Where Rescue Meets Responsibility.

When I finished writing "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link," I was nine months into Ava and her babies’ rescue effort.

The book itself had been years in the making. I paused writing for six months when they first came into my life. When I picked the manuscript back up, Ava was by my side as I finished it.

That lived experience with Ava and her babies is what inspired the Bonus Chapter: Responsible Rescue — Rescue Done Different.

Over the past year, I’ve seen parts of the rescue world I wish I didn’t have to see. Parts I knew existed—but had no idea just how prevalent they were.

Being on this side of rescue made one thing unmistakably clear:

this book—and the teachings within it—are needed more than ever.

The dog crisis we’re facing right now is not accidental. It is the direct byproduct of a pervasive human problem—one rooted in ego, unresolved trauma, lack of accountability, poor

communication, power struggles, and a deep misunderstanding of what dogs actually need from us.

We walk through the world suppressing, escaping, numbing, projecting, and avoiding our own stuff.

Unresolved human trauma doesn’t disappear—it gets displaced.

And dogs—and our children—are often the ones absorbing what we refuse to address or acknowledge.

Rescue is not a solo act.

It's not about enforcing personal ideas or controlling outcomes.

It requires a village mentality to truly see dogs all the way through—emotionally, behaviorally, and ethically.

I’ve witnessed what happens when too many people want to be the captain of the ship. The ship doesn’t move forward—it just spins in circles, fueled by ego, frustration, unnecessary drama, and people walking around with earplugs—closed off to listening, to learned experience, to skill, and to perspective— adding weight to an already heavy and difficult situation.

I’ve also witnessed the magic that happens when people use their strengths, bring their own special sauce to the table, and work together on behalf of the dogs—not ego, not recognition, not control, but trust, collaboration, communication, and true partnership.

I was incredibly fortunate to cross paths with a few rare gems along this journey—people who show up with humility, competence, and integrity. They are the reason this final leg was even possible. (Rona Cortez—I’m looking at you, Lady )

I’ve also encountered people who have no business being in the dog world at all. That reality is uncomfortable—but it’s part of the truth.

There is a heartbreaking amount of fraud, misrepresentation, and lack of transparency in rescue. I didn’t learn that from rumors—I learned it by living it. That doesn’t make me cynical; it makes me more committed than ever to increasing public awareness and accountability.

As the aftermath of the last year continues to unfold and unravel, I’ll be sharing how to identify not just “reputable” rescues—but ethical, honest, transparent, and genuinely good rescues.

And this conversation doesn’t stop at rescue.

Since being in California, I’ve witnessed an alarming number of gut-wrenching, totally preventable situations involving dog walkers, pet sitters, and “pet care specialists.” These situations happen when people hire random individuals off Nextdoor or social media who “love dogs” but lack behavioral fluency, handling skills, and a fundamental understanding of canine behavior.

Too often, whoever—or whatever—is cheapest becomes the deciding factor in who cares for our pets. And that choice usually ends up being the most costly one of all. When it comes to dogs, you truly do get what you pay for—especially when fluency, handling skill, and a fundamental understanding of canine behavior are absent.

The truth is, most dog walkers and pet care specialists are not behaviorally fluent. Many people involved in rescue are not behaviorally fluent. And behavioral fluency is not optional when working with dogs—it is essential—much like an understanding of the human body is essential for doctors, or an understanding of vehicles is essential for mechanics. It's a necessary baseline.

Failing to seek out or obtain that fluency doesn’t just put the dog in one’s care at risk—it puts other dogs at risk as well. This is how preventable incidents happen. This is how dogs—and people—get hurt.

Our involvement with dogs, in any capacity, is not just a personal responsibility. It is a social and public one.

Loving dogs is not enough.

I’ve worked with many clients who loved their dogs deeply—sometimes to the point of excess. Love without understanding, structure, or boundaries can (and often does) unintentionally create behavioral issues. What we don’t know, what we don’t understand, and what we are doing—or failing to do—are among the most common denominators in behavior problems.

I’ve seen some of the most hair-brained, dangerous decisions made by people who genuinely “love dogs” but don’t understand them—decisions that resulted in dogs getting loose, getting into altercations, going missing, and even losing their lives.

This rescue effort with Ava and her babies took more from me than I can fully verbalize—financially, emotionally, and physically.

It was long. It was hard. It was beyond exhausting. And there were moments that brought me to my knees and tested me in ways I never anticipated.

But I never stopped caring, advocating for, or protecting them.

I commit to my commitments.

I made a vow that they would never again know neglect, fear, or abandonment. That promise guided every decision I made—especially the hardest ones.

Cowboy and Winnie are now in a foster home, and I’m deeply grateful they finally have space to exhale.

Ava is still waiting for her perfect situation. She needs to be the only animal in the home—a place where she can shower her people with the extraordinary depth of love she carries. Ava craves human connection. Bond. Home.

And this has been exceptionally difficult to find.

Most homes open to welcoming a dog already have another dog or a cat. So we wait—not because she is “hard,” but because she is the individual she is and deserves the right fit, as they all do.

What I can say, without hesitation, is this:

Ava will be one of the best decisions someone makes in their entire life.

She is one of the most remarkable, steady, and extraordinary dogs I’ve ever known—and I do not say that lightly. She has a grounding presence, a gentle soul, and a deep capacity for connection.

She loves her stuffies.

She loves her people.

She is **fantastic** with children.

And when she bonds, she bonds with her whole heart.

I’ve dedicated my life’s work to dogs and the people who love them. I’ve made many mistakes along the way—especially early on—and I’ve turned every one of them into awareness, education, and stronger standards.

Going forward, my work will continue to focus on raising the bar—on ethics, accountability, behavioral fluency, nervous-system awareness, and collaboration.

Rescue done right is humble.

It’s collaborative.

It’s accountable.

And while it’s always—always—about the dogs, it’s also about the people. Especially the people.

You cannot be in the dog world without being in the people world. Our people fluency and communication skills must be just as strong as our dog fluency. We cannot reach or teach the dog unless we can first reach and teach the human responsible for raising that dog. This is a truth I’ve learned again and again over years of doing this work.

So for any trainers or dog professionals who entered this field hoping to escape people—I hate to break it to you—but you’re in the wrong line of work.

If there’s one overarching lesson this past year has made impossible to ignore, it’s this:

We don’t do better by accident.

We do better by learning.

By increasing awareness.

By developing fluency—emotional, behavioral, relational.

By choosing humility over ego, collaboration over control, education over assumption.

We do better when we stop confusing love with competence.

When we stop outsourcing responsibility.

When we acknowledge that what we don’t know—and what we refuse to examine—has real consequences.

Doing better means choosing ethics over optics.

Transparency over titles.

Competence over labels.

Partnership over power struggles.

Dogs don’t exist in a vacuum—and neither does harm.

What we bring into the relationship matters.

The other gleaming takeaway from all of this is simple: we can do better.

And we MUST do better.

These extraordinary creatures are counting on us.

A special message to Ava, Winnie, and Cowboy— and to all of Ava’s pups:

You changed my life in the most significant and unspeakable ways.

You were my teachers. My healers. And I will never—ever—forget you.

Your lessons will live on through my work, my words, and the lives you continue to touch.

May you live the most extraordinary lives—lives so full, safe, and loved that your humble beginnings fade into distant memory.

You will always be a part of me. A part of my heart. And always a part of my pack… and my family.

And to the people who promise to love them forever: I will always be in your corner. You, too, are part of the pack and family.

True rescue takes a village.