Kimberly Artley

Kimberly Artley Pack Fit was born out of necessity. You see, I, too, had a "problem dog". Pack Fit specializes in behavioral prevention and modification (e.g. A mission.

Author | Formerly PackFit Dog Training and Behavior | Industry Mentor | Founder, Dog Mom University | Director, Pet Health & Longevity at new concierge vet startup

Check out my latest release, "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training's Missing Link" Lobo was his name, and- little did I know- he would become one of my greatest teachers and alter the trajectory of my entire course of life. After t

housands of dollars spent, the inability of a number of different "trainers" to help, much stress and anxiety, misunderstanding of him and his behaviors (https://packfit.net/lobos-story/), and a grim ending to our story, I set out to learn everything I could about dog psychology, behavior, communication, and how to create and nurture balance and relationship so no one else had to live this reality again. Lobo still very much lives on through each client I work with and everything I do today. aggression, social anxiety, separation anxiety, fear, nervousness, destructiveness, leash pulling, leash reactivity, nuisance barking, bullying, "selective hearing", containment phobia, etc), and you can learn more about us here:

www.packfit.net

We have 3 books out for purchase, as well as 5 online courses:

My Dog, My Buddha (Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and all other major outlets)

The Zen of Dog Training: Behavioral Impact Series (eBook: https://payhip.com/PackFit)

Puppyhood: What to Expect When Expecting (Canine Edition)

Online Courses (K9 Essentials, What to Feed Your Dog... and Why, Training the Whole Dog, Nosework for the Home Dog, and My Dog, My Buddha- expanded version of the book)

http://packfit.thinkific.com

PackFit is truly more than a business. It's a working message. And a movement.

Quick update as I finalize the logistics for our cross-country trip starting tomorrow.One of the most challenging parts ...
12/02/2025

Quick update as I finalize the logistics for our cross-country trip starting tomorrow.

One of the most challenging parts of planning this journey has been finding safe, entire-home Airbnbs with fully fenced yards — places where Ava, Cowboy, Winnie, and Ronin can decompress, stretch out, and go potty safely after long, stressful days on the road. (Ava and Cowboy both struggle with car anxiety and motion sickness.)

Hotels simply aren’t an option with four dogs who have never lived together as a cohesive unit — and with my hip and physical limitations on top of this, I can’t walk them together the way I once did with my old crew of five.

And now we’ve run into a major hurdle...

Nearly all of our overnight stops — across multiple states — are between $280 and $450 per night… and those are the **cheapest** ones I could find!!! (Many of the listings are between $600 and $2,000 per night — and NOT mansions or luxury homes. I genuinely don’t understand how these prices are considered reasonable… but I digress.)

It’s absolutely unbelievable… and completely unavoidable.

This isn’t isolated to one area, either.

From Arizona to New Mexico to Texas to Mississippi and Alabama, the cost of entire-home rentals that:

- allow pets,

- have fully fenced yards,

- are safe,

- aren’t shared spaces, and

- aren’t in chaotic or unsafe neighborhoods
..is consistently far higher than expected.

Some stretches — like West Texas, where oil industry travel drives prices sky-high — are particularly inflated, but the truth is that prices have been shockingly high in every single state we’ve checked.

I searched every possible town along our route and compared dozens upon dozens of listings. There were simply no safer, more affordable, or workable options that met the dogs’ needs.

I wish this weren’t the case.

I wish this trip and move wasn’t so expensive.

But the dogs’ safety and well-being are a priority — and this is the cost of keeping them contained, regulated, and protected on the road.

This is why your support means more than I can express.

We’re currently 71% of the way to our fundraiser goal — and every bit of support is helping us navigate these unavoidable costs and move this little crew safely across the country.

GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/83407a134

Every donation helps us get these dogs safely from California to South Carolina — one day, one night, one impossible (and heartbreaking) decision at a time.

I’ll be traveling alone with all four dogs, and this is going to be a lot for me to carry.

I’m afraid.

I’m uncertain.

I’m heavily grieving.

I’m feeling all the things.

And this crew is not like my original crew.

To all of you standing with us: thank you.

