Leadership Unleashed
- Matthew
- May 29
- 4 min read
What We Can Learn about Life From my Two Doodles
Summer mornings at my house are loud.
Not from alarms or inbox pings – but from Willow, our Aussie Doodle, declaring war on the morning, she’s 0-100 right away. Meanwhile, Izzy, our Labradoodle, lifts her head just long enough to decide it’s not worth getting off the couch yet.
Together, they are chaos and calm. Structure and spontaneity. And in the middle of it, I’m learning – still – how to live, lead, and love more fully.
This is an ode to them. Not just as pets, but as teachers.
1. Calm Is a Leadership Strategy
Izzy is the wise one.
She’s intuitive, gentle, and observant. She knows when someone in the house needs comfort before they do. She doesn’t demand attention – she earns it quietly. Most nights, she ends up snuggled beside me on the couch, the picture of trust without noise.
From Izzy, I’ve learned that leadership doesn’t have to be loud. That steady presence speaks volumes. That sometimes, just being there – grounded, listening, and calm – is the most powerful kind of support you can offer.
In leadership, we often mistake visibility for impact, or action for effectiveness. We reward presence in the room instead of presence of mind. But real influence isn’t about being the loudest; it’s about knowing when your presence is enough. But Izzy models a quieter strength: knowing when to speak, when to listen, and when to simply remain steady. In a world that can feel chaotic and overstimulated, her stillness is a reminder that clarity comes from calm, not from clamor.
2. Energy Is Not the Enemy
Willow is... a lot.
She leaps before she looks. She barks with enthusiasm, not aggression. She has no respect for personal space and will climb into my wife’s lap with the full weight of her affection, pressing in like she’s still a puppy.
And somehow, it’s perfect.
What Willow brings is energy, unfiltered and undeterred. She reminds me that boldness matters. That enthusiasm is a form of love. That curiosity – even when it’s messy – is worth following.
She doesn’t hold back. She doesn’t overthink. She moves.
From her, I’ve learned that momentum beats perfection. That sometimes, the most powerful thing a team needs isn’t more planning, it’s more belief. More boldness. More joy in the doing. Presence doesn’t always look like poise. Sometimes it looks like jumping in with everything you’ve got.
As leaders, we could all use a little more Willow.
3. Guard What Matters
Willow is not so much a guard dog as she is the town crier. Neighbor's dog? Yup. People walking past on the sidewalk? Absolutely. Delivery trucks? Naturally. She greets everyone with acrobatic leaps and a chorus of barks, not out of fear, but sheer enthusiasm.
Izzy? She knows when it’s a real threat and when it’s just Willow being Willow.
Together, they model discernment and protection: knowing what’s worth reacting to, and when to act at all.
That lesson applies more often than we think. In leadership, we’re constantly surrounded by signals – some urgent, some just noise. Izzy and Willow remind me that courage isn’t just about action. It’s about judgment. They teach me to protect what’s sacred – my time, my values, my people – and to tune out what doesn’t deserve my energy.
Protecting isn’t panicking. It’s prioritizing.
4. Play Is Productive
Izzy plays with grace. She retrieves. She romps. She rests.
Willow plays like it’s a contact sport and a philosophy. She chases shadows, invents new games, and runs full speed just because it feels good.
Watching them, I’m reminded: play isn’t just a break from seriousness. It’s a break into creativity.
So much of what we call “burnout” is really a lack of unstructured joy. As adults, we tend to flatten play into a reward, something we earn after working hard. But dogs don’t see it that way. For them, play is essential. It’s how they explore, connect, and recalibrate.
Whether I’m designing a strategy, coaching a team, or figuring out how to move forward, play is often what unlocks my best thinking.
Dogs don’t apologize for needing joy. Why should we?
5. Be the Leader Only You Can Be
Izzy is unflappable. Soft-spoken. Loyal. Her love is a quiet constant.
Willow is high-octane affection in doodle form. Her love lands on you – literally – with paws and wiggles and full-body declarations.
They are nothing alike. And that’s exactly the point.
Each leads in their own way. Each connects differently. And each reminds me that trying to lead like someone else is a waste of energy.
The best teams – human or canine – don’t need uniformity. They need the truth.
I don’t need Willow to be more like Izzy, or Izzy to "step up" to Willow’s enthusiasm.
They are whole, as they are. And the same is true for people.
In work and life, the best relationships are built not by blending in, but by showing up – fully, unapologetically, and consistently.
The Dog Years, Measured Differently
They say one dog year equals seven human years.
But Izzy and Willow don’t measure time like I do. There’s no five-year plan. No regrets from last Tuesday. No countdown to vacation. At most, they live in 15-minute windows—each one a whole chapter in their world. And what a teacher that makes them. Because they remind me – again and again – that everything that matters happens right now.
To love in the moment. To chill in the moment. To play in the moment.
That presence isn’t a nice-to-have. It’s the whole point.
We spend so much of our lives rushing toward the next thing. But my dogs, in their sevenfold rhythm, keep inviting me back to the one place I can actually lead, live, and be: here.
So I’ll ask you:
What have your animals taught you?
What wisdom lives at your feet, waiting to be noticed?
Drop it below – because sometimes, the best executive coaches don’t wear suits. They leap into your lap and remind you to pay attention.
PS - I'm really sorry about that terrible title, but I just couldn't resist.
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