Dog Trainer Injury Recovery and Wellness: Thank You, Right Foot – A Lesson in Stillness

At Kinder K9 Mind and Motion, I spend my days helping dogs and their humans move better together — physically, emotionally, and relationally.

But this past month, I’ve had to confront those same themes, in the form of dog trainer injury recovery and wellness in a very personal way.

What happens when my mobility is suddenly limited?

What does wellness look like when I’m forced to slow down?

I like to think my mental wellbeing is in such a good place these days that — [insert your name for a higher power] — decided I needed a physical test.

About four weeks ago, I injured my foot on the stairs at home. I spent two days in denial before going to the ER.

Three broken bones… torn ligaments… it wasn’t pretty.

In my 20s, I would have spiraled into self-pity, sobbing “Why me?” into a pillow.

In my 30s, I would have ignored the pain and pushed through in a whirlwind.

But at 49, I thanked my right foot for saving the rest of me.I thanked the doctor for telling me I didn’t need surgery. I thank [insert higher power] many times a day for all of my blessings.

Puppy class at Pet Valu in Elmvale. Knee scooter stage left!

This sounds like growth… right?

The moment I got injured, my brain snapped into Mitigation Mode, planning contingencies for everything on my agenda so nothing would be missed.

In the past few weeks, I’ve been more insistent than ever that I can still wash the dishes, teach my puppy classes (on a knee scooter!), and attend events.

I attended a wedding and insisted on utilizing my borrowed knee scooter to the fullest.

I was even in a conga line.

Sounds like I was overcoming an obstacle, right?

That one evening of perseverance set my recovery back by at least a week.

Does that mean I haven’t grown?

Does that mean I still don’t know when to pause?

Did I get it all wrong?

One thing I don’t have in my life are people who tell me words like “can’t” and “shouldn’t.”

I don’t invite those folks in.

But maybe that’s the lesson in this.

I’m starting to think maybe I need some voices to say, “You should sit down,” and “You can’t do that by yourself.”

Maybe I need my own voice to say that.

This month, while the world seems to tumble and stumble, I think I’m finding a new kind of balance.

When friends and family are over, I’m not only accepting their offered assistance to carry the coffee pot out to the patio….I’m asking them to do it for me.

Yesterday, I sat on my porch and in the stillness listened to the rush of air under the wings of a sandhill crane as it flew by.

I’m hearing Lucy, Churro, and Mr. Darcy with a quiet mind that now seems to understand which of their sounds and signals are asking me for a water bowl top-up versus the ones that mean they want a nap.

Their dog voices are saying “duh!”

And I’m realizing that stillness isn’t just a gift to myself — it’s a gift to the dogs I serve through Kinder K9 Mind and Motion.

This pause has reminded me that my work isn’t about doing more — it’s about being more.

More present.

More attuned.

More available to the subtle language of dogs and their humans.

Whether I’m teaching puppy classes on a knee scooter or developing wellness programs from my porch, I’m learning that presence — not productivity — is what makes me most useful to the dogs and people I support.

Thank you, right foot…for teaching me to sit down before I fall down.