Thank you for helping me see this rescue effort through — responsibly, honorably, and with as much heart and strategy as I can summon.

If anyone is in or near Columbia, SC and can help unload the pod once it arrives (scheduled for December 17th), it would mean the world. It is completely full, and my physical limitations will make that part especially difficult.

Please, please contribute if you can. This is all coming out of pocket (no credit cards), and I am doing everything I can to move these dogs to safety and finish what we all started when Ava and her babies first came to us.

With Love,

Kimberly & Crew (Ava • Cowboy • Winnie • Ronin)

(Picture of the pod that was just picked up :(, Ava offering her support as I type this, and an old picture Steve just sent of me, Cowboy, Rocco, and Willard from months ago- at the end of another very long day).

The moving pod gets picked up tomorrow, and — on December 3rd — we officially begin our cross-country journey.Steve and ...
12/01/2025

The moving pod gets picked up tomorrow, and — on December 3rd — we officially begin our cross-country journey.

Steve and I are savoring every moment we have left together — every quiet morning, every familiar rhythm, every silly, ordinary thing that suddenly feels sacred.

This is absolutely crushing.

The house looks so bare now.

Every empty corner feels like another goodbye.

All day, every day, I’ve been second-guessing myself… not because I don’t know what needs to be done, but because the amount of fear and responsibility I’m carrying is overwhelming.

Will I be able to make ends meet once I land?

Will the dogs be okay on the road?

Will we find safe, fenced places along the way?

How will they do sharing space when none of them have ever lived as a cohesive unit before?

What if I can’t find help unloading the pod or reassembling the essentials once we get there?

And then there’s the fencing situation at our rental home.
There’s a 3-foot wall along part of the backyard fenceline that was supposed to be raised for safety. But the homeowners aren’t going to be able to get around to it. So this is — yet another thing — falling entirely on me the moment I arrive.

If you’ve followed me or worked with me, you know how fiercely I believe in risk prevention.

Dog ownership isn’t just a personal responsibility — it’s a public and social one.

This means I won’t be able to allow the dogs in the backyard unattended, or even untethered, until I can afford to have that wall modified.

And since this is not yet a cohesive pack, having a fully secured yard is not just a perk — it’s a necessity.

The additional stress, additional logistics, and additional cost layered onto an already overwhelming transition feels like a tipping point.

And the truth is… I am scared.

I am beyond exhausted.

I look like I’ve aged another 20 years in this last year alone.

And I am trying so very hard to keep my nervous system steady so the dogs can feel safe through all of this.

If you’re able to help — truly, anything helps — your support will go directly toward:

• Safe, fenced Airbnbs along our route

• Gas, moving, and travel costs

• Dog food and care supplies

• Cowboy’s overdue neuter (which his adopter conveniently neglected to do)

• Safety modifications to the backyard fencing in SC

• Help unloading the moving pod and reassembling essentials — and if I can’t find anyone willing or able to help, I’ll have to hire help (which is physically difficult for me to do alone, especially while managing three dysregulated dogs in a brand new environment)

• Basic survival while I get re-established and back on my feet

I didn’t start this rescue effort because it was easy.

I started it because these dogs had no one else.

And I am seeing this all the way through — even when it breaks my heart, even when it costs everything, even when it feels impossibly heavy.

Thank you for holding us through this.

Thank you for helping me keep Ava, Cowboy, and Winnie safe.

Thank you for being part of this impossible, necessary journey.

GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/83407a134

(1st picture is of the "almost-completely-filled" moving pod. Stuffing last remaining bits in there today. The Huskies have been particularly clingy as of late... it's breaking my heart. I will miss them so, so very much. Two of the most non-Husky Huskies I've ever known... they're medicine.)

It’s Sunday… and I’m just 48–72 hours away from leaving Steve, our home, and our life here.Franklin, the Huskies, Steve,...
11/30/2025

It’s Sunday… and I’m just 48–72 hours away from leaving Steve, our home, and our life here.

Franklin, the Huskies, Steve, his family…

Everything I’ve known, loved, and built as my new familiar over the last few years.

