2026. New Chapter. New Season.

As the year turns, I’ve been sitting with what actually feels true—not the polished version, not the “everything happens for a reason” one, but the honest one.

This past year didn’t ask a lot.

It forced a lot.

To pause.

To reconsider.

To release what no longer fit.

To make space—sometimes before I knew what would fill it.

To sacrifice.

To pour from a cup that was emptying faster than it could be refilled.

To keep showing up—even while struggling, exhausted, and watching my own health deteriorate.

To make faith-based choices.

Choices that exceeded logic.

Choices that asked me to trust something greater than reason.

I’ve learned (and relearned) that change doesn’t always arrive gently.

Sometimes it arrives as curiosity.

Sometimes as a quiet nudge.

And sometimes—as a fucking hammer.

That was this year for me.

It didn’t whisper.

It didn’t suggest.

It didn’t negotiate.

It hammered me into honesty, surrender, and change—whether I felt ready or not.

That thread runs through my newest book, "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training's Missing Link"—not as a promise to fix or heal, but as an invitation to remember, to notice, to get curious, and to shift how we relate—to our dogs, to one another, and to ourselves.

Because in all my years working with dogs and their people, this is the one raw, foundational truth—the most influential behavioral ingredient I continue to see at play—

and yet it remains the least spoken about and the least directly addressed.

For many reasons.

A lack of awareness and fluency within the training industry.

Fear, avoidance, and discomfort on the client side.

And a broader tendency to look for techniques before we’re willing to look at ourselves.

More and more, I’m seeing profound Love, Safety, Guidance, and Support actively at work in my life.

If you’ve been following me for a while—if you’ve read my first book, "My Dog, My Buddha"—you know my life has always been shaped by listening.

By paying attention.

By following what reveals itself—sometimes quietly, sometimes unmistakably.

And by trusting intuition—our direct connection to God, the Great Love beyond us, Source.

I believe in the unexpected.

I believe in the impossible becoming possible.

Not as blind optimism—

but as lived experience.

I’ve watched doors open I never could have planned.

I’ve felt support arrive from places I didn’t know to look.

I’ve seen paths rearrange themselves—

and Love move where logic couldn’t reach.

I saw this unfold most vividly through my journey with Ava and her precious pups.

What began as effort, devotion, and uncertainty took a massive, unexpected, almost unbelievable turn—the most incredible plot twist I never could have seen coming.

And it arrived at the exact moment it mattered most.

A true Godwink.

I’ve received word that Ava, Winnie, and Cowboy are all doing very well. I don’t yet have details or photos, which has been harder than I expected. Letting go while still loving—and trusting—is a practice I’m still learning. But I’m choosing to trust they’re safe and cared for… and that’s enough for now.

In 2026, my focus is to gently circle back to what was placed on hold when Ava and her pups entered my life.

That includes launching the new podcast, "The Human End of the Leash";

completing the script for The Long Way Home and submitting it to the production company that asked for it;

and continuing to contribute to, build out, and polish the Whole Pet Wellness program in my role as Director of Pet Health and Longevity with Long Run.

And alongside all of that, something deeply personal and grounding— a return to partnership, commitment, and shared life.

In this new year, Steve and I will be getting married.

Not as a grand declaration,

but as a steady choosing- again and again.

A partnership rooted in love, trust, growth, and shared purpose.

And just as importantly—

nurturing my nervous system,

bringing my own health back to a solid, sustainable baseline,

and recommitting to real self-care.

To heal.

To nourish.

To nurture.

To re-steady.

Another core focus in the work I’m doing is turning toward the nervous system.

Because above anything and everything else, dogs—and people—respond to STATE.

Before obedience.

Before skillsets.

Before anything.

I didn’t just learn this as a concept.

I lived this truth in real time.

When things were calm, *state* made connection possible.

It made communication clearer.

When things were chaotic, *state* narrowed everything.

And when life hammered— *state* determined whether safety, learning, and trust could exist at all.

And so, instead of entering the new year thinking about “healing,” changing, or making grand sweeping statements, I’m suggesting we all…

- pause long enough to notice.

- reconsider what we’ve been carrying.

- release what no longer fits, and

- make space—sometimes before we know what will fill it.

Not to rush the process.

Not to force meaning.

But to let honesty, intuition, and presence lead.

If you’re feeling quietly held, guided, or supported right now—even in uncertainty—you’re not imagining it.

And you’re not alone.

This is how Spirit | God moves.

It's how Love moves.

And as we step into this next year—

I’m wishing you all an amazing year ahead.

A new chapter.

A new season.

A ready-to-paint canvas.

May it be filled with Love.

With reflection.

With revelations that arrive in their own time.

With beautiful milestones—both quiet and celebrated.

May you feel supported as you release what no longer fits,

steady as you make space for what’s next,

and gently guided—whether the path unfolds in whispers or unmistakable moments.

With so much love and gratitude,

K.