With Daisy, I took it slow. Really slow. I started by tossing her a treat from a distance. Then another. Eventually, I was able to do what I call “Pac-Man-ing”—a technique where I lay a trail of treats in a line, and like Pac-Man, the dog follows along, gobbling them up one by one. As Daisy followed the line of treats, I could see her little by little start to relax.

It’s amazing how something as simple as a treat can begin to chip away at a dog’s fear. But it wasn’t just the treats. It was the time, the patience, and the calmness I brought into that kennel. I talk to dogs constantly when I’m working with them. It’s not about what I say—it’s about giving them something familiar, a voice to focus on in a stressful environment filled with barking dogs and loud noises.

Dobermans get a bad rap sometimes. People think they’re just tough guard dogs, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. When I sat with Daisy Mae, I wasn’t dealing with some aggressive beast—I was sitting with a puppy. Sure, she was scared, and sure, she growled when I first came in, but after some patience and trust-building, the real Daisy Mae started to show.

Her big paws told me she still had some growing to do, and her floppy ears started to perk up every time I said something to her. It’s in these moments you realize that dogs like Daisy Mae are just waiting for someone to see past the surface. They’re waiting for someone to give them a chance to trust again.

When my wife, Kelly, pulled up Daisy Mae’s file, we learned her story. Daisy Mae was an owner surrender. Her family was going through a separation, and in the chaos, Daisy ended up at the shelter. She had come from a home where she was loved, which explained why she was so confused and scared now.

It’s heartbreaking, really. Imagine being a dog, living with a family, and then suddenly finding yourself alone in a shelter. The people you trusted are gone, and you’re left to figure things out in a loud, unfamiliar place. Daisy was doing her best to be brave, but it was clear she didn’t understand why she was there.

I had the chance to speak with Officer Blackmore, the animal control officer who brought Daisy Mae to the shelter. She shared, “My original call for her was a running at large, aggressive Doberman. When I arrived, her owner was waiting and explained that Daisy was skittish of strangers but had been barking and growling at a neighbor.” Despite Daisy’s initial protective behavior, Officer Blackmore added, “By the end of the day, after giving her some treats and time, I was able to safely remove her harness without any issues. She just needed a bit of patience.” Her insight reinforced what I had been seeing all along—Daisy wasn’t aggressive, just scared and unsure of her new surroundings.

One of the most profound moments came when I finally scooped Daisy Mae into my lap. This was the result of singing “You Are My Sunshine.” I didn’t plan it—it just felt right in the moment. As I sang, something incredible happened: Daisy Mae, who had been so tense and uncertain, started to relax. Slowly but surely, she inched her way closer to me, and before I knew it, this once-nervous Doberman was sitting in my lap. It was a huge breakthrough, and honestly, a little emotional for me.

There’s something magical about the moment a dog decides to trust you enough to crawl into your lap. It’s not about force or dominance; it’s about patience and empathy. For Daisy Mae, that scoop was a breakthrough. She went from a growling, scared puppy to a soft, snuggly dog who just needed to feel safe.

I think that’s what so many people miss about working with dogs like Daisy Mae—it’s not about being an expert, it’s about being there. Anyone can do what I do. You don’t need years of experience or special training. You just need time, patience, and a willingness to sit with a dog through their fear.

People ask me all the time, “Rocky, how do you do it? How do you sit with these dogs, especially the scared or aggressive ones?” The truth is, it’s not about me being special. I’m not the hero of these stories.  You are the hero for watching the videos, for going out and taking action, for sharing the videos. That’s what makes a difference. That’s what will help a dog like this. You can do this too. The reason I make these videos, the reason I sit with dogs like Daisy Mae, is to show you that you can be part of the solution. You don’t need to be a professional dog trainer to make a difference.

Dogs like Daisy Mae don’t need perfection—they need love, patience, and someone willing to take the time to understand them. You don’t have to have all the answers. You just have to show up. And if you’re reading this, you’re already halfway there.

As I sat with Daisy Mae, watching her slowly relax and eventually fall asleep in my lap, I couldn’t help but feel hopeful for her future. She’s young, she’s smart, and she’s ready to learn. Dobermans are amazing dogs, but they need the right person—someone who understands their breed, who will guide them with love and structure.

Daisy Mae is waiting for that person. Maybe it’s you, or maybe it’s someone you know. But I promise you this: whoever steps up to adopt Daisy Mae is going to get one incredible dog. She’s got so much potential, and she’s just waiting for the right family to bring it out of her.

And remember, you don’t need to be perfect to help a dog like Daisy Mae. You just need to be there.

So if you’re ever in a position to help, whether it’s by adopting, fostering, or just spreading the word, know that you have the power to change a dog’s life. Daisy Mae, like so many others, is counting on it.