05/23/2025
This right here,,say it again so everyone can hear us, I am your coach and I take that job very serious, together let's create a better lifestyle for you and your dog 🐕
I know there are people out there who don’t like me—and honestly, that’s okay.
I didn’t get into dog training to be liked. I got into it to help dogs and teach their humans how to give them the life they deserve.
I don’t walk into any session looking to ruffle feathers or be harsh. But when I see a dog struggling—confused, anxious, or acting out because of what’s been allowed or ignored—it becomes my job to step in.
Sometimes that means having hard conversations, holding people accountable, and saying the things that are uncomfortable to hear.
I told the Eastland class, “I’ll be the as***le your dog needs me to be if that’s what it takes to help you become the human they need you to be.”
That’s not a license to mistreat or disrespect anyone—far from it. It’s a commitment to be honest, even when it’s hard, because your dog can’t speak for themselves, but I can.
Stepping into that role isn’t easy. As a trainer constantly in the public eye, it can be uncomfortable, even embarrassing, to be misunderstood when I push someone harder than they expected.
Many clients are supportive—until it’s their turn to be challenged. Then it gets real.
And when it does, I ask them to reflect: if my feedback feels overwhelming, imagine how your dog feels when they’re confused and unsupported, pulling against pressure they don’t understand.
That feeling of checking out, of losing hope—that’s what your dog goes through when leadership is inconsistent.
This isn’t about tearing anyone down. It’s about helping you see what’s possible. I hold you accountable not because I see failure—but because I see potential.
I believe there’s a more capable, confident, compassionate version of you inside, and your dog is waiting to meet that person.
Accountability isn’t cruelty. It’s clarity. And it’s part of the transformation—for both ends of the leash.