one of the flags that should have tipped off Ortega, who prides herself on her experience working in the pet industry. But that was easy to ignore when she thought of social media videos showing sleeping puppies in shavasana.
“I should have known better,” she said. “This was supposed to be a beautiful time. With my dog passing in October, this was the last thing that I needed.”
As an advocate for local shelters and rescues, Bobosky is already weary of the puppy yoga industry trend of working with breeders. The lack of specificity as to who, exactly, is providing these dogs to the classes is worrisome. While the company website states that Puppies & Yoga conducts a home inspection with potential breeders before contracting with them for classes, Lange said her home was never visited.
In July, the independent news outlet Block Club Chicago found that the Chicago location of the company Puppy Yoga Club — which is not affiliated with Puppies & Yoga — received a citation for failing to operate with a business license and for unlawfully advertising the retail sale of dogs. Further investigations revealed that the yoga studio, which has branches in Austin and San Antonio, was sourcing puppies from two farms listed on the Humane Society’s “Horrible 100 Puppy Mill Report.”
That would be a nightmare scenario for Bobosky.
“Do [these breeders] have a [Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation] license? Are they following state and federal laws and even the local Dallas code? All of these things raise welfare concerns from our perspective for the puppies involved,” Bobosky said. “There doesn't seem to be any clear traceability, which is very worrying. Basically, I see it as a marketing tool for irresponsible puppy sales.”
Lange does not qualify for a TDLR license because her operation is not large enough, although she is accredited with the American Kennel Club. A TDLR license is required for breeders who have five or more female pets being bred. Until June, Lange had only one. Jewels, the Dalmatian, whom she’d had since the pup was 8 weeks old.
Still recovering from giving birth, the dog’s immune system was compromised when the parvo-positive puppies came home. The days of the disease were tragic. Three puppies died within the first 24 hours of exhibiting symptoms, and three more died in the following days. Lange also had to agree to euthanize Jewels because the parvo had made the dog so anemic that blood transfusions couldn’t keep up with the disease.
Pogue and one other littermate were the only two dogs to survive the parvo.
Lange was “devastated” by the experience, and she has bounced between feelings of self-blame, guilt and shame in the weeks since. Her 5-year-old daughter still cries over the loss of Jewels.
“She still tells me all the time that she misses Jewels, and I just have to talk to her and explain to her that I miss Jewels too,” Lange said. “I feel like I didn’t do my job. I feel like, I don't know, that I could have done more. … I’ve never had any dog that’s had parvo. It was just very shocking and alarming.”
Bobosky said Lange and Ortega’s story is a cautionary one. It reminds veterinary experts that they are increasingly struggling to keep up with infectious disease outbreaks. Just this month, Dallas Animal Services announced that intake would be limited indefinitely because of an outbreak of canine distemper virus, which is, like parvo, a highly contagious viral infection that targets puppies and unvaccinated dogs.
The outbreak has resulted in an “all hands on deck” situation at the shelter, she said, at a time when an overstuffed shelter, a stretched-thin city department and looming budget cuts have already strained the vital city service.
That’s what Bobosky wants animal lovers to focus on — not Instagram opportunities.
“I do not play an epidemiological expert on TV, but I can tell you, traveling through the state for my job, the shelters are talking more about parvo, and there are more limited intakes due to Parvo and distemper outbreaks,” Bobosky said. “If [the puppy yoga industry] cares so much about these puppies, they will not continue to put them into these incredibly dangerous situations.”