We started breaking everything down and loading the moving pod yesterday, and I’m trying to savor every last second in this house and with him.

The house looks so bare right now.

And this… this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
And I know it’s one of the hardest things Steve has ever done, too.

On December 2nd (possibly the 3rd), I’ll be driving across the country with a four-dog crew that has never lived together as a cohesive pack.

They’ve each lived separate lives up to this point.

Cowboy struggles with severe motion anxiety and car sickness.

Ava has a history of motion sickness as well.

Winnie has finally gotten over hers and travels well, and Ronin — who’s already done a few cross-country road trips — is an expert traveler… though even he is stressed and sensing all the change.

I’ve decided not to tow a trailer — for safety, logistics, the emotional load we’re already carrying, and because it would add another $1,100.

The GoFundMe is only 51% funded, and the total cost of this move — just to get these dogs to safety and allow me to see this rescue effort all the way through — will easily reach $10,000+.

Gas.

The moving pod.

Food.

AirBnBs with fenced yards so we can avoid chaotic hotel environments, prevent potential issues, and give the dogs safe decompression, movement, nervous system resets, and fresh air in each unfamiliar stop.

No credit cards.

All out of pocket.

I’m not in a position to make a move like this… but I’m trying.

Really trying.

For them.

It’s… a lot.

I also still need to get Cowboy neutered once we reach South Carolina — something his adopter never did — and that expense will also need to come out of this. Another piece of the load.

I haven’t been able to find anyone I know willing to join us for even brief parts of the trip (I understand it's a big ask), or help me unload the moving pod in South Carolina and reassemble a few pieces of furniture once it gets there.

Carrying all of this — physically, emotionally, financially — is unbelievably heavy.

And it feels very, very lonely.

I didn’t start this rescue effort because I could.

I started it because no one else would.

And I’m still carrying it forward because their lives are literally depending on it.

Living in alignment with your values can be f***ing exhausting.

And hard.

Very, very hard.

And right now, my integrity and sense of responsibility are pushing me to do things that feel completely impossible.

Things I absolutely do not want to do.

Things that are breaking my heart… but that feel like the good thing to do.

If you’re willing and able to donate even $5, every little bit helps.

If every follower we’ve connected with over the years did that, we’d be fully supported.

GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/83407a134

Also, 100% of every book, and masterclass and course purchase (through Dog Mom University) is going toward this move and continued effort. https://kimberlyartley.com

(Please note: I won’t be sending signed or personalized books until we’re settled and unpacked in SC.)

Every bit matters more than I can express, and I’m eternally grateful for those who have supported Ava and her babies since the beginning.

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve shared anything about the new book — and with everything unfolding in my world right no...
11/29/2025

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve shared anything about the new book — and with everything unfolding in my world right now, I wanted to pause and bring the focus back to the foundation of my work.

"The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link" isn’t just a title.

It’s the heartbeat behind every rescue effort, every decision, every sacrifice, every mile I’m about to drive across the country.

It’s the truth I’ve built my entire career — and life — on.

The human end of the leash is one of the most influential and impactful — yet wildly under-spoken to — ingredients in canine behavior. It’s a deal breaker.

Most trainers get into dog training to work with dogs, not people.

But the truth is: we can’t reach the dog if we can’t reach — and teach — the human responsible for raising the dog.

And that’s the hardest part.

The human end of the leash is often the biggest obstacle, the greatest block, and yet the most essential key to helping a dog move beyond change and into true behavioral transformation.

This work asks us to look deeper than surface-level training —
to move beyond mechanics and methods, and into the why beneath it all.

Because understanding the dog in front of us always begins with understanding ourselves — our patterns, wounds, nervous systems, emotional (in)congruence, energy, leadership (or lack thereof), what we’re doing and not doing, habits, what we consistently rehearse, where our focus is, the type of energy we bring into each space, how we respond, how we react — across the mental, emotional, physical, and energetic layers that shape behavior.

And I’ll be honest:

I’m living every ounce of this in real time right now — ulcers, heartache, grief, and all.

Everything I write about in this book… I’m walking through it, breathing through it, and holding it moment by moment.

