About us

The star of my world

Let me introduce you to the star of my world – my adorable and utterly charming Australian Labradoodle. She made her grand entrance on August 28, 2021, and let me tell you, my heart has been hers ever since. She’s not just your ordinary fluffy companion; she’s a sweet, intelligent, silly, and oh-so-goofy ball of fur that holds a special place in my heart. I believe she’s the most remarkable dog in the entire Universe – although I might be a tad biased. So yes, let me tell you about the wonderful world of having a dog – a world that’s filled with wagging tails, wet noses, and endless moments of pure joy.

Or is it? 

This is the true story

Let me regale you with the epic tale of Bobbie’s entrance into my life at a mere 8 weeks old. Now, I’m all for a bit of excitement, but little did I know, our adventure was about to take a wild detour into the realm of drama – and a pesky parasite called Giardia. Picture this: Bobbie waltzes in like she owns the place, all cute and cuddly. But barely into her second week home, BAM! Giardia hits the scene. Trust me, it was like a soap opera unfolding. Cue the dramatic music. The battle plan to evict this uninvited guest from Bobbie’s system was nothing short of an odyssey. I’m talking about cleaning marathons that would put a Cinderella story to shame. Every nook and cranny of my house faced the wrath of a steaming machine and anything her paw prints graced had a date with the washing machine by day’s end. I even became a pro at paw-washing and bum-cleaning, folks – skills I never thought I’d list on my resume. Oh, and let’s not forget the culinary revolution that happened in Bobbie’s food bowl. I basically transformed into a doggy nutrition guru, orchestrating a menu makeover to build the superhero strength of her intestines. Because, you know, nobody signs up for a lifetime subscription to “Doggy Digestive Distress Weekly.” Now, before you ask, yes, I did have a life beyond Giardia’s eviction notice. But, I’ll admit, my coaching practice took an unexpected hiatus. Who knew that puppy care + being a (luckily: seasoned) solopreneur + being single could be a full-time gig? Between the hourly walks that were basically dance sessions to avoid those piranha-like puppy teeth, I was practically running a one-(wo)man circus. But through all the chaos, the cleaning, the dietary reinventions, plus the Puppylympics, Bobbie and I forged a bond that’s unbreakable. And honestly this is what I thought, with a wiping cloth in one hand and a steaming machine in the other: if I can survive the Giardia-gate, I can conquer just about anything – or at least I liked to think so.

A comedy of balls, barks and unforeseen twists

Then! The next chapter in this rollercoaster saga: my exquisite arrival into the world of dog-parenting, armed with all the knowledge of a graduate from the prestigious University of Puppy Owners (if only that were a real thing! my brother lives in Switzerland and told me all dog owners are obliged to take on courses after buying a dog there! Clever!). You see, it all started with this well-intentioned decision, a pact made between me and my partner-in-puppy-crime, my best friend. We embarked on a journey of book readings, late-night brainstorming sessions, and YouTube tutorials that could rival a crash course in rocket science. We were ready, or so we thought, to become the Einstein-level geniuses of pup-parenting. Enter Bobbie – my furry little curveball of reality. She had this obsession with tennis balls that would put a seasoned Wimbledon ball boy to shame. In theory, it sounds like an Olympic-worthy endeavor, right? Wrong. Little did I know that this whole ball-fetching frenzy might not be the canine equivalent of a 100-meter sprint. Rookie mistake, they say! But here’s the kicker – Bobbie’s barking, fueled by an insatiable thirst for that spherical sensation, managed to flip my anxiety switch like a pro. It’s like her bark had a direct line to my adrenal glands. And let’s talk about lunchtime strolls, shall we? You’d think a leisurely walk in the park would be a breeze. But oh no, it was more like a high-octane marathon, complete with the nail-biting anticipation of the impending tennis ball showdown. And the aftermath? Well, let’s just say I returned home not only physically drained but also emotionally taxed, like I’d just wrestled a very determined, very fluffy wrestler. And then there was the daily encore, as I dragged my trembling self to my own office after our midday adventure. Picture this: I’m at my desk, staring at my computer screen frantically looking up every website on dog behavior, with in the meantime my mind doing the jitterbug and my body that decided to hold a shiver symposium for the first half-hour post-lunch. And yes people, the ball has officially made its grand exit from the scene. Ta-da! Admit it, you didn’t see that curveball coming, did you?

