Hi, I'm Maya.
I live in Austin, Texas with my husband Ethan, our chaos agent Ziggy, and our dignified elder Maple.
I didn't set out to be a dog behavior consultant. I was a product manager at a tech company — the kind of person who believed that if you had enough data and a good enough framework, you could solve any problem. Then I adopted a scruffy terrier mix named Ziggy, and he dismantled that belief in about 48 hours.
The dog who changed everything.
Ziggy came home with severe separation anxiety. Not the cute "he whines when I leave" kind — the full-blown panic kind. The kind where he'd drool, pace, and bark for hours. The kind where my neighbors started sending "friendly" texts.
I did what any desperate dog parent does: I Googled. I read forums. I hired trainers. I tried calming treats, calming collars, calming diffusers. Most of it didn't work. Some of it made things worse.
So I did what any product manager would do — I treated it like a product problem. I read the research. I tested protocols. I logged results. I failed, adjusted, and failed again. And slowly, over months, Ziggy got better. Not overnight. Not in three days. But eventually.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I cared more about this than I ever cared about product roadmaps. I got my IAABC certification — the real one — and started working with dogs and their people full-time.
Now I run a small behavior consulting practice here in Austin, and this blog is where I share what I learned between Ziggy's first panic attack and today.
Maple, the quiet soul.
Then there's Maple. She's a 10-year-old flat-coated retriever mix with a gray muzzle and zero tolerance for nonsense. She belonged to Ethan long before I came along — she was part of the package when I married him, and honestly, she might have been the best part.
Maple is everything Ziggy isn't: calm, patient, and utterly unbothered by the world. She's spent the last decade perfecting the art of napping in sunbeams and giving me the side-eye when I overthink things. She's also the reason I started paying attention to senior dogs — their needs, their quiet wisdom, the way they teach you to slow down whether you want to or not.
Between the two of them, I've got one dog who teaches me about panic and recovery, and one who teaches me about grace and letting go. I need both.
A few things you should know about me.
I drink a lot of coffee — the pour-over kind, weighed and timed like a lab experiment. I bake sourdough and pastries on weekends, mostly because I like the process, and partly because Ziggy is an excellent floor-cleaner when I drop things. I play piano badly, which turned out to be useful because I used my terrible playing to desensitize Ziggy to thunder — more on that later.
I believe in citing sources, naming researchers, and showing my work. I also believe in telling you about the time I cried in a pet store parking lot while Ziggy dragged me across the asphalt. You get both here.
What you'll find here.
Science-backed, heart-forward advice on dog behavior. No shame. No shortcuts. No shock collars.
Just one person who learned most of it the hard way, and wants to make it a little easier for you.
Respect the dog.
— Maya