08/27/2026
Imagine having a foster dog for two years that nobody wants. Now times that by three.
Thunder. Banksy. Albany. And Arnold gets an honorary place in this story too. That is really where this conversation starts for me.
Long term foster dogs are different. They stop being a temporary addition to your life and slowly become part of the structure of it. Your schedule is built around them. Your own dogs live around them. Your finances absorb them. Your friendships and freedom adjust around them. Your home changes because of them.
And when you’re a trainer, there is another layer. You can see their potential. You know exactly what is underneath the behavior that scares other people away. You see the funny dog, the brilliant dog, the loyal dog, the dog that could thrive with the right person.
Then you watch people pass them over because they don’t fit the furry cuddle hippo version of dog ownership. They aren’t instantly easy. They need boundaries, management, understanding, space or someone willing to actually learn who they are.
That fu***ng hurts.
I keep asking myself why it is so easy for me to find the magic in these dogs when so many other people can’t. But when a hard case stays for years, that yes doesn’t end when the immediate crisis ends. You keep paying for that yes every day.
But when you are the person who usually figures things out, people tend to keep handing you things to figure out.
At some point, being capable starts getting mistaken for having capacity.
And those are not the same thing.
That is where the long term dogs connect to burnout for me.
They aren’t the reason I burned out.
But they became one of the clearest examples of how long I had been living beyond my capacity.
And that’s the part I have to own. ** Continued in comments.