Sit. Stay. Leadership.
I thought I understood leadership.I ran businesses. I gave keynotes. I got applause.
But at home, I was trying to comfort a dog who flinched every time she looked up at the ceiling.
Leadership — real leadership — showed up in my life as a terrified rescue dog with wire scars on her neck and no idea what a ceiling was.
Mo Was the Disney Dog
Mo wasn’t our first dog.But she was that dog.
The magical one. The once-in-a-lifetime one.The one who made you feel safe just by curling up next to you.Funny. Loyal. Sweet. Present.A Pixar character in real life.
She and Sis — her dog sister — were inseparable.
And then, one day, Mo was gone.A UPS truck. One second. That was it.
Sis was devastated.Withdrawn. Depressed. Lost without her companion.
So we got her someone new.
Enter Toots, the Dog Who Feared Ceilings
Toots had never been indoors.She’d lived her whole life outside, tied up with wire.
Not rope. Not chain.Wire.
It left scars on her neck — and probably deeper ones inside.
No soft bed. No human touch.No understanding that anything better existed.
So when she came home with us, she didn’t relax.She froze.
Panicked at every sound.Looked up at the ceiling like it was hunting her.
She didn’t need obedience training.She needed love, safety, and consistency.
And she needed them long before she could even think about trusting us.
She Taught Me How to Lead Gently
Toots didn’t respond to control.She didn’t want a “leader.”She wanted someone who wouldn’t leave.
If I was calm, she softened.If I got frustrated, she disappeared.If I tried to force it, everything got worse.
You don’t earn trust with volume.You earn it by being someone who doesn’t flinch first.
That’s leadership.Not dominance — but dignity.Not command — but presence.
🧭 GUT CHECKAre you trying to be in charge — or trying to be safe to follow?
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“Sit… Treat… Leadership.”
As Toots began to heal — and so did Sis, a little — we eventually got to real training.
Boundaries. Routines. Treats. Structure.
And I started whispering this to myself:
“Sit… treat… leadership.”
Because I’d finally learned:You don’t get to skip the relationship part and jump to the results.Not with dogs. Not with people. Not with yourself.
You have to lead from safety, not control.From clarity, not panic.
And dogs?They know the difference.
So do we.
I Lead Differently Now
Not just with dogs.With people. With work. With my wife.With myself.
I stopped trying to look like a leader.And I started acting like someone worth following:
Grounded. Consistent. Kind.Clear without yelling. Present without tension.Listening more. Correcting less.
And weirdly — it worked better than anything I’d ever done on stage.
❤️ HEART CHECKWho in your life needs less managing and more calm attention?What part of you is still afraid of ceilings?
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What About You?
What kind of leadership are you still learning — and who’s teaching it to you?
What’s your version of wire scars and second chances?
What would change if you whispered “Sit… treat… leadership” to yourself before every hard conversation?
Leave a comment with your Heart or Gut Check.I’d love to hear your story.
Not perfect.Not normal.Just something real — and really good.
Crazy good.
