How One Photo Changed Everything
Three years ago, I sat down at my desk and opened up Facebook. That morning—September 29th—I saw a picture that would change my life forever.
The moment I saw her, I just knew. No overthinking, no hesitation. I saw that little German Shepherd puppy’s face and knew she was meant to be mine. I picked up the phone to call Ray… and heard it ringing in the other room. He’d left his phone at home—the one and only time that’s ever happened. I was frantic. We needed to get to the rescue ASAP.
Ray, ever the practical one, wasn’t exactly swept away by my enthusiasm. We had four cats at the time (yes, four). What about them? But I believed, as I often do, that it would all work out. Eventually, he agreed to go—just to look.
When we got to PAWS Atlanta, it was a whirlwind. Two of the puppies had already been adopted, and the third was out back. A volunteer handed us one of the adopted pups to walk while we waited. Within a minute, we both knew it wasn’t the right fit. My heart dropped.
Then we saw her—the one from the photo. She was sitting with an older woman on a bench near the trail. Her name was “Sporty.” We swapped dogs, and Ray began walking her. I watched from behind, and instantly knew: this was it. She was the one.
If you’ve ever adopted a dog, you know that spark. It’s not logical—it’s emotional, almost spiritual. It’s like life’s scattered dots suddenly connect. You feel it in your gut. That moment with Sporty (soon to be Luna) was pure magic.
Ray, still trying to be rational, brought up some valid points: four cats, zero dog supplies at home, and oh—did I mention we were going on a two-week vacation in a month? Minor details, if you ask me. I pushed. He caved. “Let’s see what happens,” he said.
Sporty became Luna, and Luna became everything.
She’s been my best friend, my shadow, my rock. She’s taught me patience, presence, and how to appreciate the simple moments—like a walk in the rain. She became part of our family, heart and soul.
Luna showed us what it means to advocate for dogs and give them the second chance they deserve. That core belief is what shaped Koru K9’s balanced training approach. She was the start of something bigger than we could have imagined.
Luna had a gift for sensing our cat Lucy’s seizures. She would race across the room to comfort her, licking Lucy’s head until the episode passed. After we lost Lucy, Luna still searched under the blankets where Lucy used to hide. That kind of bond—the empathy—it’s incredible.
And then came Nero. When we visited the breeder to pick out a new puppy, Luna sat quietly under a tree and watched. She just knew. When we brought Nero home, she immediately took him under her wing. That first night—normally a nightmare with a new puppy—he curled up beside her and slept soundly. Luna didn’t sleep a wink.
She became a mother that night, and we became something more than just a dog-loving couple. We became trainers, behaviorists, and advocates—because of Luna.
Without her, there would be no Koru K9. No in-home training programs helping thousands of dogs build trust, obedience, and confidence. No board and train success stories. Luna was—and is—the soul of what we do.
So today, on the three-year anniversary of the day she changed our lives, I just want to say thank you.
Happy Gotcha Day, my sweet Luna. My girl. My best friend. I love you more than words can ever express.
(Luna is the goofy little pup on the far left, smiling in her play stance.)
