Nancy and maggie

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I began learning how to train dogs in Santa Fe, New Mexico in February 2017. I had arrived at the park with Spirit, my cattle dog/border collie mix (pictured to the right) and Dulce, my Terrier mix piled in the back of my little 1980 Datsun where they barked and barked and barked and barked.

I was at my wit's end. I had never thought of going to a trainer; I figured I should just KNOW how to handle dogs. Love them and they will love me back and do what they are supposed to do.

But not.

Spirit attacked busses and little dogs, and even her shadow. She had been found on the meridian on Cerrillos Road and an acquaintance at HIS wit's end asked me to take her. Dulce was a potentially sweet dog but was reactive and too clever and totally self-willed. 

David said he couldn't work with me: my dogs were too fat, self-rewarding and neither needed nor wanted anything from me.

When David saw how distraught I was, he had a softening of his heart and said, "If you go home and feed your dogs only by hand with a "watch Me" command before each bite, and you come back in a week, perhaps we can work together."

I did as he instructed and returned the next week with more manageable and agreeable dogs. We began laying the foundation for training. (Training is ALWAYS happening and it also doesn't start till the foundation is laid. One of many oxymorons in the life of a trainer.)

I began apprenticing with David and two and a half years later set up my own shingle as a dog trainer. We had done a lot: About 300 hours of training. Hours of Search & Rescue, and more hours of community presentations and mentoring of high school kids for three seasons.