Koda's Story - The Real Reason Behind My Dog Training Journey

Why I'm a harsh critic of rescues and shelters, poorly matched adoptions, and force-free training.

Koda

Here’s my story about Koda. It’s a hard one, and even so many years later, it’s difficult to tell. But it’s something that changed me, led me to deepen my understanding of dogs, and ultimately reshaped my entire perspective on training and adoption.

It started with Roxie, my first Rottweiler and an absolute dream dog—well behaved, gentle, and wonderful with my toddler son. They were like the characters from the *Carl* books, and Roxie had become a beloved family member in every way.

One day, I found myself scrolling PetFinder. That’s when I saw him—a mini Australian Shepherd mix with ears too big for his face. His name was Little Man, but obviously I would change it to Batty Koda after my favorite Robin Williams character from one of my most favorite childhood movies. The application process was quick and painless and he was scheduled for transport in no time. He became my heart dog, my “soul dog,” as some people say. He and Roxie were best friends.

Roxie

This post isn't actually about Roxie...that's a tale for another time...and how I learned the extreme importance of seriously researching breeders and knowing what to look for before purchasing from them. Roxie ended up being put down just before her third birthday and I was devastated.

She left a gaping hole in my heart, and I convinced myself Koda needed a new friend. In hindsight, I see now that he was perfectly happy because of the relationship he had with me and my kids. But I wasn't as educated then as I am now so I found a pretty face with a good write up and submitted my application for Willow.

She had the biggest pittie smile and her pink-tinged coat and beautiful people-like eyes won me over. She was stunning. My knowledge of training back then was purely force free, reward based only, and I believed all the narratives about pit bulls being “nanny dogs”. I thought I was doing a good thing, that I was saving her simply by bringing her into my home.

When Willow arrived, she seemed confident, tail curled high over her back as she explored the yard. She kicked after going potty, which I found cute and funny. I didn’t know much about body language back then, but now I recognize the signs of a dog with a strong, assertive personality. Koda was immediately not a fan.

The first incident happened in the house. Koda snapped at Willow. I said the typical, "It came out of nowhere." (which is almost never true by the way...it just means we missed something) She didn't overly react, and I let myself believe they were just working through their boundaries. The rescue assured me they just needed time to settle in. I trusted their guidance, assuming they knew best. But the truth was, I didn’t have the knowledge to interpret what was really happening.

The second incident also "came out of nowhere", this time outside. It escalated quickly, and the three of us ended up on the ground as I scrambled to pull them apart. Somehow, they came out unscathed. I reached out again for help, even asking the rescue if Willow might be better suited elsewhere. They encouraged me to keep giving it time, that they’d adjust. Another piece of advice I received was "they're dogs, they'll figure it out." I wanted to believe them, but my gut was telling me something wasn’t right.

Willow

The final incident was my worst nightmare. I’d just brought Willow in from the yard and turned to hang up her leash. A sudden noise behind me made me whirl around. Koda was under the end table with Willow bearing down on him. I tried pulling her away, but she lunged back. When I pulled her out a second time, she had Koda in her mouth, gave one shake and released him. She then went straight to her crate as instructed. But this time, Koda wasn't acting right.

I sat on the living room floor trying to get Koda into my lap as he paced the edges of the room in an odd posture, coughing every once in a while. He wouldn't come to me and he wouldn't stop pacing. After the next cough, there was blood on the floor.

I rushed him to the vet who sent me and hour down the interstate to the emergency clinic. They took him from me, asked me to sign off on expenses, and brought me to a small room to wait. After not too long, they told me they weren't sure his injuries but he had now been receiving CPR for a few minutes and attempts to intubate had all failed. They asked me if I wanted them to continue. Of course, I said yes! Maybe five minutes later they returned to ask me the same question but this time also gave me some education. I told them it was ok to stop.

They then brought me my lifeless dog in a towel so I could hold him one more time. He was gone. My sweet, loving Koda—my soul dog—was gone.I don’t think I’ll ever forget the weight of him in my arms, my Batty Koda. Holding him didn't feel the same. Holding him felt like touching emptiness. I hated it actually.

The rescue took Willow back at my request. I was a mess and I felt angry, guilty, and so so sad. A family member drove me and Willow to meet the rescue volunteer. I knew her next adopter would be able to love her without a grudge.

That night, I received a call from the rescue informing me they put Willow down as they have a policy against rehoming dogs who had killed other animals.....they gave her lots of love and a McDonald's cheeseburger beforehand though. They meant it as kindness, but it didn’t ease the weight of what had happened.

(Down the road, I would help a local foster from the same rescue with a young, male, pitbull while she went on vacation and end up adopting him. The rescue waived his adoption fee because of this incident. Kyle....he lived with me until he was 10 and died in 2022)

This experience tore me open. It shattered my trust in the rescue system, forced me to question the “adopt don’t shop” mindset, and made me confront the reality of force free training’s limitations. Willow wasn’t a bad dog. She needed structure, boundaries, and a leader who understood her needs—a need that went beyond treats and praise.

Koda’s story changed everything for me. It taught me the importance of truly knowing and understanding a dog’s behavior, of understanding body language and the subtle ways in which dogs communicate. This is what led me to balanced training, to the understanding that some behaviors need more than positive reinforcement. Dogs communicate with each other through spatial pressure, corrections, and they reinforce boundaries. They need more than rewards to feel safe; they need someone who can lead them.

Today, I’m here to help dog owners who might be in a similar place. Balanced training isn’t about punishment; it’s about giving dogs the clear guidance they crave. I never want anyone to experience what I went through with Koda, and I hope this story helps even one person see that there are other ways to build a healthy, fulfilling bond with their dog.

I wish I could tell you this doesn't happen often, but that would be a lie. To anyone who feels lost, there are other paths. I wholeheartedly believe if I had the knowledge and skills back then that I have today, Willow and Koda would've lived out their lives happily in my home. Being open minded to different types of training opened doors I didn’t know existed, and I’m here to help if you’re ready to try.

Click here to read about a recent client's story