What My 17-Year-Old Dog Taught Me About Leading in the In-Between

I’ve always believed everyone has something to teach you. Sometimes it’s a mentor, a colleague, a stranger in line at the coffee shop. And sometimes, it’s your seventeen-year-old dog.

Ted, my old and slightly wobbly boy, has been teaching me about leadership his whole life. From the boundless curiosity of his puppy days to the steady wisdom he carries now, he’s lived through every season a leader will face: learning fast, testing boundaries, hitting his stride, slowing with grace, and still showing up every day with loyalty and presence.

This week at the groomer, I got a reminder of just how much he means to people beyond me. She smiled as I handed him over.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but he’s got a note against his name,” she said, “that says ‘he’s legit the best boy in the world’ – with a smiley face at the end.”

She was quite descriptive for something so simple. I wondered if she was just being nice. But then her colleague called across the room:

“My day is always made when Ted’s the first dog of the day. I’m so careful with him because he’s seventeen now. Sometimes he runs and jumps like he’s hurt himself… but he just gets back up, happy as ever, and keeps going.”

Seventeen. That’s more than “senior” in dog years. It’s what most people would politely call extra time. And yet here he is, still trotting into new rooms, charming strangers, and making other people’s days better just by being there.

Puppy Years: The Raw Energy of New Leadership

When Ted was a puppy, every day was an adventure. Every smell, sound, and shadow was worth investigating. He learned fast, made mistakes constantly, and approached life with pure curiosity. His tail seemed to wag before his brain had even decided where to go next. All instinct, no hesitation.

Early leadership is the same. You move quickly, experiment often, and sometimes get it wrong. You chew the wrong thing, metaphorically speaking. But your curiosity sparks energy in the people around you, encouraging them to explore alongside you.

The best leaders in this phase don’t try to be perfect. They stay open, adaptable, and willing to learn in public. They understand that the real value isn’t in flawless execution. It’s in showing the team that enthusiasm and action can turn uncertainty into momentum. That energy is contagious, and it can set the tone for an entire culture. And let’s not forget – strategy may be the map, but culture’s the one driving the car.

Adolescence: Testing Boundaries and Building Identity

Ted’s teenage phase was full of testing limits. He knew the rules but sometimes broke them just to see what would happen. One moment he’d follow every command perfectly; the next, he’d ignore me completely, chasing after something more interesting. It wasn’t rebellion for rebellion’s sake. It was curiosity mixed with a growing sense of independence.

In leadership, this stage is when you start to challenge the playbook. You’ve learned enough to act independently and you’re eager to put your own stamp on things. You question processes, experiment with different approaches, and occasionally overstep. Not out of malice, but from a drive to innovate.

The best leaders in this phase push boundaries with purpose. They take calculated risks, knowing that breaking from tradition can spark progress. But they also develop the judgment to recognise which rules are worth bending and which ones safeguard the greater mission. This is where style and substance start to merge into something uniquely yours.

Prime Years: Strength, Focus, and Responsibility

In his prime, Ted was… well, let’s call it selectively reliable. He could run for miles, adapt to new situations, and occasionally protect what mattered… though sometimes “what mattered” to him was an abandoned sandwich on the footpath. He was confident in his own way, capable when it suited him, and completely committed to the missions he chose.

Leaders in their prime have the stamina for big challenges, the skill to deliver results, and the clarity to focus on what matters most. This is the season when you can carry the heaviest loads, not because you have to, but because you can. Teams look to you for direction, and you have the capacity to give it with conviction.

But the trap is thinking output equals worth forever. Leaders in this phase also need to invest in succession, mentorship, and building systems that outlast them. True strength isn’t just about delivering in the moment. It’s about preparing the ground for those who will follow.

The In-Between: Where Depth Replaces Speed

Ted’s not a puppy anymore. He’s not flying up stairs three steps at a time, or racing through the park just for fun. But he’s not “done” either. These aren’t fragile, final days. They’re steady, purposeful ones. His play is slower, his naps are longer, but there’s a calm confidence in how he moves through the world. He knows where the sunny spots are and how to get to them without wasting energy.

