08/05/2026
People ask me all the time what kind of training I follow.
Positive reinforcement? Force-free? Behavioural? Relationship-based?
The truth is, I’ve never been interested in fitting myself neatly into one philosophy.
Not because I don’t believe in science.
But because I don’t believe a living being should ever be understood through a single lens.
Working in high-risk mental health changed me long before it changed the way I trained dogs.
It taught me that behaviour is rarely the beginning of the story.
By the time behaviour reaches us, it has already travelled through relationships, learning histories, stress, safety, expectations, and experience.
Behaviour is simply where we finally notice the story.
Living with Indy only deepened that belief.
So when people ask what philosophy I follow, my answer is simple:
I’m not loyal to a method. I’m loyal to understanding the individual standing in front of me.
That means I draw from learning theory, ethology, neuroscience, behaviour analysis, attachment, and trauma-informed principles… not because I’m searching for the “best” method, but because no single discipline can fully explain another living being.
The longer I do this work, the less interested I become in asking,
“How do I change this behaviour?”
Instead, I ask,
“What has this individual learned that makes this response make sense?”
Because behaviour has never felt random to me.
It’s communication.
It’s adaptation.
It’s information.
Every interaction leaves behind an expectation.
Every relationship teaches us something about the world.
Maybe that’s why I don’t train for behaviours.
I train for relationships.
Because I hope, years from now, Indy won’t remember every cue I taught him.
I hope he’ll remember what it felt like to be understood. 🤎
