Positive Animal Caregivers: The Playbook

Recently, at the shelter where I volunteer in Toronto, a few volunteers began handling dogs outside our agreed playbook — the shelter's policies and protocols. As a result, some dogs became overly stimulated, significantly increasing the risk of bites and injuries. The management team was clearly frustrated, and given the potential consequences, I could completely understand why.

But just three weeks earlier, I had argued that I needed to keep an open mind to experimentation, to not judge ideas immediately, and to foster an environment where people feel safe to experiment. 

The irony is not lost on me. 

Why shouldn't volunteers try their own ideas while they're on shift? And if we all just follow the playbook, where would innovation come from? 

For a few days, I struggled with this tension between obedience and experimentation. It was only when I mentally walked through an ordinary shift that I saw the playbook differently. 

Before I became a volunteer at the shelter, I was taught to give a dog space, not invade his safe zone, and wait for him to calm down before putting on his harness. Every shift begins with the dog log — an up-to-date record of each dog's personality, preferences, food requirements and exercise needs. It quietly reinforces everything I'd been taught. 

So when I followed the playbook, I was acting the same as the next person would. Following the playbook wasn't an act of obedience. It was a promise. 

I was making a promise to the dogs. A promise that the care they receive would be continuous, even if the caretakers change. Through consistency, they learned their daily routine. They became settled, because things were not changing whether it’s a Monday or Thursday, whether I am on shift or Mary is on duty. 

Then I realized the promise wasn't only to the dogs. 

By following the playbook, I was allowing others to safely build on my work. My teammates knew what to expect and could pick up where I left off. The behavioural team could use my notes to see whether their approach was working. 

When I followed the playbook, I was promising to everyone: 

You can safely build on my work.

Making that promise also meant accepting something I hadn't appreciated before. While I was on shift, my role wasn't to decide what was best. It was to faithfully carry out what we'd already decided together.  

That raised another question. Where had "our judgement" come from?  

The playbook wasn't one person's opinion. It was the accumulated judgement of many people who had cared for these dogs before me.

Every line in the playbook had been earned. They began because someone noticed something.

Someone noticed that tossing a treat while walking past a kennel helped a nervous dog relax. 

Someone realized dogs with giardia needed to be separated.

Someone made a mistake nobody wanted to repeat. 

Slowly, those lessons stopped belonging to individuals.

They became part of the shelter itself.

And because it was built by people, it can also be improved by people. Every protocol began because someone questioned the one before it. 

Someone asked a question.

Together, we tried it.

We learned from it.

We wrote it down.

Until someone asks a better question, and we begin again.

So the next time I walk into the shelter, I'll probably still have ideas about things I'd do differently.

I hope I never lose that.

But until we've discussed them together, I'll quietly follow the playbook.

Not because it's perfect.

But because it represents the best understanding we've reached together — so far. Tomorrow, another volunteer will inherit the shift where mine ended, just as I'm building on theirs.

Every team has a playbook — whether it's written down or not. What's one part of your playbook that helps others safely build on your work? Hit reply and let me know.

If this newsletter has been useful to you, the best way to help it grow is to pass it to one person who'd connect with it — a colleague, a fellow volunteer, anyone doing this work who might want to feel less alone in it.

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Small acts of care often look ordinary until someone pauses long enough to notice them. This week, a few things worth noticing:

If you have a win worth sharing — your own or someone else’s — reply to this email. I’d love to hear about it.

Mark your calendars for these upcoming opportunities to connect with others:

I'd love to know what's landing for you. Hit reply and let me know.

Thanks for spending part of your day with me and the rest of the Positive Animal Caregivers Club. Take care of yourself this week.

– Philip