About Us

I've been asked a couple of times,

“How did you get started with German Shepherds?”

Well, it’s a bit of a long story, so buckle up!

It all started with my Mom, my Grandma, & the movie Beverly Hills Chihuahua,

and an all-breed dog show back in 2012.

I was born into the dog world, specifically the world of Shetland Sheepdogs. My grandma still breeds & shows Shelties so dogs are pretty much all I ever knew growing up. From the time I could walk, I was right there beside her learning the ropes. I was hands-on with everything, breeding, whelping, raising, training, and showing. I even got to show a Rough Collie in conformation for a complete stranger I met at a dog show
when I was just 11 years old. That’s how deep into the dog show world I was at the time.

Now, you might laugh, but my love for German Shepherds actually started with Beverly Hills Chihuahua. Yes, the movie about a tiny Chihuahua! I remember watching it for the first time and becoming completely captivated, not by the Chihuahua, but by Delgado, the German Shepherd. He was brave, noble, and incredibly beautiful. There was just something about him that sparked something inside me, and that spark later turned into a burning passion during an all-breed dog show somewhere in Michigan in 2012. I was there with my grandma, who was showing two of her
Shelties at the time, and my mom (who somehow got roped into helping her wrangle the dogs, crates, & grooming supplies). I was mostly just there for the thrill of it all, 

wandering around, and soaking it all in. Dog shows are chaotic in the best way. You’ve got the sound of clippers buzzing, handlers rushing by with perfectly groomed dogs, the smell of hot dogs (the edible kind) and all kinds of grooming products lingering in the air. It’s a bit overwhelming, but also magical. 

At some point during the afternoon, I noticed a crowd gathering. People were oohing and aahing, dogs were barking, and there was this electric buzz in the air. Naturally, being my curious, and maybe a little nosy self, I tugged on my mom’s arm and begged her to take me over to see what was going on. She looked at me, then at my grandma juggling two Shelties, and said, “okay let's go look!

What I saw next changed everything. There was a man giving a presentation about military and police dogs their training, what they do in real-life situations, and how they are selected. I was already intrigued, but then they brought out a dog unlike any I’d ever seen before. A Black Sable Working Line Male German Shepherd. He was big, muscular, intense, and completely focused. His ears were up, eyes locked on his
handler, like he was reading his handler's mind. The handler gave a command, and in an instant, the dog took off after a decoy dressed in protective gear.  The decoy was pretending to be a threat, flailing around and shouting. The German Shepherd hit him like a missile, fast, controlled, confident. Not wild or out of control, but with purpose. It wasn’t scary, it was actually breathtaking. I remember the thud when he latched onto the sleeve, how the crowd gasped, how my heart was pounding in my chest. That moment lit a fire inside me that no one could put out. I was hooked. I turned to my mom, eyes wide, and told her right then and there: “I needed, not wanted but needed German Shepherd! I often wonder what my life would look like today if she wouldn’t
have taken me over to see what was going on

So began four long years of me begging. Every. Single. Day. I promised everything a kid could promise. I’d feed it, walk it, train it. I’d wake up early. I’d never ask for anything again. I made Power Point presentations. I left sticky notes on the fridge. I may or may not have written dramatic diary entries and conveniently left them open for my mom to “accidentally” find. It became more than a dream, it became a mission.

Then, one afternoon in October of 2016, it finally happened! My mom told me to get in the car. No explanation. No hints. Just a casual, “Get in. Let’s go.” I tried to guess where we were headed, rattling off possibilities in the back seat, but she gave me nothing. We drove for what felt like forever until we pulled into a driveway with a big house fenced yard, and a kennel, there they were German Shepherds. My stomach did a backflip. We got out, and a woman came to greet us. She smiled and chatted with my mom for a bit, then glanced down at me and said, “I think someone's a bit excited.” I tried to play it cool, but my hands were shaking. Then they brought her out. She was 8 weeks old, with huge ears and big floppy paws she hadn’t quite grown into yet. Her coat was jet black, and her eyes deep, serious, and intelligent locked onto mine like she already knew me. She walked right up, sniffed my hand, licked my face and sat beside me as if to say,
Well? What took you guys so long? That was the moment. The begging, waiting, hoping, and dreaming had all led to her. I knew, in that instant, that this wasn’t the end of something, but it was just the beginning. Kaiya was a beautiful black West German working-line German Shepherd. She was everything I had ever dreamed of loyal, smart, driven, and absolutely stunning. Of course, in the ironic way life sometimes plays
out, she ended up bonding more with my mom than with me, but that’s just how dogs are sometimes they choose you, not the other way around. Regardless, she was my first German Shepherd. The dog I had spent years dreaming about and begging for. The one I had practically willed into existence.