Pivotal Moments

My first dog-as-an-adult, Finn, was an absolute hooligan. When I met Finn, I was instantly in love, but he happily wreaked havoc everywhere we went. Our first trip to Columbus from Chicago was akin to a National Lampoon movie.

The second I opened the front door, Finn saw the cat and chased her up the stairs. He then charged after her, up the Christmas tree. The tree toppled into the fish tank causing it to crash to the floor. And, when we sent Finn to the backyard so we could clean the chaos he caused, it took him all of 30 seconds to climb the upright ladder to the pool and try swimming on top of the winter liner. Thankfully, we quickly brought him back inside, where he shook water all over my sister, then ran back up the stairs to see what other fun he could find.

It wasn’t until two dogs attacked Finn and me (similar to Gavin, but they were on leash and pulled their person to us) that I started thinking about dog training. Finn went from grabbing kids’ ice cream cones out of their hands to barking and lunging at dogs on our walks. 

I fell more in love with dog training in every class we took together. I learned so much about what Finn needed and was trying to communicate while having fun. But, I was inept at best. Whenever the trainer would use Finn as a demonstration dog, he shined. When I attempted the same exercise, Finn looked perplexed as he tried to figure out what I asked. However, I made up for what I lacked in grace, intuitiveness, and mechanical skills with dedication and a desire to do right by my dog.

Finn helped me find a career I loved for more than a decade. And it was that career that bolstered my idea for Bark Pouch. Watching people struggle to dig treats out of their pockets when trying to focus on their dogs inspired me to make treating easier.

Last week, we made the most pouches we’ve ever made. We also sold the most pouches we’ve ever sold. And I’m beyond grateful. Our flow on kitchen days is finely tuned, and I have two people fully trained in the shipment process. But, like, everything in life, nothing is set in stone.

As I’m prepping to be out for a week so Gavin and I can move, Cammie landed her dream job, part-time, so we’re talking about plans B, C, and D if working both jobs becomes too much for her. Lou is retired, so he doesn’t want to work away his days, especially in the summertime. And, EmiLee, is a brilliant wedding photographer who’s in her busy season, so her availability is now limited.

We were on a roll of making what you wanted and needed to treat your dogs, but we’re now selling out of pouches again, and I see that continuing in the next few weeks (at least). Great problem to have, I know, but I feel bad if you want a recipe that’s not in stock.

This morning, as I walked Gavin and gave myself a break from brainstorming short-term solutions, he stopped at his decompression spot. It was a dreamy morning, 70 degrees, with a slight breeze rustling the leaves around us. I sat on the grass, and Gavin lay next to me with a giant smile. I started his pattern game of find-wait-touch, which he loves. We’ve been playing some variation of that game for years, but his eyes still glisten every time I say one of those words. And, with every treat I gave Gavin, I remembered why I love positive dog training so much, the bonding and connection. That’s the stuff that makes life wonderful.

May the rest of your day have moments to remember and pivots that make you smile. And, if you know anyone looking for part-time work, especially Tuesdays and Thursdays, please send them my way.