June 18th, 2025

addi0691
Jun 18
4 min read

Hello. Hi.

It’s been two months since you’ve last heard from me, and I haven’t been great about updating anyone on what’s been going on in my life.

My father was diagnosed with rapid-onset dementia in December of last year. He was admitted to a care home, where he stayed until a fall sent him to the hospital in early April 2025.

Older man with glasses and a gray fleece jacket holding a paper cup while sitting indoors at a gathering with other people in the background. — My father, Norbert Sass, in Burlington VT on August 20th, 2016 on a boat

From here in the United States, I tried to call him every day—to offer stability, comfort, and a reminder that someone was thinking of him. Most calls were just five minutes long. Sometimes shorter, sometimes longer. One of our final conversations lasted 17 minutes. He was lucid. He asked about the family, the dogs, the sheep. He told me I could stay with him if I visited. I said that sounded lovely—and that I would come as soon as I could.

Every call ended with “I love you,” and a promise to talk the next morning. Each morning, he was excited to hear my voice. I don’t know if he knew it was me. Maybe my voice was just familiar. But he passed away on May 8th, after being in a coma for nearly a month. He died on his own. And that is the most heartbreaking part.

Since then, I’ve been struggling. Taxes were due in April. Life just... fell sideways. Nothing felt important anymore.

My father used to say we are “self and standing”—his way of describing being self-employed and self-reliant, responsible for ourselves and those we love.

I feel like I’ve failed my dogs and my business these past two months. I haven’t been training. I’ve been dragging my feet. I thought if I stood still long enough, the grief might just wash over me and pass. But that’s not how it works. I didn’t make it to his funeral due to a whole other set of issues. And I’ve been floundering ever since.

My dogs have been trying so hard to be perfect, to support me. And I’ve been impatient. Making mistakes. Trying to do too much, and feeling like I’m not helping anyone.

Two Border Collies in a dry grassy pasture, one crouched low in a herding stance and the other walking forward with focused intensity during sheepdog training. — Bella and Emma on April 17th, 2025 walking up on the training flock in the mud

So here’s my honest reset—for my life, my work, my dogs:

I need to choose consistency. In training. In life. In moving forward. I c

an’t let ADHD, grief, or daydreams of a different reality derail me.

I chose this life. I chose my three girls. I chose my sheep. My work. My dream.

And I will keep choosing them—every day.

So… hello. Hi again.

My name is Addi von Eynern. I’m a dog trainer, shepherdess, and farmer. I live an incredibly active life in Vermont. And my dogs—my girls—are always right there with me. I do travel a lot, attend some trials or clinics and my girls are required to be on their best behavior at all times.

Woman smiling and lying on green grass with two happy dogs, a white mixed breed and a red Border Collie, in a sunny backyard surrounded by trees. — Rylee, Addi and Bella in the backyard on July 12, 2022

Rylee is my first dog, a Jack Russell Terrier turning 11 this August. She’s the reason I’m still here. When I was gifted her, I was struggling with severe depression and suicidal thoughts.

Rylee became my everything. My safe haven. The reason to get out of bed and keep going. She’s still the most incredible little dog. I wish she had the same bounce and energy she did at seven, but she’s enjoying the return to farm life—especially her daily rolls in the compost pile - to my dismay...

Mowgly (May 2019 – March 2020) was my second dog—a whirlwind of a Jack Russell puppy. He was bred from top agility lines, and he made life chaotic in the best and worst ways. He died unexpectedly while in care, and it crushed me. I thought I’d never get another puppy again.

But in December 2020, I brought home Bella, my first Border Collie. My agility mentors convinced me, and I’ve never looked back. Bella is the reason we have sheep now. She opened the door to an entirely new world—one I didn’t know I’d fall in love with. She’s why the next puppy was also a Border Collie, named Emma, who joined the (in)sanity last year (2024).

Border Collie herding a small flock of woolly sheep across a dry pasture on a farm, with bare trees and fencing in the background. — Bella herding her sheep on February 27th, 2024

Bella changed how I train. She brought us to teachers and mentors who welcomed us and showed us what a true working relationship with a dog can look like.

It’s simply magic: stepping into a field and having your dog turn to you—not for instruction, but to check in, to ask, “Are you with me? Are you ready? Do you trust me?”

There’s nothing quite like working a dog who wants to help you do the job—who tries and tries again. That connection is breathtaking.

It’s that connection I want to teach my clients. If we trust and respect our dogs, anything is possible. But if we miss those steps and just try to make things happen… it all falls apart.

Dogs have walked beside humans for over 40,000 years. They’ve survived, adapted, and evolved along side us, with us.

Two young dogs relaxing in a sunlit backyard, with a red and white Border Collie lying down in the background and a fluffy brown puppy sitting in the foreground. — Cutest Puppy and Bella in the backyard - Summer 2022

They sniff out cancer, find bombs, comfort children, and love us unconditionally. The least we can do is ask instead of demand. To honor the relationship.

To offer guidance, not orders.

That’s how I train. That’s how I work with my clients.

I want to help each team learn to trust themselves—and trust each other.

Because when your dog is right… it’s magic.

Happy Training,

Addi and The Girls