If you’ve been following this journey, and you want to support in a way that also pours back into your relationship with your dog, this book is where it all begins (100% of all proceeds go directly to this effort).

"The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link"

https://a.co/d/dhhvAzl

This book took me four years to write — and holds twenty years of total immersion in the dog world woven into every page.

If you’ve read it, your reviews on Amazon help more than you know.

If you haven’t yet — consider this your gentle nudge.

This book is the piece of my work that ties everything together.

-----

GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/83407a134

Amazon: https://a.co/d/dhhvAzl

Many won’t understand how or why I can uproot my entire life — leave the love of my life, the safety, the stability — an...
11/29/2025

Many won’t understand how or why I can uproot my entire life — leave the love of my life, the safety, the stability — and move across the country… just to save these dogs.

The truth is… I can’t fully explain it either.

What I can say is this:

At the heart and foundation of who I am as a human being is the human–animal bond — especially the bond we share with our dogs.

This is who I’ve always been.

Even as a little girl, I found my way to animals instinctively — drawn to them, connected to them, understanding them in ways I couldn’t yet put into words.

This is what’s sacred to me.

It’s been the compass for my entire life.

It’s what everything I’ve built is centered around.

I didn’t start this rescue effort with Ava and her babies because I could.

I started it because no one else would — and their lives were on the line.

I didn’t bring these dogs to safety just to wipe my hands clean when things got hard.

I won’t let Animal Control take them.
I’m not built that way.

And I didn’t start this rescue effort — or fundraise for it — only to hand them over to a shelter and gamble with their lives.

That’s not rescue.
That’s not responsibility.
That’s not integrity.

I have a deep sense of obligation, responsibility, and duty to any dog I bring into my care.

It’s something rooted in me — something I can’t deny or turn off.

It guides me in the same way my love for Steve does…
but this is one of those moments where my calling requires me to choose the harder path — one he can’t share with me right now.

People will question it.
People will judge it.
People will assume things.

And that’s okay.

My guiding mantra has always been this:
“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

Advocating. Teaching. Protecting.
Questioning. Deepening awareness and understanding. Calling out. Facing. Healing. Growing. Showing up (especially where others won’t). Following through.

This isn’t just what I do.
It’s who I am.

And to ignore this — to turn away from it — would break something in me I could never repair.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

So… I choose the hard thing.
The heartbreaking thing.
The thing that’s asking everything of me.
And the very thing that’s stretching me beyond the edge of myself.

And I’ll be honest — I’m second-guessing myself every. single. day.

Today I took the dogs to our favorite Sniffspot.

On the way there, songs came on my playlist — songs Steve sent to me when we were dating — and I just broke down.

This is unconscionably hard.

Choosing between Steve and my profound love for him… and the immense sense of responsibility, integrity, conviction, and devotion I feel toward these dogs.

The lives and fates of these three dogs rest in my hands.

There’s no turning back now.

It’s heartbreaking that we live in a time where shelters are operating beyond max capacity — where dogs’ lives are ending early every single day.

And yet… when someone steps up, takes action, and actually tries to offer relief — they’re the ones who suffer the consequences.

There is something incredibly wrong with this picture.

Beyond the grief, I’m angry.

I’m angry at the system.

Angry at the lack of responsibility, accountability, and basic level of compassion in “human kind.”

Angry that backyard breeding, irresponsible “ownership,” carelessness, and neglect — and the total lack of consequences for any of it — keep creating the very crisis those of us who don’t turn the other way pay the price to clean up.

People getting dogs and never stepping up to learn who they are or what they need.

People wiping their hands clean the moment the dog doesn’t meet their expectations — expectations the dog was never set up or properly equipped to meet in the first place.

Many of us who actually make the effort to address the problem — who don’t look the other way because it’s more convenient — are the ones left carrying the consequences of the very issues others create.

Responsible rescue takes a village.

Saving lives takes a village.

Because it requires us to stretch and carry in more ways than we ever can alone.

We’re now 51% of the way there with our GoFundMe, and I’m so thankful.

But seeing this rescue effort all the way through is taking so much, and I could still really use the support.

