EXCLUSIVE: Kris Jenner’s Leaky Confession About the Dog Who Runs the Kardashian Empire

Kris Jenner spills on the furry family member with more sway than the contracts.

Written by Steve Duno, pet behaviorist

It started with Snoop, a rescue who wormed into the household and never left. Jenner has said the dog’s calm presence became the gravitational centre of a famously frenetic home.

The obsession grew into a full-blown menagerie, with a dog café-style setup and a rotating cast of pampered pups. What began as one good deed morphed into a lifestyle the whole famiily embraced.

The pack now spans names like Duff, Bridget, Sophie, Penelope, and Lamar, with the younger generation—Khloe, Mason, North, Kourtney, Scott, Rob, and Bruce among them—each tied to the animals in their own way. The dogs are less pets than honorary siblings.

Jenner has turned that love into giving, backing animal charities with real money—figures rumoured in the six figures over the years, including a standout 2009 effort and a 2012 push near $300,000. For a woman who counts everything, the spend on rescue is the one she never regrets.

Ask Jenner the secret to surviving fame, and she’ll point not at her phone but at the dog at her feet. The empire may be built on ratings, but it’s held together by tails.

For the record: you do not kneel or bend over and offer your outstretched hand to a strange dog. Ever. All she knows is someone outside her pack is trying to touch her, period. She doesn’t care what your hand smells like—what would she compare it to, some library of kindly scents?

I see this play out outside supermarkets, cafés, and shops, where dogs are tethered while owners shop inside. People going in or out feel obliged to greet the dog—or worse, have their kids do it—and have taught those kids the same broken greeting, nearly guaranteeing a nip on the hand or face. Even with the owner there, greeting a dog that way is foolish unless you enjoy trouble.

Was this bad greeting drilled into us as kids, alongside gems like “duck and cover” or “healthy” tanning? If so, I don’t recall. Either way, whoever blessed this method knew little about dogs.

The right way to greet a strange dog is not at all. Ignore her completely, even if she seems friendly. Plenty of dogs send mixed signals with tails, ears, and posture—I’ve had smiling Border Collies, Corgis, Samoyeds, spaniels, all sorts of ‘happy’ looking dogs try to bite me while projecting fake friendliness.

Yes, some dogs are clear: the five-month retriever with the full-body wag, or the old Gandalf-like Springer mix nudging his slobbery tennis ball at you—those are easy to read. But as a rule, ignore the dog and greet the owner first. Don’t even look at the dog. Shake the owner’s hand, chat, skip wild gestures, and let the dog sniff your leg and watch. She’ll soon decide you’re fine—and that you have two bad-breath dogs at home who rolled in poop yesterday. Then her posture relaxes; she wags, smiles, joins in, maybe nudges for a head scratch. A casual scratch and a low-key “good girl” is all it takes for safe greetings ahead.

Don’t overdo it, even if she seems open. At this stage, polite interaction is fine—not roughhousing, frantic rubbing, or silly loud noises. Push an insecure dog too fast and she’ll react defensively. Keep it low-key, the way a confident dog acts with a subordinate. Be calmly indifferent. Be cool.

If you see a lone tethered dog, just leave him be. Respect his right to space. You needn’t prove you’re Doctor Doolittle; it isn’t worth it. At least wait for the owner, talk first, then let nature take over. Keep a few treats to drop casually—but never feel obliged to be a dog ambassador.

More importantly, teach your kids the same. Of the five million dog bites reported yearly in the U.S., most hit children under twelve, largely because we taught them the crazy ‘reach your hand out’ salute.

For loose dogs roaming the neighbourhood, use your judgment on whether they need help. But a strange dog, even a lost one, will likely distrust you and may bite if cornered. And if you meet a rough pack of strays, stay calm, don’t run, avoid eye contact, move steadily to where you’re going. If they mean real harm, get up on a car or grab a trash can to defend; yell for help, call 911, and act bigger than you are. Never confront head-on unless you have no choice. Carry treats or a ball to toss into bushes and distract them. If you walk where strays hang out, consider pepper spray, a cane, or an umbrella—or, perhaps, stroll with a pair of 180-pound Harlequin Great Danes.