How raising a puppy made me a better leader, manager, and human
Anyone who knows me knows I’m a dog person — capital D, capital P. But raising a new puppy recently reminded me that, for all the years I’ve spent managing talent, navigating egos, or producing projects, nothing quite humbles you like the early days with a four-legged baby who chews like it’s their job and listens only when it’s convenient.
I’ve learned (or maybe relearned) a few life lessons through the experience — things that have made me a better version of myself not just at home, but at work, with friends, and in life.
Here are three big ones:
- Patience Isn’t Optional — It’s Everything.
You can’t rush a puppy. You can try, but good luck with that. They’ll pee where they shouldn’t, bark when you’re on a Zoom, and turn your favorite sneaker into modern art. But something wild happens when you stop trying to control every outcome and start meeting them where they are — they start to trust you. They learn. You both grow.
Same with people. Whether it’s a client finding their voice, a partner building confidence, or someone new figuring out their place in the room — patience isn’t just kind, it’s strategic. I’ve learned that real leadership means slowing down, breathing through the chaos, and showing up again the next day with consistency.
- Consequences Are How We Learn — Not Punishment.
I used to think “discipline” was about correction. But with puppies, it’s more about communication. If I don’t set clear boundaries, how can I expect them to understand what’s okay and what’s not? And when they do get it wrong — which they will — it’s not about punishing them, it’s about helping them connect the behavior to the result.
This is true in business and life. Mistakes don’t define us — how we respond to them does. I’ve learned to be more thoughtful about the way I give feedback and the systems I set up, whether I’m raising a dog or mentoring a young assistant. Fair consequences build trust. Arbitrary ones break it.
- Save the Drama for the Real Drama.
There’s no room for theatrics when you’re cleaning up a puppy disaster at 3 a.m. You just deal. Puppies don’t care about your stress or your ego. They care if you’re grounded. They care if you’re safe. They respond to your energy — not your words.
It reminded me how much unnecessary drama we let into our lives. How many things we overreact to. In this business, drama is currency — but only when it serves the story. In real life? It’s noise. I’ve started asking myself: Is this a real crisis, or just a moment I need to manage better?
Raising this puppy hasn’t just been about training her — it’s been about re-training me. To lead with love. To communicate clearly. To chill the hell out when it’s not that deep. And most importantly, to remember that connection is built moment by moment — not by perfection, but by presence.
And in case you’re wondering — yes, Emmy’s still chewing things. But now she brings them to me first, and that’s progress.