Leash tug tango

Now, let’s pivot to the captivating chapter of leash pulling. Ah, yes, that enchanting dance where I play the role of a human kite, soaring gracefully as my four-legged partner channels their inner sled dog. It’s a sight to behold, truly. But let me get real with you for a moment – this right here, my friends, is my Everest of triggers. Picture this: there’s me, struggling to maintain some semblance of composure, while my inner Hulk starts flexing its metaphorical muscles. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a good Hulk transformation, but I draw the line at actually taking out my frustrations on my furry sidekick (though I did find myself in a predicament that had me contemplating some seriously stealthy tactics to bid adieu to my beloved troublemaker). So, there I was, caught in a battle of epic proportions – leash in one hand, dignity and restraint in the other wondering silently if I was really ready for a dog in this life. We tugged, we pulled, we performed an impromptu waltz of frustration that would have earned us a standing ovation in any comedic ballet. And then came that moment of ‘surrender’, a literal leash drop that felt like a mic drop for my emotional state. With a heavy heart and maybe a hint of melodrama, I released the reins – “Go on, lead the way, my furry friend. I surrender to your will, but just so you know, my spirit is crushed, and I might have shed a tear or two in the process.” The guy who walked behind me ran towards me and asked: “Ma’am, are you okay? You left the leash of your dog!” I lied and said: “Oh did I, wow I must be so tired,” picked up the leash, witnessing Bobbie looking at me completely cueless. She didn’t run. At all. She just stared at me as if I didn’t understand the game we were playing. Come on! Let’s continue! No Bobbie. I give up. I am tired. Clueless. An emotional wreck thank you very much. Puhlease stop pulling the leash, will you? 

Bobbie’s Gastronomic Escapade

Alright, gather ’round, fellow adventurers, as we delve into the final chapter of the Bobbie Chronicles – the real-life Labradoodle who’s got a taste for the finer things in life, particularly if those things happen to be lying on the street. We’re talking about a culinary explorer here, folks, a Doggie Detective on a quest for the most peculiar and, shall we say, ‘unconventional treats’ the urban jungle has to offer. Now, don’t let that innocent Labradoodle face fool you – Bobbie’s got a sixth sense for street snacks that would put a truffle-hunting pig to shame. Plastic balloon? Check. Razor blade? Oh, you betcha. Cat poop? Yes, folks, we’re entering the realm of gourmet dining here. And brace yourselves, because the list goes on: grass, rope, and yes, even the occasional c*ndom. Let’s just say Bobbie’s Amsterdam adventures have taken an interesting turn. In the grand tradition of superheroes, the moment we step outside, Bobbie morphs into none other than Hunter Bobbie, a fearless explorer ready to conquer the wild streets. Now, as you might imagine, my maternal instincts are on high alert, kicking off a symphony of worry as I watch her gleefully snatch up every street-side delicacy she can find. It’s like a real-life game of “Will She, Won’t She?” that keeps me on the edge of my metaphorical seat. Enter the muzzle – my trusty sidekick in my quest to keep Bobbie’s eclectic culinary escapades in check. But oh, the stares I get! People look at us as if we’re auditioning for a canine version of Hannibal Lecter. Rest assured, dear readers, my sweet Bobbie is about as aggressive as a marshmallow, and the underdog of underdogs when it comes to mingling with her fellow furballs. Now, for a plot twist that even the most skilled storytellers wouldn’t dare to concoct – the day my worst nightmare became a reality. Picture this: Bobbie, the brave gastronomic explorer, indulges in a mystery treat that turns out to be – probably – a piece of hash cake. Yes, folks, we had a canine encounter with the munchies. Cue the panic, cue the frantic rush to the hospital, cue six agonizing hours of waiting, praying, and fervently believing that I might lose her. I was not allowed to stay and wait and I cried like a baby in front of the vet. And in that heart-wrenching moment, amidst all the chaos and the worry, something magical happened. It hit me like a ton of dog biscuits – the love, the bond, the sheer terror of almost losing this four-legged, quirky, dumpster-diving sidekick of mine. So, here’s to Bobbie, the Labradoodle connoisseur of the streets, the one who keeps us on our toes, and who, against all odds, manages to turn the most absurd of adventures into a reminder of the preciousness of every moment we share. And yes, that includes even the hash cake mishap.

A Revelation in Love

And so, dear readers, as the chapters of the Bobbie Chronicles come to a close, I stand before you with a revelation that echoes through the tapestry of these tales – love conquers all, but it also calls for an unflinching look at the shadows within us. Through every twist and turn, every uproarious laughter and heart-stopping scare, Bobbie and I discovered an unbreakable bond, forged in the crucible of our shared experiences. ‘Cause here’s the thing – for all the moments they drive us up the wall, they’re also the ones who can instantly turn our day around with a sloppy kiss or a heart-melting gaze. They’re the reason we venture out into the rain at ungodly hours, they’re the ones who teach us patience (even if it’s the hard way), and they’re the ones who remind us that love comes in all forms – even in the midst of shredded pillows and mysteriously disappearing socks.