My dog Lilly was a rescue. She was found dying under a dumpster in Los Angeles at three months old, covered in burns and mange, barely conscious. What she endured in those early months, and in the terrifying moments of her own rescue, is unconscionable. My husband had a Chihuahua when we met... in fact, that dog was the reason we met, he hired me to train her, and the rest was history. She became his soul dog, and losing her to a brain tumor at nine years old broke him. For a long time he couldn't imagine having another Chihuahua; it was too painful a reminder. Then my own soul dog passed away, and the grief was so overwhelming that I knew if I didn't rescue another soul right away, I'd stay lost in it. That's when we found Lilly. My husband was apprehensive...until the moment I put her in his arms, and he melted completely. They bonded instantly and she became his constant companion. 

 

Then he was diagnosed with young-onset Lewy body dementia, given roughly five years to live. Over the terrifying and painful years that followed, I watched this disease dismantle not just my husband, but his relationship with Lilly. Because of everything she'd already survived as a puppy, she was an especially sensitive dog, and I could see her struggling to understand his sudden mood swings and outbursts. He never once turned that aggression toward her, thankfully, she was the one soul in the house spared from it directly, but she still had to live inside a home that no longer felt safe or predictable. I was watching the man I loved disappear in front of me, grieving him while he was still alive, caring for him around the clock with almost no outside help, all while trying to console a dog who had no way of understanding why her person now sometimes acted like someone else entirely.

 

He also developed REM sleep disorder, a condition strongly tied to Lewy Body dementia specifically, in which the body's normal muscle paralysis during REM sleep fails, and a person physically acts out their dreams. In dementia patients, these dreams are often violent, and there is often no waking them mid-episode. I was injured more than once. And through all of it, Lilly was there too, left to witness her daddy seemingly attacking her mommy, with no way to understand it as illness rather than danger. The entire household turned upside down: the sleep schedule, constant doctor appointments, a hospital bed, a walker, a wheelchair, feeding schedules that could no longer hold steady. Walks were cut in half, sometimes eliminated entirely. At her lowest point, Lilly stopped eating and drinking altogether. I was now caring for both of them.

 

A month after his official diagnosis, my son was in a serious car accident and broke his neck in two places. This was also during COVID. I was caring for my husband, caring for my son through his recovery, and watching my dog fall apart, all at once, running on almost no sleep, terrified of getting sick and sinking into an exhaustion and depression so heavy I genuinely couldn't see a way through it. But I knew Lilly would keep declining if I didn't do something. So I sat myself down and consulted with myself the way I would with a client. I built her a plan. I started carving out thirty minutes twice a day, every day, just for her, even when that meant leaving my husband alone briefly to do it. She needed that walk. So did I. Slowly, I shifted her onto a new daily rhythm, gradually easing her away from the source of her distress the same way you'd wean a dog from one food to another... small, incremental changes, day after day, until they added up to something real. And they did. She came back to herself.

 

Every household living through this is different. Every dog is different, shaped by age, breed, temperament, who they're most bonded to, and what their life looked like before any of this started. There's no generic fix, only a detailed, individualized plan built around that specific dog and that specific home circumstances. I know what this kind of grief and exhaustion feels like from the inside, five years of it, with almost no support system and no financial ability to hire in-home care, and precious little help available through the state. I was expected to be a full-time, round-the-clock caregiver, hold down work, and somehow keep a roof over our heads, all at once, with minimal sleep. Looking back now, I honestly don't know how I did it. If I can be nothing more than a steady shoulder and a willing ear for someone going through even a piece of what I went through, I want to be that for them, because I would have given anything to have had that myself. I'm deeply grateful for the friends who supported me where they could, but with no family on either side and friends working full-time, most of it fell to me alone, including trying to stay present for my son as he watched his father slowly disappear.

 

This is why the work matters to me. As a wife, I understand the pain that a spouse can go through dealing with this. As a mother, I understand how grueling it is for the children who are being expected to cope with all of these changes. As a former Paramedic, I'm trained in family trauma and crisis management, thus, I'm able to handle the deep emotions of others in their time of need. As an animal behaviorist, I understand how our pets react and grieve in the process of these changes in the household. And as a widow, I understand how the grief of losing a loved one can make it possible to overlook the serious emotional consequences on our pets. Normal life is hard enough and then you put something like this in the mix and everyone is suffering. Cats tend to be more independent and less visibly reactive than dogs, but that doesn't mean cats are unaffected. So it's not just dogs that I can help with. And this isn't only for families caring for someone else. Some people are living alone with their own dementia diagnosis and know their pet is struggling right alongside them and they have nowhere to turn for guidance. I'm here for that too.

 

What's included: 

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1 hour consult — $225

 

4-Week Package — $450

5 hours total, including a 1–2 hour initial phone consultation. Use the remaining hours as needed throughout the month.

 

8-Week Package — $750

9 hours total, including your 1–2 hour initial consultation. Use the remaining hours as needed across the two months.

 

Once your hours are used, you're welcome to purchase a new package to continue.

 

Scheduling: Sessions are typically scheduled within 48 hours of your request.

 

Billing: Sessions are billed in full-hour increments. If you need to end a session early, any time past the 45-minute mark still counts as a full hour used. Any time before 30 minutes, 30 minutes will be added back to your account.

Make your payment below by either clicking on the Venmo image or scanning the QR code with your phone to take you directly to payment and then email here, listing what you have selected in terms of a package and someone will get back to you within 48 hours. You can also email any questions you may have, prior to making a payment. If you live outside the U.S. and would like services, contact me for a different form of payment. 

 

When you reach out to schedule a consultation, it helps to include a few details upfront so I can prepare and make the most of our time together: your dog's name, age, and breed; a brief history of your household's dementia diagnosis (who has it, how long it's been present, and roughly how far it's progressed); the specific behavior changes you're noticing in your dog; how long these changes have been happening; and anything you've already tried. If there are other pets, people, or caregivers in the home, let me know that too...the more context I have going in, the more useful our first conversation can be.

 

For Families Who Can't Afford Full Pricing

 

Every family should have access to guidance during one of the hardest chapters life can bring. I offer three free one-hour consultations per month to dementia caregivers who cannot afford standard pricing. Spots are limited; once filled, you're welcome to join the wait-list, and I'll reach out as soon as one opens. You can also have someone donate a session or package on your behalf. If this service has helped you and you're able, consider paying it forward so another family can receive the same support. Click the Venmo logo below or use your camera for the QR code link. Please note: your donation on behalf of someone else is not tax deductible.

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