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What advocacy really looks like

  • 2 days ago
  • 5 min read

Small acts can make a big impact for shelter dogs


A woman and her dog sit outside in nature.

Advocacy doesn’t always look like big fundraisers or viral moments. Sometimes it looks quiet, steady, and deeply personal. As My Barking Life has grown, I’ve learned that the most meaningful impact often comes from the smallest acts — the ones that help one dog, one family, one moment at a time.


I woke up on Sunday with a weird feeling in my stomach.

I know what you’re thinking: Cyclosporiasis.

And, yeah, that’s a legit place to go because I eat a ridiculous amount of salad.

But this wasn’t that.

This was something I’d never really felt before. It didn’t feel bad. It just felt … unfamiliar.

So I sat with it for a while. Did some chores. Changed the sheets. Swept the floor. Emptied the dishwasher.

And then it hit me. I knew what this feeling was.

Contentment.

I was content. For maybe the first time in my life.

How did that even happen?

Wild!



When I started My Barking Life, I had a vision. Well, sort of.

I knew I wanted to help shelter dogs through my art, but I wasn’t entirely sure what that would look like. I’d see people hosting fundraisers — the kind that brought in hundreds or even thousands of dollars and included those giant check props in photoshoots — and I’d think, Okay, that’s what real advocacy looks like. That’s what making a difference is supposed to be.

And the pressure would start: Do something big. Bigger. Biggest.

It was soul crushing.

Then I joined the board of a nonprofit, and everything shifted — not because it was a perfect experience (it wasn't), but because it taught me something important.

As I was putting together the website, writing content, and creating social posts for their efforts, I started to see advocacy from a different angle.

I realized the work didn’t have to be loud or flashy. It didn’t have to involve huge fundraisers or big numbers.

It could be simple, steady, meaningful. It could be one.

One Training Assistance Grant that keeps a dog in its home.

One shelter dog who gets a second look because their fees are sponsored.

One spay or neuter that prevents a litter from entering an already crowded shelter.

The more I worked, the clearer it became: advocacy wasn’t about scale — it was about impact.

And when I eventually stepped away, I carried that clarity with me.

I didn’t have to be sales‑driven. I didn’t have to chase big numbers. I could tell impactful stories. I could promote spaying and neutering. I could help dogs and families directly, one at a time.



So I started experimenting.

Doodles for Donations.

Daily Doodles.

Sharing shelter dog profiles.

Making videos.

All good things. But not necessarily my things.

And that pressure — the “DO SOMETHING BIG” pressure — kept simmering in the background until I finally opened the valve.

I realized I could personally put money toward my mission every month. Nothing dramatic. Nothing flashy. Just one sponsored adoption fee. Maybe two. A spay or neuter. A little help here, a little help there. If art sales or donations came in? Great. That meant I could do a little extra that month — or carry it into the next one.

I should probably explain something here. I’ve worked really hard over the past few years to pay off my debts and get my finances into a better place. I’m not wealthy, and I don’t have a pile of money sitting around waiting to be given away. But I’m fortunate enough to have a little discretionary money these days, and I decided to make giving part of my budget.

Instead of spending that money on something I don’t really need, I can put it toward a dog who needs a little help. That’s a choice I’m fortunate enough to be able to make, and I don’t take that for granted.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

Because advocacy isn’t just about money.

It’s sharing what it’s like to be a dog owner with a brain that doesn’t always behave.

It’s talking honestly about living with two high‑energy dogs.

It’s creating the Junior Dog Guardians program to help a generation of kids understand what interacting with a dog in a responsible way looks like.

It’s writing deep dives that help people understand what life with a particular dog breed actually looks like before they bring home the dog and struggle.

It’s talking about preparedness, training, behavior — all the things that help dogs have better lives.

That’s advocacy, too.

And the best part?

A lot of it is free.

I don’t need a fundraiser.

I don’t need a viral post.

I don’t need to raise thousands of dollars to prove I’m making a difference.

I just need to keep doing the small things that move me toward the bigger goal.

Because My Barking Life was never really about making money. It’s about dogs. And helping make sure they get the great lives they deserve.

And here’s the takeaway: advocacy isn’t just something I can do.

It’s something anyone can do — in small, steady ways that add up.

You don’t need a nonprofit.

You don’t need a platform.

You don’t need a big audience or a big budget.

You just need to care.

Here are a few simple ways anyone can help:

  • Share a shelter dog — one post can get a dog seen by the right person.

  • Sponsor an adoption fee — even covering part of it can make a difference.

  • Support spay/neuter efforts — prevention is powerful.

  • Help a family keep their dog — training, supplies, or even encouragement matters.

  • Share responsible dog‑ownership info — education saves lives.

  • Volunteer your skills — photography, writing, transport, fostering, anything.

And if you’re sitting there thinking, Okay, Kim, I want to help but I have no idea where to start, I’ve got you.

The Join the Mission page on my website has some ways you can help dogs through the work I’m already doing — from supporting adoption fees and spay/neuter efforts to helping fund programs and other things that make a difference.

You don’t have to do all of them. Pick one. Or pick none of them and share a shelter dog instead. The point is to find something you can do and do it.

Advocacy doesn’t have to be big.

It just has to be yours.

And when enough people do small things, big things happen for dogs.

Thanks for following along with My Barking Life. We exist to help more dogs stay with the families who love them by sharing stories, practical tips, and a little inspiration along the way. Here's to making thoughtful choices, being ready for the unexpected, and giving our dogs every chance to stay right where they belong — home.

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