When your nervous system tells the truth before you do.

Good morning, dear friends.

I’ve been thinking so much about how tightly our nervous systems hold the stories we’ve lived — and how quickly they reveal the truth (long before our words catch up).

This last week cracked me open in ways I’m still trying to integrate.

Everything I was carrying was living inside my body. I didn’t need to speak of it — it was just there.

And the dogs felt all of it: the fear, the pressure, the grief, the hope.

They didn’t need my words; they were responding to everything my nervous system was silently (and not-so-silently) holding.

That’s the part that humbles me the most.

We talk so much about “training” — but dogs don’t learn about us through "commands" and directives.

They learn about us through our breath.

Our tension.

Our pauses.

Through our fear.

Our hope.

How we carry ourselves.

How we move through our space.

Our tone.

How we respond.

How we react.

Where we're confident... and where we're not-so-confident.

The energy we bring into every room.

They learn us through our internal weather.

And I was carrying a raging storm inside of me.

And when my nervous system unraveled on this journey, the dogs responded in ways that reminded me — again — that this work is never just about them.

It’s about us.

Always us.

This is the same truth that sits at the heart of "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link."

I didn’t write that book from a pedestal.

I wrote it from lived experience — the messy, human, breaking-and-repairing kind.

The kind I’m still very much moving through.

I’m still decompressing.

Still catching up on sleep.

Still sitting on the same corner of the couch in the same clothes I changed into when I first got home — I’m on strict orders not to move so this deep gash in my leg can heal.

And for the foreseeable future, my focus will be on my own healing and recovery from this past year.

Writing will be a big part of that process (as it always has been).

But in the midst of the exhaustion and the unraveling, I keep coming back to the silver linings — the things this situation revealed in such powerful, humbling ways:

– the power of prayer.

– the power of community — and the village that held us together, even from miles away.

– how sometimes it takes loss to reveal what we still have to be profoundly grateful for.

– that God works in mysterious, precise, and undeniably powerful ways.

– that this experience gave our entire household the reset it deeply needed after the intensity of this past year’s rescue effort.

– and the profound, individual lessons each of these incredible dogs taught me — about myself, about rescue, about Nature and Nurture, about responsibility, and about just how deeply the human end of the leash shapes canine behavior and perception.

A few of you pointed out something that still gives me chills:
that all of this happened in Phoenix.

And the phoenix, as you know, represents resilience, transformation, rebirth, and new beginnings.

I don’t believe in coincidences.

As much as I haven’t loved living in California — for reasons many of you fully understand — I do love what’s in it:

Steve.

His family.

Our home.

The life we were building together.

And the people and the community I am so incredibly grateful to be returning to.

This chapter was hard.

BEYOND hard.

It broke things open.

It was gutting, disorienting, overwhelming, and it stretched me into a version of myself I didn’t know I was strong enough to become — brutally honest about where my edges really were.

It revealed what needed to be seen.

And it reminded me — in no uncertain terms — that even in the darkest moments, there is Grace, there is Guidance, and there is always something being rebuilt beneath the rubble.

Thank you for being here.

For witnessing.

For caring.

For holding a corner of this wild, painful, beautiful journey with me.

I’m not through this moment yet.

But I’m learning from it.

And I know the dogs are, too.

———

The new book, "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link", can be found here:

https://kimberlyartley.com/books-and-ebooks

Ava, Winnie, and Cowboy are now being lovingly fostered and cared for by: Adopt A Dog Rescue

Please take a moment to like, follow, and support the powerful, much-needed, tough-as-nails, deeply beautiful work they’re doing.

While reports are that Ava is adjusting beautifully — which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, given the level of resilience this girl carries — Cowboy and Winnie are struggling.

Winnie will likely adapt sooner than Cowboy; she has a lighter nervous system and will settle more quickly with the right structure. Cowboy, however, will need more time and consistent practice of the right ingredients.

Routine and consistent practice of basic, essential need-meeting creates predictability — and predictability creates safety and security.

It’s something all three of them will need, each in their own way and in varying degrees, right now.

Ava’s strength is powerful. She is an exceptional dog in so many ways.

Cowboy and Winnie, on the other hand, are feeling the weight of all they’ve just lived through, and their adjustment is taking more time and support.

It’s my sincere hope that their fosters will take me up on my offer to enroll — free of charge, of course — in the masterclasses and courses inside Dog Mom University (https://dogmomuniversity.thinkific.com).

I KNOW that information will serve them all — and any other dog they foster or welcome into their lives in the future — better than well.

And I want to say this clearly:

Having the knowledge doesn’t exempt any of us from being human.

Even the best tools, strategies, and frameworks require a regulated, resourced nervous system to be used effectively.

In the level of overwhelm I was in — exhausted, grieving, dysregulated, and carrying more than any one person should — I wasn’t working from the groundedness those practices require.

Knowledge isn’t the same as bandwidth.

Understanding isn’t the same as capacity.

And even the strongest practitioners reach moments where their cup is simply empty.

Again, that's the very heart of "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training's Missing Link."

When our nervous system is pushed beyond its threshold, our dogs will feel it long before our skills can compensate for it.

Which is exactly why this education is so valuable for the fosters caring for them now — because with fresh eyes, steady bandwidth, and regulated support, they can apply these tools in the way the dogs most need right now.