In leadership, the in-between comes after the rush of newness and before the winding down. You’ve earned trust, built stability, and shifted from proving yourself to empowering others. The adrenaline has given way to a deeper kind of influence, one that doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

Now, in theory, this is the phase where you step back so others can step forward. In Ted’s world? Absolutely not. He’s still racing for the door first, but maybe that’s the point. Even in this steadier stage, there’s room for a little healthy competition and a reminder that enthusiasm doesn’t have to fade with time.

This stage is when you:

• Make better decisions because you’ve seen more.
• Empower others while keeping your own spark alive.
• Focus on embedding culture, not just chasing wins.

It’s not about moving the fastest anymore. Unless you’re Ted and the door just opened. Then all bets are off. For leaders, the in-between phase is about knowing when to surge forward and when to hold back. It’s the discipline to conserve your energy for the moments that truly matter, and the wisdom to recognise that your greatest contribution now is creating space for others to succeed, even if you still get to the door first sometimes.

Resilience Without Drama

Sometimes Ted misjudges a jump, lands awkwardly, and looks like he’s hurt himself. He’ll pause for a beat, as if to check whether anyone saw, then shake it off and carry on like nothing happened. If he could talk, I’m certain he’d say, ‘What? That was intentional.’

Leaders in later stages often have this same quiet recovery skill. In your early days, a setback can feel like a crisis; later, you know it’s part of the cycle. You’ve weathered enough ups and downs to trust that you’ll find your footing again.

And that’s where the credibility lies: resilient leaders don’t just bounce back. They bounce back without creating unnecessary noise or panic. They model calm, measured responses, giving their teams confidence that the work will move forward no matter the stumble.

Senior Years: Leading Through Presence, Not Pace

At seventeen, Ted’s sprinting days are behind him. He’s not chasing balls across the park or vaulting onto the couch anymore… though he’ll occasionally give it a go, usually with more enthusiasm than precision. What he has now is something rarer: an ability to command a room without rushing through it.

When the groomer’s colleague says her day is made when Ted is first in, she’s not talking about his physical ability. She’s talking about how he makes her feel – happy, connected, and reminded why she loves what she does.

In leadership’s senior years, your influence isn’t measured in speed or volume. It’s measured in the stability you provide, the perspective you’ve earned, and the trust you’ve built over time. People remember how you made them feel long after they’ve forgotten the specifics of what you delivered.

That’s the lesson: at this stage, presence becomes your greatest asset. You may no longer be leading the charge physically, but your steadiness, clarity, and loyalty carry more weight than any sprint ever could.

The Throughline: Showing Up, No Matter the Season

Ex nihilo means “from nothing”, and in leadership, each season demands creating from nothing in a different way.

• Puppies create possibility from curiosity.
• Adolescents create identity from exploration.
• Prime years create results from capacity.
• The in-between creates culture from stability.
• Senior years create legacy from presence.

Dogs don’t skip seasons; they grow through each one. And the best leaders do the same. They adapt to what each stage demands without losing their core loyalty to the people they serve. Like Ted, they may express it differently as the years pass – through enthusiasm, guidance, stability, or quiet wisdom – but the constant is that they keep showing up.

That’s the throughline: no matter the chapter, the leader’s presence is felt, their loyalty is clear, and their impact is lasting.

A Leader’s Quiet Call to Notice

If you’re leading, whether you feel like a puppy finding your feet, in your prime, or in your own in-between years, remember this: the best leaders lead like man’s best friend.

They show up consistently.
They build trust that outlasts the moment.
They adapt to change without losing their loyalty to the people they serve.

And maybe, like Ted, you’ll leave a note against your name in someone’s mind that says:

They’re legit the best.

Because leadership, like a dog’s life, isn’t just about the start or the end. It’s about showing up in every stage, loyal, present, and committed to those who’ve placed their trust in you. The door may open to new challenges, and your role within them may evolve, but the way you lead, with loyalty, steadiness, and heart, is what people will remember most.

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