The Turning Point.

My Life Changed Dramatically One Tuesday In July. Here’s what happened.

My life looked good on paper. 17 years in the NHS. A successful career. A renovated house. Cars. Cats. Holidays booked. Plans made.

It was Stable. Sensible. Conventional.

But something was off.

Not dramatically unhappy. Not in crisis. Just aware of ‘ is this it? ‘ Trapped somehow.

It was a pretty normal Tuesday, work had been busy as always but that was over for the day. We were cooking my favourite dinner together, when I asked a question I’d asked many times before.

‘Do you still love me? ‘

‘I don’t know’.

That was it. No shouting. No drama. Just four words that split my world apart.

Two weeks later we were meant to be kayaking in Turkey. Instead of cancelling I went alone.

In Turkey I cried. A lot. I also kayaked, snorkelled, swam, danced, ate beautiful food, basked in the sunshine, and slept in a tent on the beach or sometimes on the bow of a Turkish gulet.

I was heartbroken. And strangely liberated.

Somewhere between paddling around the Turquoise Coast, and lying under canvas listening to the sea, I changed.

I realised I could survive my life falling apart. And if I could survive it, I could rebuild it.

When I came home, he put our house on the market. I bought a small cottage in the countryside and moved in with an airbed and a bottle of Bollinger. It was a bit worn around the edges. But it was mine.

The cottage became the foundation for a different kind of life. One that allowed my true self to emerge.

I travelled more, and met extraordinary people. I learned how capable I was on my own. Eventually I met Mark and his two kids and we built a blended family. Then we got a Golden Retriever puppy called Lucy.

I’d never had a dog of my own before. Never trained one. Knew nothing of that world.

So off we went to dog training school.

Around the same time, I made another decision that shocked a lot of people. I quit my 17 year career in the NHS. With no safety net. No lump sum. Just a mortgage to pay and lashings of self-belief. I retrained as an executive coach and started my own coaching and training consultancy. The business grew quickly.

And then came Harry, my first competitive obedience dog. Through him something ignited. A passion. A calling. And a whole new world opened up and a growing community of competitive obedience people who care deeply about dogs.

We drive muddy vans and cars across the UK to walk round a square. We get up at dawn and drive for 3 hours for a training round. We analyse heelwork over coffee in a chipped mug. We camp under the stars and we believe competitive obedience is an art form. We love precision. We love partnership. We love the discipline of it. We take the sport seriously, but we don’t take ourselves too seriously.

There were highs and lows like in any sport. It was a rollercoaster for me and I was loving the ride.

Then everything stopped.

Harry was diagnosed with a heart condition at eight years old and could no longer compete. Around the same time Jasper’s competition journey began – but momentum was cut short when Covid arrived. Shows were cancelled. Training was cancelled. Progress froze. We never fully regained the momentum.

Then the grief when Harry passed away.

Grief has a strange way of holding sorrow and joy in the same breath.

Berty was born the next day.

Seven weeks later, I brought Berty home. He didn’t replace Harry. No dog could. Harry was my soul dog. But it turns out your soul has space for many dogs.

Then one day, I had a realisation (no blinding light, just a nice coffee ).

“What if I committed to my dog sport dream the way I had committed to building my business”.

Not casually or when I could squeeze it in. But fully.

That commitment changed everything.

Today we compete at Championship level, and I’m working towards making Berty an Obedience Champion.

Mark and I still live in that little cottage. Life isn’t tidy. It never has been. And I don’t believe it’s meant to be. There are challenges as always. There’s chronic pain and hospital appointments to navigate. There are seasons of mud and seasons of momentum.

But I no longer feel trapped.

I built a life that allows me and my dogs to compete at the highest level of the sport I love. To coach leaders and coaches. To travel the UK and stay in nice places.

The story isn’t finished.

It’s still unfolding.

And now I’m sharing it with you through Muddy Boots & Coffee. The wins. The Losses. The Setbacks. The Mud. The joy. And the realities of pursuing a dream with a dog.

Because sometimes a life that looks like it’s falling apart…is simply beginning.

If you’d like to follow along – the wins, the losses and everything in between – subscribe using the button below, and receive updates straight to your inbox.

Join the ride!

Big love, Angela x