I didn’t grow up breeding dogs.
In fact, I grew up in the “adopt-don’t-shop” rescue world—where every intact dog was a problem waiting to happen. I even teased my parents about their un-neutered dogs, joking that I was going to become a vet and sneak in at night to “steal their balls.”
Fast forward a few years, and not only had I become a vet, I had fallen completely in love with something I didn’t expect: reproductive medicine.
The science of reproduction felt like magic.
I discovered reproductive physiology during my master’s program in animal science, and it completely lit me up. It wasn’t just the hormone charts or the timing—it was the realization that, with the right knowledge, you could help create life where it wasn’t guaranteed.
There’s something extraordinary about that.
About intervening just enough to tip the scales in nature’s favor. About using medicine, timing, and trust to help bring beings into the world who otherwise wouldn’t be here.
That sense of possibility still gives me chills.
And it’s what made me want to dedicate my veterinary career to reproduction.
I knew the science. But they knew the world.
But when I started working with breeders as a brand new baby vet, I was terrified.
I hadn’t even seen a dog whelp in real life until my third year of vet school.
Meanwhile, the breeders I wanted to serve had decades of experience. They were flying in semen, showing in rings I didn’t even know existed, and keeping lineage records like historians.
I was a vet.
But I was new.
And I didn’t want to mess it up.
I wanted to help them—but I didn’t always know how.
Worse, I wasn’t even sure who I could ask without exposing myself as a fraud.
Were the practices breeders swore by really sound? Or were they well-meaning traditions that might harm a dam or cost someone a litter? I didn’t know how to tell the difference.
So I did what I’ve always done when I’m overwhelmed:
I started learning.
I read scientific studies and breeder forums.
I attended veterinary conferences and dog shows.
I read textbooks by day and Facebook group threads by night.
I searched for answers in journal articles and comment sections alike—trying to bridge the gap between science and experience.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something important:
I wasn’t alone.
There were so many breeders—especially those just starting out—who felt the same way.
Smart, dedicated, well-researched women who desperately wanted to do things right but kept bumping into conflicting advice, unclear timelines, and a whole lot of second-guessing.
They didn’t need a know-it-all.
They needed someone to help them sort signal from noise.
That’s when I decided to become the vet I wish I’d had—and the colleague they deserve.
I’ve slowly learned that I don’t need to be perfect.
I will never have every answer.
And that’s okay.
What I can do—and what I love to do—is listen.
Really listen.
To someone’s frustration. Their “almosts.” Their “I did everything right and still…” stories.
And then? I help them untangle the mess.
We look at the science. We look at the dog. We make a plan.
Because sometimes the most helpful thing you can offer someone is a calm voice and a steady hand.
If you’re looking for someone to teach you how to win the show ring—I’ll be honest: that’s not me.
But if you’re looking for a science-based partner in the process of getting healthy puppies on the ground… I’ve got you.
And in the coming weeks, I’m going to be sharing something I’ve built for breeders like you—something that gives you clarity, a system, and real support when things don’t go as planned.
You don’t need to do this alone.
You just need someone who’s been there—and who cares enough to help you figure it out.
Stay tuned. I’ll be in your corner every step of the way.
💌 Want to make sure you don’t miss what’s coming?
I’ve got something special on the way for breeders who want to breed smarter, not just hope harder.
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