Building a Place of Safety

Behind the Scenes: Preparing Our Home Base

Founder Reflections No. 002

“I believe in you. I believe in your dream. I’ll take care of it.” — Keith, my husband

As I continue sharing what inspired Artemis House, I also want to bring you a little glimpse behind the scenes into what it looks like to build it today.

Our Georgia Department of Agriculture pre-inspection is complete. We now have a clear list of the work the inspector identified as required for license approval at a final inspection. That includes drywall, painting, doors, and sealing the concrete floors and back deck.

Having that clarity is an important step forward. But the scope of the work—and its cost—were more than we had anticipated. For a while, I had to take a breath and absorb what that meant for the dream I have been working so hard to bring to life.

Every dream has to have a foundation of support that makes it possible. For Artemis House and for me, so much of that foundation belongs to my husband, Keith. His belief in me has given me the support and reassurance to bring this dream into the world.

When I shared what the pre-inspection would require, his response was simple:

“I believe in you. I believe in your dream. I’ll take care of it.”

He has chosen to personally cover these unexpected renovation costs, outside the Artemis House budget.

Making room for the work ahead: Artemis House supplies moved aside while our home base is prepared.

I am deeply grateful for that generosity. But there is something beyond the financial help that is difficult to put into words: being met with that kind of belief when you are trying to find your footing. His support has given me room to work through what comes next, and keep moving forward.

Right now, that looks like supplies temporarily moved onto the deck, a basement cleared for work, and new drywall turning an unfinished space into something closer to the home base that will welcome dogs safely and with so much love.

A heartfelt thank-you, too, to Lopez Painting & Renovations LLC for answering the call, getting started so quickly, and showing up consistently to move this work forward. Seeing this space come together has been such an encouragement.

The same space, with drywall installed—a visible step toward our first welcome.

Another view of the progress, with finishing work still ahead.

These walls are only one part of preparing Artemis House. Alongside the physical work, we are developing the care plans, procedures, veterinary and emergency arrangements, and foster TEAM support that must be ready before we welcome our first dogs. Once licensed, we will begin when we can responsibly support the dogs we take into our care.

My conversations with the GDA supervisor and inspector reinforced the weight of that responsibility. Every dog we accept will depend on us to follow through, including when needs change or something unexpected happens. I want to build a rescue that can keep that commitment over many years. That means beginning thoughtfully and carefully and making sure our capacity grows alongside our ability to provide care.

To everyone who has contributed through our Founding Wish List and Giving Pathways, or offered encouragement along the way: thank you. Your trust during this early stage means so much to me. The supplies and support you have given are part of the welcome we are preparing.

There is still work ahead before final inspection and before the first dog arrives. Today, though, I can stand in this space and see progress. I can picture a dog resting here. A little more settled. A little more able to choose, explore, and begin to feel safe. That is what we are working toward, one thoughtful step at a time.

Thank you for being here while Artemis House takes shape.

A Place to Heal. A Home to Belong.

Trauma Informed Dog Rescue

Coming Home: Searching for Safety

Founder Reflections No. 001

"The day your nervous system feels safe, is the day your personality comes back." - Linnea Passaler

For as long as I can remember, I have carried a quiet feeling that I never quite fit the world around me — as though everyone else had been handed an instruction manual for navigating life that I somehow never received.

The world seems wired for people who move quickly, think quickly, speak quickly, and are energized by constant activity, noise, and connection. I have never been that person.

I have always experienced the world deeply. I pick up on people’s energy and the emotional atmosphere in a room. I notice tension that often goes unseen. My mind and body seem to take in everything around me, whether I intend them to or not. Because of that, moving through the world has often felt like living with my nervous system turned up much louder than everyone else’s.

For much of my adult life, home became more than simply the place where I lived.

Home became the place where my nervous system could exhale. Where I could slow my pace. Go deep instead of staying on the surface. Experience peace instead of constant stimulation. It was where I could simply be.

Because that is what home does. It does not just shelter you. It allows you to become more fully yourself.

And ever since I was a little girl, there has only ever been one other place that felt exactly like that.

With dogs.

When I was with dogs, I knew myself better.

Dogs have always felt like home to me.

Not in a sentimental way, but in the deepest sense of the word.

When I was with dogs, something inside me settled. The world became quieter. Safer. More understandable.

My first day of school, with my first dog, Sammy.

They offered me something I could not always find elsewhere: presence without pressure, companionship without performance, and a kind of belonging that never required explanation or justification. I never had to earn my place with them. I never had to become someone different. I could simply exist beside them, exactly as myself.

Looking back now, I realize they were teaching me about emotional safety long before I had words for it.

After moving to the beautiful mountains of Ellijay in retirement, I decided to volunteer at our local animal shelter.

Walking into the shelter for the first time was overwhelming. The noise. The barking. The constant movement. The uncertainty. It challenged every part of a nervous system that had spent a lifetime searching for quieter, safer places. Along with that came another familiar feeling — that quiet sense of standing just outside the circle, wondering where I fit, wondering if I belonged.

But then there were the dogs.

With them, everything else faded into the background. I cannot fully explain it, but they pulled me toward them, and every fear and insecurity became secondary.

Especially the vulnerable ones.

The shy ones.

The shut-down ones.

The overwhelmed ones.

The ones who seemed to spend every moment on high alert, quietly asking:

Am I safe?

I found myself asking the one simple question that would eventually become the heart of Artemis House and its trauma informed dog rescue approach:

How do I help this dog feel safe?

Looking back now, I realize that long before I ever knew to ask that question, I was living the human version of it. I had spent a lifetime searching for the same thing myself.

I was not looking at dogs who needed to be fixed. I was looking at individual souls whose behavior made perfect sense once you understood what they were experiencing.

Without realizing it, they were quietly changing the questions I asked and leading me toward a completely different way of seeing dogs.

More importantly, they were changing the way I understood myself.

And that would change everything.