This is 100% to get these dogs to safety and give them their fighting chance at living their lives, finding their humans, and living well.

If you can share their story and their plight, thank you.

I’m gutted. And time is speeding by.

GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/83407a134

This holiday season feels different — heavier in some ways, more awake in others.And Thanksgiving feels like the perfect...
11/27/2025

This holiday season feels different — heavier in some ways, more awake in others.

And Thanksgiving feels like the perfect moment to pause and reflect… to recalibrate… and to take honest, heartfelt inventory of everything we still have, even in seasons of loss, change, or transition.

We spend so much of our lives chasing what’s next
that we forget to honor what’s now.

We move through our days assuming the people we love will always be there.

Assuming our health will hold.

Assuming life will keep its familiar shape.

Assuming “normal” is guaranteed.

Until something — or everything — changes.

And in seasons like this one — when life tilts and shifts under your feet — sometimes the universe sends a sign to steady you.

If you've followed me for a while, you know I'm a praying gal.
My faith and relationship with God is strong, and has guided and carried me through the storms that have shaped my life — especially over the last five years.

I ask for signs, and I receive them. Always. (“Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe” by Laura Lynne Jackson is a book I recommend often. Her new book, Guided, is one I’m reading and loving right now.)

Yesterday, I was sitting in the backyard with Cowboy, Winnie, and Steve — letting myself soak in a quiet moment before everything changes — when Cowboy and Winnie suddenly huffed and ran toward the far corner of the yard.

And there, perched on the back wall, was a white egret.

A white egret.

Something I haven’t seen since I left Virginia.

Completely unexpected.

Completely random.

Completely perfect.

I immediately looked up the symbolism, because it felt like more than coincidence.

It was the sign I'd asked for.

You see, every day I spend in prayer.

I pray on our pack walks.

I pray in moments of heaviness and overwhelm.

I pray to give thanks when something good happens.

And I pray each night before I go to sleep.

On my prayer yesterday morning, I was crying — sobbing — begging for help, for support, for guidance… begging for a sign that I was being heard.

And, later that day, the egret arrived.

White egrets symbolize purity, grace, resilience, divine guidance, balance, harmony, good fortune, and new beginnings.

They survive.

They adapt.

They thrive.

They stand still in the water with unwavering calm and purpose.

If ever there was a sign for this particular chapter…I’ll take it.

That moment reminded me — in a way I absolutely needed — to appreciate what I do have, even as I prepare to leave so much behind.

To honor the love.

The memories.

The stability.

The routines.

The people.

The dogs.

And this incredible community that has carried us through the darkest parts of this rescue.

I'm also deeply and profoundly grateful for Steve and his family.

The way they’ve shown up for me, supported me, and encouraged me as I fought my way back to myself after the trauma of these last years.

Supported and cheered me on through the writing of my books…

All of it has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.

In the last two years alone, I published three books:

• "Pieces in Heaven" — my children’s book on pet loss and grief (after the passing of each of my treasured pack members, one by one, over a 23 month timeframe; the last being my "Baby Giant", my beloved Levi)

• "Little Todd Finds His Forever Home" — the story of my sweet Todd (with a character in there inspired by Steve :))

and

• "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link" — the book that took four years to write and every ounce of honesty I had in me

Steve and his family welcomed me in and embraced me for all of it — cheering, encouraging, celebrating, believing.

Their kindness…

Their consistency…

Their love...

Their support…

Has healed me in ways I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to put into words.

I grew up as the outsider.

The “animal girl” no one really got or understood.

My family is estranged.

Support, encouragement, holding space, unconditional care —
those were not things I grew up with.

“Having each other’s back” was not something I was raised with.

But then I met Steve and his family.

And for the first time in my life, I experienced what it felt like to be embraced fully — with love, respect, compassion, and genuine care.

They have healed places in me I didn’t even know were still hurting.

So today — despite the grief, despite the upcoming goodbye, despite the chaos of this rescue — I want to honor that.

To honor them.

To honor every bit of love I’ve been given.

Because the truth is, we don’t fully see what we have until Life asks us to loosen our grip.

But today, I’m choosing to see it.

To name it.

