They Told Me to Euthanize My dog...

There are dogs that teach us how to train.

And then there are dogs that completely change the course of our lives.

I remember feeling hopeless when I took this photo. Leo was my best friend, and I couldn't find anyone that was willing or able to help us in the way that he needed to be helped.

Leo was the second kind.

I occasionally receive messages asking if I'm a dog behaviorist, an animal psychologist, or if I only use force-free, positive reinforcement training.

The answer is no to all these things.

Not because I haven't studied those approaches.

Not because I dismiss them.

But because I lived through what happened when those approaches weren't enough for my own dog. And since becoming a professional trainer, I've continued to meet families who found themselves in that same position, feeling helpless because even the professionals aren't making progress.

This is the story of why I train the way I do.

The Dog Everyone Told Me Couldn't Be Helped

Before I ever became a professional dog trainer, I was just someone desperately trying to save a dog I loved.

His name was Leo.

He was approximately six or seven years old when I adopted him in the fall of 2017. He wasn't an abused dog. He wasn't a "broken" dog. He was a good dog who ended up in a shelter just before a hurricane hit the coast.

After a traumatic incident where we were both attacked, Leo became intensely protective of me, especially when other humans approached us both.

I did exactly what everyone told me to do.

I sought help.

I hired professionals.

I followed their training plans exactly as they told me to.

I spent countless hours and over $10,000 trying to do everything "the right way."

For more than a year, I was told to reward, redirect, manage, avoid triggers, and be patient. Trust the process.

When those plans didn't change the behavior, I wasn't given another training plan. I was told to give up on him.

"The Kindest Thing Is to Euthanize Him."

I was told the most humane option was behavioral euthanasia.

I even asked whether we could try different training tools because we hadn't explored that avenue yet.

By that point, I'd worked with seven different professionals, all recommending essentially the same approach—and none of it had changed Leo's behavior. In fact, it got worse with the constant redirection and just trying to avoid everything and everyone.

I was told corrective training tools would only make things worse, and that euthanasia was the kindest option left.

Think about that for a second.

The people with the most impressive credentials believed ending his life was kinder than trying a different approach.

I wasn't willing to accept that.

Kill this dog because everyone with letters after their name (extensive education, touting thousands of resolved cases of aggression) said there was nothing else to try?

Absolutely not.

The Day Everything Changed

After a year of no progress, I finally met a trainer who looked at Leo's behavior differently. He was the ninth dog professional I hired for help with Leo's issues.

He taught me something incredibly simple.

How to clearly tell my dog "no."

How to follow through so that "no" had meaning—without being upset, frustrated, or angry.

How to create boundaries instead of endlessly negotiating with dangerous behavior.

That single shift changed everything.

Leo never became the monster I was told he would become if I used corrective training.

From the day I learned how to communicate clear boundaries, I never worried again about Leo trying to protect me by going after another person that wasn't a threat.

Not once.

He became an emotionally stable dog that was so incredibly friendly that those that met him after our shift to a new training approach never believed me when I told them he used to lunge at anyone that came near us.

A few months later, in February of 2019, I walked away from my career in wildlife management and dove headfirst into the world of dog behavior. I invested all of my time, money and resources into learning everything I could, even the detailed approaches from those behaviorists that did not work for my own dog. I worked with rescue organizations and animal shelters and started pulling behaviorally challenged dogs from shelters, fostering them to train them up, and finding the perfect placement for them.

I started Sunshine K9 Training as a hobby because I wanted to help people who were just as desperate for answers as I had been. In my time working with shelters, I realized how many dogs were actually euthanized because of their behavior and it broke my heart because I knew how to stop a lot of the problems that led them to death's door. I felt it was my responsibility to learn all aspects and methodologies of training so that if one way fell short, we could utilize a different approach to give a dog another chance at living.

Providence Water Fire - July 2019

That July, Leo became living proof of what I'd experienced firsthand.

We attended Water Fire in Providence, Rhode Island—an event where thousands of people gather along the waterfront.

