Valerian Root Versus Chamomile for Calming an Anxious Dog

By Koranda Walsh, VMD, DACVIM (SAIM), DACVP (CP)

Comparisons · August 22, 2026 · 6 min read

Between valerian root and chamomile, one has a thin trial in dogs and a real GABA mechanism; the other has a nicer smell.

A twenty-six-pound mixed-breed named Ozzy came into my exam room with his owner holding a printout of six different calming chews, all purchased in the same panicked Amazon session after a July 4th fireworks episode that ended with a chewed-through door frame. He was four years old, otherwise healthy, and his owner had already tried a compression wrap and white noise. What she wanted from me wasn’t a lecture — it was a straight answer on valerian root versus chamomile, because the internet had given her neither.

That’s the question this piece answers. Not “are herbs safe” in the abstract, but which of these two actually has a mechanism and a data point behind it, and which is riding almost entirely on scent and tradition.

What valerian root is actually doing in the brain

Valerian’s proposed mechanism isn’t folklore — it’s GABAergic. The compounds in Valeriana officinalis root are thought to interact with GABA-A receptors, the same inhibitory pathway that benzodiazepines and some prescription anxiolytics work through, which is why valerian has a centuries-long reputation as a sedative rather than just a “calming” herb. The NIH Office of Dietary Supplements fact sheet lays out the human evidence plainly: trial results for anxiety and sleep are mixed, dosing across studies is inconsistent, and standardization of the active valerenic acid content varies widely between products — which matters more than most labels admit, because a “valerian root” chew with no valerenic acid percentage listed is telling you almost nothing about what’s actually in the capsule.

The canine-specific literature is thinner than I’d like to say out loud in front of a client, but it isn’t empty. A study in the Journal of Veterinary Pharmacology and Therapeutics found valerian root extract reduced anxiety behaviors in dogs during simulated thunderstorm exposure — a real, if narrow, data point that’s more than chamomile can currently claim in a canine model. I read that as “worth a supervised trial,” not “proven,” and I say that to owners directly.

Where chamomile actually earns its place

Chamomile’s case is built on a different foundation: it’s gentler, it has a genuinely reassuring safety profile, and the human anxiety data is more developed than valerian’s. NCCIH notes that a 2016 randomized controlled trial of chamomile extract in adults with moderate-to-severe generalized anxiety disorder showed a clinically meaningful reduction in symptoms over eight weeks. That’s a real trial with real numbers — in humans. For dogs, the evidence is anecdotal: no equivalent canine trial exists, and most of what’s written about chamomile calming dogs traces back to its long use as a mild GI and skin-soothing herb that got extrapolated into the anxiety space because it’s low-risk and pleasant-smelling, not because anyone ran the study.

That gap between “well-studied in people” and “assumed to transfer to dogs” is exactly the kind of thing a label doesn’t tell you, and exactly the kind of thing I check before I let a claim sit on a page.

The counterargument I take seriously

The strongest pushback I get from other clinicians is that valerian’s odor and taste are genuinely off-putting to a lot of dogs — pungent enough that palatability alone tanks compliance, which makes the theoretical GABA advantage moot if the dog won’t eat the chew. Chamomile is milder, easier to layer into a routine, and safer to combine with other calming strategies without worrying about additive sedation. That’s a fair point, and it’s why I don’t tell every anxious-dog owner to reach for valerian first. For a dog with mild, situational anxiety — car rides, vet visits, a new houseguest — chamomile’s better tolerability probably wins on real-world adherence even with weaker canine data behind it.

What a lab value actually tells the owner

Here’s the part most calming-supplement content skips: neither of these herbs shows up as a number on routine bloodwork, so there’s no lab check that confirms “this is working” the way a thyroid panel confirms hypothyroidism. What bloodwork can tell you is whether a dog is a safe candidate for either herb in the first place. Valerian is metabolized hepatically, and I want a baseline liver panel — ALT, ALP, bilirubin — before starting it in any dog with a history of liver disease or one already on other hepatically cleared medications, because stacking sedative and hepatic burden on a compromised liver is not a theoretical risk. Chamomile carries less of that concern but still deserves caution in dogs on blood thinners, since it has mild anticoagulant activity in some reports. Reading the bloodwork before the claim isn’t optional here — it’s the difference between an educated trial and a guess.

For a dog whose anxiety shows up around motion sickness or car rides specifically rather than general situational stress, the comparison shifts entirely — that’s covered in Ginger Versus Chamomile for Dog Car Sickness: What the Label (and the Bloodwork) Actually Support, where chamomile’s role looks different again.

I’ve watched this play out with enough dogs that I no longer expect either herb to do the whole job alone. One golden retriever I worked with, eight years old and sixty-eight pounds, had developed noise anxiety severe enough that her owner started sleeping on the living room floor during storm season just to keep her from pacing all night. We tried chamomile first because she was already on a joint supplement and I wanted the lower-interaction option; it took the edge off her pacing but did nothing for the panting and drooling that started the moment thunder began. We added a low dose of valerian on vet-visit days only, alongside a Thundershirt, and the combination — not either herb alone — was what finally let her lie down during a storm instead of circling the room. That’s one dog’s outcome, not a study, but it’s the pattern I see often enough to trust the underlying logic: herbs are additive tools, not solutions, and the form matters as much as the ingredient.

Form and delivery also change how much of either herb actually reaches the dog in a usable state, which is worth reading up on separately if you’re choosing between a chew, a powder, or a tincture — see Chew vs Powder vs Liquid Supplements for Dogs: Which Form Is Most Effective for how absorption and dosing accuracy differ by format. And if the anxiety is severe enough that you’re weighing an oral herb against a wearable option entirely, Thundershirt vs. an Oral Calming Aid for Dog Anxiety: What Actually Changes in the Body is the more direct comparison.

Where I actually land

If I had to send one home with an owner in Ozzy’s position — mild-to-moderate situational anxiety, no liver concerns, no other medications — I’d start with chamomile for its safety margin and let it prove itself over two to three weeks before adding anything else. If the anxiety is more severe, more physiologically driven — the panting, drooling, GI upset that suggests real autonomic arousal rather than mild unease — valerian’s GABA mechanism and its actual canine thunderstorm data give it the edge, provided I’ve checked liver values first and warned the owner about palatability. Neither replaces a behavior plan, and neither is a substitute for calling your veterinarian if the anxiety involves self-injury or has been escalating for more than a few weeks.

Read the label before you buy either one. If a product doesn’t disclose valerenic acid content or chamomile extract concentration, you’re buying a guess with a calming-sounding name on it.