To honor and savor it while I still can.

And I want to say thank you — to this community, to these dogs, to Steve, to his family, and to every single person who has held space for us.

If this post offers you anything today, let it be this:

Don’t wait for Loss to wake you up.

Don’t wait for Distance to force clarity.

Don’t wait for Chaos to appreciate your peace.

And don’t wait until you’re Leaving Something
to finally see it.

Look around — truly look.

What have you stopped noticing?

Who have you stopped appreciating?

What blessings have quietly slipped into the background of your life?

Bring them forward.

Name them.

Honor them.

Let them soften you.

Gratitude isn’t just a practice.

It’s a way of living awake.

And yesterday, a white egret landed on my wall to remind me of that.

Thank you — all of you — for walking this impossible road with me.

Thank you for your compassion, your support, and your presence.

You've saved lives.

You've made a huge difference.

You've changed mine.

And I will never stop being grateful for each and every one of you.

The moving container arrived today.Nearly $5,592 — and seeing it sitting here feels surreal.Every morning I dread… absol...
11/26/2025

The moving container arrived today.

Nearly $5,592 — and seeing it sitting here feels surreal.
Every morning I dread… absolutely dread… waking up, because it means I’m one day closer to leaving Steve, Franklin, his family, the Huskies… our home, our life.

The U-Haul trailer for our immediates and essentials is $1,114.48.
Estimated gas: $650.

Airbnbs/hotels for 8 days: around $2,400 (unbelievable — most don’t rent for one night, and the ones that do charge a lot).

I thought about piecing the trip together with Sniffspots and motels — one Sniffspot before leaving each location, another before checking in at the next one after driving all day — but it will be far easier and far safer to just find Airbnbs with fenced yards.

Moving blankets, boxes, packing materials… all additional costs on top of that.

None of this includes their food or anything else the dogs will need on the road.

I’m navigating a lot right now.

I’m navigating extreme grief, loss, and an unbelievable amount of stress.

All of this… just to save the lives of three precious dogs who didn’t ask for any of it — who were simply born into a broken, uncommitted world where far more dependents are brought into existence than there are reliable, responsible, truly dependable caretakers to love, nurture, and protect them.

I haven’t been able to find anyone who can leave their lives for a week and a half to help. It’s a huge ask, I know.

The pressure and overwhelm from all of this is immense.
Once we land, we’ll all be rebuilding.

We’ll all be regrounding and restabilizing — and once I’m in a better place, I can finally give these dogs the focused behavioral support they need so they can find their special people.

We’ll need a treadmill to support their behavioral needs and energy regulation — not only because of my physical limitations, but because it will play a big role in their behavioral support and fulfillment in ways I physically won’t be able to replicate.

This rescue effort won’t be over until each of them is safely and responsibly placed.

At least this way, there won’t be pressure to rush the process.
I so wish things were different.

I wish I could’ve found these dogs their people — their best lives — without it coming to this.

I know I don’t have to do any of this.

But the thought of any of them going through the stress and trauma of an animal shelter, and likely having their lives end there, is unbearable.

And it’s unbearable knowing this happens to other dogs every single day.

When we took Ava and her babies in last December, we never imagined it would lead to this. I truly believed finding good, loving, responsible homes would be easy — especially with everything we poured into them: biologically appropriate food, Dr. Dodds’ vaccine protocol, waiting to alter until fully developed, early socialization, the obstacle course, crate and potty training… everything.

I was wrong.

What I am deeply grateful for is this community — the folks who made getting to this point possible. Many of you have followed my books, my work under PackFit, Dog Mom University, and this entire rescue journey for years.

We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.

Our GoFundMe is 47% of the way there — and we desperately need help.

This is all coming out of pocket.

100% of any profits from book sales, Dog Mom University masterclasses and courses, etc., is going directly toward this rescue effort and this move.

The newest book, "The Human End of the Leash: Dog Training’s Missing Link", can be found under Books and Audio at:
www.kimberlyartley.com

Please, please share.

Please donate if you’re able — even $5 helps more than you know.

And if you’re someone I know who is willing and able to join us on a cross-country trip, we could truly use the support and help.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for standing with us.