Taking a break after walking through THOUSANDS of people at the Providence Water Fire in July 2019. A friend took this photo as "proof" of what hard work can accomplish with an "impossible to train" dog.

Leo calmly walked beside me as we navigated through the crowd.

He happily greeted at least a hundred complete strangers.

His tail wagged. His body language was loose, comfortable, and calm.

He wasn't protective.

He wasn't afraid.

Neither was I.

(This is one of my favorite memories of him because it wasn't just proof that Leo had changed. It was proof that I had been given the wrong answers when I was told there was no hope.)

Leo's Legacy

Leo lived another six wonderful years. He traveled with me. He became the dog everyone said he could never become. He passed away from old age in August of 2023—not because of his behavior.

And he wasn't euthanized. He passed away in his sleep.

I often think about how close I came to making a decision I would have regretted for the rest of my life—not because Leo couldn't be helped, but because I hadn't yet found someone who could teach me how to help him. That realization has stayed with me every single day since.

Leo's last adventure to Saint Marys, Georgia

Why I Train the Way I Do

I know what it feels like to be sitting across from a dog trainer, terrified they're about to tell you your dog can't be helped.

I've been there.

In fact, half of the professionals I worked with told me to my face that Leo should be euthanized all while he was standing right there not doing anything wrong. The others made the recommendation by email or text and never spoke to me again. I was told they rarely made that recommendation, but later I learned that wasn't true. It's common for trainers that are stuck in a single methodology that if that doesn't work, it's the end of the line for the dog.

Let's go back in time to the last force-free behaviorist interaction I had before changing our approach...

The eighth professional I worked with before walking away from that entire approach was a veterinary behaviorist. By that point, Leo had already been through months of training, behavior modification exercises, and multiple medications. I followed every recommendation that was given to me, yet nothing about his protective behavior had changed.

What confused me most was that our goals didn't seem to be the same.

My goal was simple: I wanted Leo to be able to safely receive veterinary care without trying to lunge at the staff. That's what I hired her for. She said she could help.

But the behaviorist's goal was different. She created a plan that didn't make sense to me based on our goal. She wanted Leo to become comfortable enough with her that she could remove his muzzle and kiss him on the forehead. I remember telling her that I didn't understand how that would solve the problem we were actually there to address.

Looking back now, after years of studying canine body language myself, I can also see things I couldn't recognize then. Leo's body was tense. His eyes were wide. His posture was stiff. To me, he looked deeply uncomfortable. All things this highly acclaimed professional should have been aware of. I voiced my concerns when the behaviorist decided to remove his muzzle. I told her I wasn't comfortable with it and asked her not to.

She removed it anyway.

Leo immediately lunged.

Fortunately, because I was holding his leash and reacted quickly, he caused only a scratch instead of a catastrophic injury.

Afterward, I was told I shouldn't have pulled him away as that would create a negative association with her and that I should have allowed the interaction to continue even though it was clear that he wanted to bite her. But at the end of that appointment, I was told Leo was unchangeable and that behavioral euthanasia was my only humane option. I've told this story before and have been advised to stop sharing it, but I'll never stop. I made the appointment to euthanize Leo the following week. The day of the appointment, I called when I was in the parking lot, and the vet called me back to tell me she was not comfortable putting her staff at risk to euthanize him and she recommended I take him to the next county over to euthanize him via .22. Yup. She told me I should shoot him instead so that her staff didn't have to put the needle in him despite him being already sedated in the car. The exact words were "put a bullet between his eyes so he goes down quick" and then justified it as humane because it would keep everyone safe even though he was passed out in the car from all the drugs they had given me in preparation for this appointment.

Obviously, I didn't go that route, and it made me search even harder for someone that might have a better alternative.

But that recommendation has stayed with me ever since. Makes me think of all the times a canine professional has recommended "humane" euthanasia but actually meant what she told me that day.

In the seven years that I've been training dogs professionally; I've had the serious behavioral euthanasia conversation with clients only three times. Not because I refuse to consider it, but because I believe it should be reserved for the most severe and dangerous situations, after every reasonable option has been explored.

Those three dogs were nothing like Leo.

