I’ve never met someone whose love of dogs is as apparent—or as earnest—as Becky Kamp of Wolf Pack Dog Training.
Before we even begin our official interview, Becky lets me know she’s fostering a six-week-old pit bull. “He’s learning from my beagles,” she says with a laugh. “So don’t be surprised if he howls.”
Sure enough, ten minutes in, there it is in the background—a puppy’s little cries. But instead of disrupting the conversation, it deepens it. Because if there’s anyone who knows how to work with the unpredictable realities of life with kids and dogs, it’s Becky. And she does it with heart.
Becky’s Wolf Pack Dog Training offers both in-home and studio-based sessions, as well as group classes, and private consults. What makes Becky’s approach so effective is her intuitive understanding of real families: busy households, overstimulated puppies, screen-distracted kids, parents stretched thin.
“If the kids are in soccer and mom’s working late, we do private sessions,” Becky says. “If they’ve got space in their schedule and want the dog to socialize too, we go for group classes—especially with puppies. I love when families come in together.”
Part of what might bring those families together may be because Becky tailors her training to kids. Every session includes a homework sheet—written clearly enough for a second grader to follow. Her goal is more than obedience—it’s empowerment.
“If the parents are busy cooking dinner and their kid says, ‘Can I train the dog?’ the answer is yes,” she says. “I want kids to feel like they’re part of it. That the dog listens to them too.”
In her studio, she keeps a kid-friendly guide to dog body language. It’s a way to help children feel not only welcome, but confident. They’re learning to read cues—their dog’s as well as their own.
“Sometimes it takes two sessions, sometimes six,” she says. “But when the child lights up and says, ‘He listened to me. That was so cool,’ that’s when I know it’s working.”
She tells me about one family whose oldest child had started pulling away from their new puppy. The dog wasn’t listening, and the boy was growing resentful. Becky suggested a one-on-one session at the studio—just the child and the dog.
“The dog started responding,” she recalls. “And you could see the shift. The boy smiled again. He was proud.”
These are more than behavior adjustments—they’re emotional repairs. And sometimes, the real work begins in the family’s home. Becky explains that many challenges—counter surfing, food stealing, jumping on furniture—need to be addressed in the context where they occur. A dog that snatches food from a child’s hand isn’t going to unlearn that at a training studio. “You can’t teach a dog to stop stealing food off the table if you’re not at the table,” she says.
But there’s another layer to her work—something harder to quantify. When she enters a home filled with tension, where the dog feels like one more problem in an already stressed household, she can sense it. And she knows what to do.
“Sometimes I walk in and the energy just says, ‘This is your last chance, Becky.’ So I make it my mission: this dog is going to stay in this family.”
She begins with connection, not correction. Sometimes “sit” isn’t the first cue. “Leave it” might be—because it builds impulse control and shifts power gently back to the family. And over time, the home changes. I ask her if she has a “Mary Poppins moment:” a moment where she knows the family can do it on their own now, without her. Becky doesn’t hesitate with her answer.
“The way the family speaks to each other,” she responds. “They start rooting for each other. That’s usually when the dog starts making better decisions—pausing, checking in, staying put when the kids run by instead of chasing.”
I share a story from my own past—a rescue dog named Moxie I adopted, who struggled with crates and separation anxiety so badly, she would bloody herself trying to escape confinement. An old-school trainer labeled her “worst case scenario” and threw keys across the room to startle her. But I share with Becky the soft, intuitive animal Moxie was underneath her trauma. Becky gets it.
“The keys thing—that’s an outdated method,” she says. “What that dog needed was trust. You build that through consistency, routine, and understanding the dog.”
She walks me through how she helps dogs like Moxie, one micro-step at a time, rebuilding not just behavior, but safety.
I tell her what happened next: I had to find Moxie a new home, and I was fortunate enough to work with a woman who lived on a farm, where Moxie could run around. A year later, the woman brought Moxie to work to visit. I didn’t even know if Moxie would remember me.
She was always a hyperactive, twitchy dog, but when Moxie saw me, she stopped moving, laid down on the car seat, and put the crown of her head toward me. I walked up, got down on my knees, and put the crown of my head against hers. This highly anxious dog and I didn’t move, for two full minutes. Just stillness. Connection.
“That,” Becky replies, “is the power of relationship. And that’s why I do what I do.”
Before we wrap, I ask what one essential piece of advice she’d give to families considering a dog.
“Do your homework on the breed,” she says. “Just because it’s cute doesn’t mean it fits your family’s lifestyle. Especially with herding breeds—people don’t realize how much structure and attention those dogs need.”
And, she adds, don’t forget to train the kids, too.
“They need to understand boundaries—especially as puppies grow. And honestly? Sometimes they listen better to me than their parents. I say the same thing—but I say it differently. And suddenly, it clicks.”
Simply put, Becky’s not just training dogs. She’s helping families learn how to become a pack—together.
To work with Becky, visit wolfpackdt.com
“Sometimes it takes two sessions, sometimes six. But when the child lights up and says, ‘He listened to me. That was so cool,’ that’s when I know it’s working.” — Becky Kamp
“I want kids to feel like they’re part of it. That the dog listens to them too.”
“They need to understand boundaries—especially as puppies grow...I say the same thing—but I say it differently. And suddenly, it clicks.”