My Dog, My Buddha. Kimberly Artley

      My Dog, My Buddha is a game changer for anyone intent on changing the direction of their life, and regaining their dog’s trust and respect.”

      FOREWORD

      For the past 16 years, I’ve dealt with hundreds of dogs with a myriad of issues. Each of these cases has had its share of challenges, rewards, disappointments and victories. No two cases have ever been alike, nor has the strategy I’ve created to resolve each issue. Only one thing has been consistent: “fixing” the human remains the most difficult part of the equation.

      Dog behaviorist and life-coach, Kimberly Artley, has created the ultimate guide to building a life of balance and purpose. She cuts through the nonsense and arrives at the critical conclusion that our dogs are a mirror of exactly who we are. Straightforward and honest, Kimberly leads us to the truth about the impact our energy has on our dog’s behavior and emotional health.

      Never before has there been a book that not only identifies our weaknesses, but tells us how to empower ourselves right back to strength. Although brutally honest, Kimberly’s approach is compassionate – often citing her own failed experiences as the catalyst for change.

      My Dog, My Buddha is a game changer for anyone intent on changing the direction of their life, and regaining their dog’s trust and respect. Open your heart and mind and see where the jewels of wisdom in this beautiful book will take you. I promise, you won’t be sorry.

      Cheri Lucas

      Founder, Second Chance at Love Humane Society

      Dog Trainer & Behaviorist

      PREFACE

      When I’m coaching an individual who’s struggling to figure out what their “purpose” in life is, I always suggest they think back to their childhood and try to remember what it was they did where they’d lose all sense of time. When they were in their ultimate bliss. What filled them with so much joy, satisfaction, and incomparable fulfillment. For me, it was animals. Animals were my comfort, joy, and passion. I surrounded myself with them. If I was at a party, I was “that girl” that hung out with the resident pet. I’d do neighborhood rounds with my World Wildlife Fund magazine, knocking on doors, educating my neighbors, and collecting donations for their cause. When my envelopes got full of change, I taped them up, covered them in stamps, and mailed them off with lots of heart, big love, and full of pride (I still, to this day, wonder if those coin-filled envelopes ever made it).

      Skippy

      At 9 years of age, I was blessed with the best Christmas present ever. A Springer Spaniel puppy. I named him Skippy. Skippy was white with reddish-brown spots all over, freckles on his face, and a spot on his side that was shaped like a heart. He was my pride and joy. Although Skippy had the sweetest disposition, he was a total nightmare; and it wasn’t his fault. We weren’t meeting his needs as a dog, and certainly didn’t put in the time, effort, and energy to guide, teach, and way-show. Skippy was unfairly labeled a holy terror, and was sent away by my mother because of it. I came home from school one day, and Skippy was nowhere to be found. He was gone. To say I was absolutely crushed is a total understatement.

      Tucker and Lobo

      Fast forward 18 years and enter a new teacher, my first sole responsibility dog, Lobo. Did I know what I was doing? Not really, but I was eager to learn. Lobo went everywhere with me, and was a favorite at our local haunts. I made it a point to expose him to various environments and scenarios, teach him commands and tricks, and did my best to help him become as well-rounded as he could be.

      A few years after his arrival, a new pup entered our pack, Tucker. Lobo was an amazing big brother to Tuck, and took him right under his paw; but not soon after, my marriage went sour… and a switch in my Lobo flicked. Once a very social, happy-go-lucky dog, he became protective and “aggressive”. What was happening?! I spent every last dollar on trainers, moving through 6 of them. The 6th one was a “Board and Train” program, where he would live with the trainer for 2 weeks. While Lobo responded well to his training and new surroundings, he quickly reverted back to his protective tendencies and aggressive behaviors as soon as he returned to me (*big clue*).

      I exhausted all of my resources, attempts to place him, and find even more help. Sadly, he ended up biting someone and the decision was made to have him put down. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. It took me many, many years to stop blaming myself for this; and still remains a daily process. Lobo paid the ultimate price because I couldn’t keep my sh*t together. He stepped up, because I wasn’t and didn’t. The divorce and its many offshoots, and