One launched an unprovoked attack on an adult family member, causing injuries that required more than 100 stitches, plastic surgery, and extensive physical and mental health treatment. Another launched an unprovoked attack on an infant. The third attacked me while the owners stood by, unable to physically stop the dog or safely remove him from me. Given the severity of that attack, the owners' inability to safely manage the dog, and the ethical concerns surrounding rehoming such a dangerous animal, behavioral euthanasia became part of the discussion—but only after I encouraged them to seek guidance from the very trainer who gave me the life-changing information that saved Leo's life.

Those conversations were heartbreaking. As humans, we all have ideas of right and wrong, and in those three cases, the dogs had crossed lines that resulted in catastrophic harm. There wasn't an easy answer. There wasn't a "good" outcome. Those are the kinds of situations that leave families forever changed and make everyone involved question what the most ethical path forward really is.

Those cases have stayed with me, just as Leo's case has.

Thankfully, I didn't stop looking for someone who could help us. And thankfully, Leo never crossed the line that made me feel that euthanasia truly was the right option.

So yes... when it comes to training dogs, I do the following:

I use food.

I use play.

I use relationship-building.

I use leash pressure.

I use management techniques to avoid some situations.

I use crates.

I use rewards.

I use remote collars.

I use prong collars.

And yes, when appropriate, I also believe in fair, well-timed consequences.

I don't believe in punishing dogs out of our own frustration.

I believe in giving dogs clear information they can understand to help them make choices that align with how we want our pets to exist with us.

Not because I enjoy correcting dogs.

Because I know what can happen when people refuse to.

My goal has never been to fit neatly into a training label. My goal is to keep dogs in their homes. To keep families together. To prevent unnecessary euthanasia whenever there's still a path forward. To solve problems in a way that is fair, humane, and effective.

And to me? Fair, humane, and effective does not equal euthanasia.

You don't have to agree with how I accomplish the training goals owners have.

There are many excellent trainers with philosophies different from mine, and every family deserves the freedom to choose the trainer they feel is the best fit.

But when someone asks why I train the way I do...

The answer has never been to please anyone.

The answer has always been that I think dogs deserve a real chance at living.

Leo got that chance.

I want to help other dogs get theirs.

In Honor of Leo

As we approach the anniversary of Leo's passing on August 17th, I want to do something meaningful in his honor.

For families facing serious behavior issues who feel like they've tried everything, I want to offer a limited opportunity. Now through the end of 2026, those reaching out referencing this post or Leo's story may be granted $1000 off of our behavior modification program.

This isn't for everyone.

It's for the people who are serious about making real change.

The ones who are open to learning, open to structure, and ready to approach their dog's behavior with an open mind.

If that sounds like you, I'd love to hear your story.

The link below will take you to our dog training application.

Get in touch with the trainer now!

Think of it as an opportunity to give me a glimpse into your life with your dog—what you've tried, what you're struggling with, and what you hope life could look like.

Once you submit the application, you'll be redirected to schedule a phone call with me.

We'll talk through your situation, discuss what's already been tried, and decide together whether I'm the right person to help.

Because I know real change is possible.

I've lived it.

And over the last seven years, I've had the privilege of helping hundreds of families make dramatic changes with their dogs instead of believing they had run out of options.

If Leo's story teaches us anything, it's this:

Sometimes there is another path, even when you've been told there isn't.

I'd love to hear your story, learn about your goals, and see if Sunshine K9 Training is the right fit for you.

Whether you're struggling with a serious behavior issue or simply want to build a stronger relationship with your dog, we'd love to have that conversation.

Some families come to us because they're facing serious behavior problems.

Others simply want the freedom to enjoy life with their dog—to travel, hike, visit pet-friendly stores, relax at breweries, or welcome guests into their home without stress.

I'd love the opportunity to help you find the path that brings out the very best in your dog.

Because sometimes, the story doesn't end the way you've been told it will.

Let's Find the Right Path for Your Dog

Forever one of my favorite photos of Leo as we traveled the country together, showing families and their dogs what's possible when you're willing to walk a different path!