Larry was a black and tan Dachshund and Bear was a big slobbery Lab newfoundland mix. Despite both being black dogs, they couldn’t look more different. They were also behavioral nightmares. These two would constantly bark out the window, and would sometimes get destructive. They were hard to walk and weren’t always friendly to each other. And if they got out, it was a chase to get them back.

Though I loved them very much, I was only a child and I didn’t know how to be responsible for them. After a heavy dinner conversation one night, Our family decided the right thing to do was to rehome our Dachshund, Larry, to a family friend who could give him a calmer and more controlled life. A few years later while I was in high school Bear passed away. My parents decided to get cats.

And so for my last few years in my childhood home, I got jobs working at dog daycares so that I could spend any time possible around dogs. I went to the dog park (Yes, without a dog) to watch them play, interact, and communicate. I watched frustrated owners yelling at their dogs, I watched playful dogs navigate their pack hierarchies. I found myself making friends with regulars, the way that other dogs did. I loved to be around them. It was at Robinswood park during this time I realized that there’s something about me that dogs seem to like. This was also around the time when i realized I would likely spend the rest of my life working with dogs.

During the following years, I got jobs at dog daycares, groomers, I walked dogs, I even trained to be a certified Veterinary Assistant through PIMA medical institute. But through all of this time, I was frustrated with how many people I met who couldn’t “speak” to dogs. Even professional dog handlers! I met daycare attendants who would flippantly spray or even shove dogs because they weren’t “obedient” and groomers who restrained screaming animals for nail trims, a completely harmless and noninvasive procedure.

There was a day working in the clinic when I realized there has to be a better way. I thought it was incredibly noble to save an animals life, but as a veterinary assistant, I was waiting until they were sick, injured, or dying before I started helping. The solution: Dog Training.

“Talk about your special interest for work? Sign me up!” As soon as I took my first job as a trainer it felt right. I took every opportunity I had to explain to owners about nuanced body language cues like lip licking and whale eyes or the distinction between distance generating barks vs distress barking. I realized quickly that this obsession distinguished me from other trainers. What I was beginning to understand was that my personal mission had revealed itself. I want to help people understand dogs. But not only that I want to help dogs understand people.

Working with cute playful dogs in daycare is much easier than teaching a fearful reactive dog that despite my height, I am not a threat. But this was where my superpower came in. By going in home and helping owners create an environment that is controlled, giving the dog predictable outcomes, and by making changes little by little, I was able to get my most reactive clients to become calm and predictable. my secret was that I wasn’t just teaching the dog obedience, I was teaching the owners how to convey what they actually mean to their dogs.

Making a dog sit is easy, but convincing a dog to stay seated is hard. With my system, even dogs that had never sat on command could understand that they need to stay seated, regardless of their distractions. I was giving the owners a deep understanding of how to really speak to their dogs in a way that can be understood. After doing this now for a couple years it has become clear my passion for dogs can finally make the impact I wanted.