About Instincts and Intuition

Do you trust your instincts?

I trust my dog’s instincts more than mine. There, I said it. Romo, my first pup, had this uncanny way of knowing what was up—before I did, even. And then came Sauli, a wild rescue whose superpower was sniffing out bad vibes and hidden treats, often with equal fervor. It’s a statement that feels odd to say out loud, but after years of observing how these four-legged companions navigate life, I’m convinced that dogs have an intuitive compass that outshines human logic on most days.

Learning to Let Go of Control

Before Romo, I was pretty sure I had it all figured out. I had a solid career, structured plans, and the type of schedule that would make a time management coach proud. But dogs don’t really care if you had an efficient morning planned or that you’re on a tight deadline. If Romo didn’t want to leave the park or Sauli decided that a butterfly chase was more important than our walk back home, that was the end of that discussion.

Initially, these moments tested my patience. But somewhere between Romo’s leisurely strolls and Sauli’s full-throttle runs, I learned that my way wasn’t always the best way. My dogs taught me to pause, to reconsider that gut feeling I brushed off in favor of a well-reasoned plan. Turns out, a life led by checklists and assumptions can miss a lot of the subtleties and joys along the way. They reminded me that sometimes, trusting your instincts is about stepping out of your own way and leaning into what feels right, even if it doesn’t look perfect on paper.

The Unconventional Financial Advisors

Beyond just reminding me to chill out, Romo and Sauli served as surprisingly wise financial guides. I used to think I had the basics of budgeting down—until Romo’s unexpected vet visits made me question if my emergency fund was a joke. The experience was a financial wake-up call that taught me the importance of preparing for life’s little tornadoes (and, in Sauli’s case, literal ones). Dogs don’t plan for rainy days, but they respond to them.

I realized my “preparedness” needed a shake-up. No, Romo didn’t teach me how to manage a stock portfolio, but his need for endless walks and healthy meals pushed me to rethink my financial habits. It wasn’t about living in a scarcity mindset but shifting to a realistic one where unexpected events wouldn’t send me spiraling. Sauli, with her flair for drama and mischief, only reinforced this—because when your rescue dog makes off with your latest Amazon package, adaptability becomes less of a choice and more of a necessity.

Trusting in the Unseen

Then there were the moments that logic couldn’t touch. Romo had this way of staying close on days I didn’t know I needed company. Sauli has a knack for giving me this weird, searching look when I’m making a decision she doesn’t approve of—like buying yet another impractical kitchen gadget. At first, I laughed it off. How could a dog know more than I did? But then, I started noticing patterns. On days when Romo was unusually clingy, something always turned up: a phone call with bad news or a day that just felt off-kilter. Sauli’s “looks” saved me from a few purchases I realized I didn’t need after all (maybe she’s a minimalist at heart).

When Instincts Trump Experience

As someone who once prided myself on logical thinking, my dogs’ behavior was a masterclass in rethinking that stance. I would agonize over decisions, weighing pros and cons, seeking advice, drafting spreadsheets. And there was Romo, who only needed a split second to decide which path to take on our morning walk. Sauli, with her headstrong and wild nature, also reminded me that sometimes gut reactions come from a place of wisdom I was too distracted to hear.

This shift didn’t just apply to day-to-day life but seeped into bigger decisions too. Letting go of relationships that didn’t feel right, even when they looked right on paper, or changing career paths when my intuition nagged me about my current trajectory. I realized that Romo’s decisiveness and Sauli’s fearless curiosity weren’t just charming; they were exactly what I needed to take a leap without looking back.

The Bottom Line

These days, I lean into my gut more than I used to. Not because my brain doesn’t know how to problem-solve, but because it doesn’t know everything. The first clue? Romo taught me that. The second? Sauli confirmed it with her tornado energy and clear-eyed confidence.

If I could pass along one nugget of truth it would be this: next time you’re overthinking, watch your dog. Take the walk, pick the path that feels right, and learn to listen to the moments that logic can’t explain but your instincts can’t ignore. And if your dog gives you that weird, knowing look as you’re about to make a questionable choice? Maybe listen.