Thank you for helping me see this rescue effort all the way through.

-----

GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/83407a134

Amazon Wish List: We still have some food, gullet sticks, and tracheas on there for chews in their crates during the trip. We leave Dec. 2nd.

https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/3FO6IN56H45BD?ref_=wl_share

(picture of Cowboy and Winnie stretching their legs and getting re-associated)

One week left here-- and my heart is breaking.Carrying all of this alone has become too heavy.My days are spent in tears...
11/25/2025

One week left here-- and my heart is breaking.

Carrying all of this alone has become too heavy.

My days are spent in tears.

My health is not good.

I feel like I’ve aged 30 years in the last year alone.

The emotional weight of this decision is suffocating.

This is the reality.

We leave December 2nd — just seven days from now.

Not because I want to.

Not because I’m ready.

But because if I don’t go, these dogs will not be safe.

They will be absorbed into a broken system, and they will likely become another California death statistic.

And the thought of that is unbearable.

The thought of leaving Steve ...

Our home...

His family…

The Huskies…

Franklin…

It breaks me in a way I can’t fully express.

This is not a move I want to make.

It’s not a life I want to walk away from.

But there is no alternative.

Ava, Ronin, Cowboy, and Winnie have nowhere else to go.

No fosters.

No adopters.

No humane backup plan.

No margin for error.

I didn’t start this rescue effort to quit.

And you didn’t donate to this effort to see me quit.

I am doing my best — truly — to see this all the way through.

But its toll is heavy.

Too heavy.

I feel hopeless.

Defeated.

And most days now, I feel like giving up.

Today is one of those days.

I don’t know how I’m going to do this.

And on top of everything, my nervous system is wrecked right now.

I know each of these dogs depends on my nervous system to feel safe — to be able to regulate, to settle, to trust, to move through this with me.

They need me steady.

They need me grounded.

They need me able to respond in ways that help them feel safe.

And right now… I feel wrecked.

Quitting is not something I want to do.

And it is not something I could ever live with myself doing.

But I don't know what else to do.

Airbnbs for one single night are **expensive.**

And they're in neighborhoods I'm not familiar with.

Hotels aren’t a good call for these dogs and their needs.

Our GoFundMe is still only 40% funded, and time is running out fast.

I have new household accounts already established in South Carolina.

For the most part, everything is ready for us.

Forward is the only direction, even though it feels like climbing a mountain completely blindfolded, a 2 ton boulder on my back, and with four precious lives tied to me.

Before I continue, I need to say this:

Please. No negative comments.

This is already heavy enough.

I’m not sharing any of this for attention.

Writing is how I process.

It's how I teach.

I’m not sharing to make anyone feel sorry for me.

I’m sharing for transparency.

I'm sharing for insight.

I’m sharing to raise awareness about the real cost, weight, and reality of rescue — this human-created crisis dogs are suffering through every day.

I share because monstrous efforts like this require community — a village of people who believe in and are working toward the same goal.

I also share because I want these dogs to reach the other side of this — and I want their story to inspire.

I know people care.

I know many are rooting for us from afar. And I’m deeply, deeply grateful.

But the day-to-day reality is that I feel painfully alone in the planning, the driving, the financial strain, the fear, and the heartbreak of leaving behind the life and people I love.

In these final seven days —community is needed now more than ever.

If you’re able to donate, share, send encouragement, or support in any way, it genuinely helps.

It gives me strength I don’t have.

It helps me keep going when everything in me feels overwhelmed, defeated, and like giving up.

It helps me continue a mission I cannot abandon.

Thank you for seeing us.

Thank you for caring.

And thank you for helping me carry something far too heavy for one person.

GoFundMe:
https://gofund.me/83407a134

Amazon Wish List (items need to arrive before we leave on Dec 2nd):
https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/3FO6IN56H45BD?ref_=wl_share

With Love,

Kimberly — Ava, Ronin, Cowboy & Winnie

Address

Murrieta, CA
92562

Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Kimberly Artley posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Business

Send a message to Kimberly Artley:

Shortcuts

Share

Category