Before Glacier’s first TPLO surgery, enrichment wasn’t something I thought about very much.
She had plenty of toys. She had puzzle toys and brain games. But if you know Shibas, you probably know that having a puzzle and actually convincing them to do the puzzle are two very different things.
Glacier loves her squeaky toys—mostly because her prey drive tells her they need to be destroyed immediately. And while I have no doubt she’s smart enough to figure out a treat puzzle, she’s also very good at deciding something simply isn’t worth the effort. If she doesn’t feel like working for a treat, she won’t.
So the brain games existed. They just didn’t get much use.
Before surgery, that never felt like much of a problem. I had worked remotely for most of Glacier’s life, so there were always walks, playtime and other ways to keep her busy throughout the day. She also ate quickly, but even that wasn’t something I gave much thought to at the time.
I grew up with dogs long before lick mats and snuffle mats were things most dog owners had in their homes. I knew these products existed, but I think part of me was still stuck in the mindset of we never needed these before, so how important can they really be?
Then Glacier had TPLO surgery.
When physical exercise isn't an option
As I wrote about in Glacier's TPLO story, the first several weeks of recovery were incredibly restrictive. She couldn't run, play or move around the house freely. Even seemingly small movements had to be controlled while her leg healed.
At first, medication kept her pretty sleepy. But we were warned that as the weeks passed and she needed less medication, her normal energy would start coming back long before she was actually allowed to do normal dog things.
We needed to find another way to tire her out.
Her existing puzzle toys weren't a great solution. Most required her to stand, move around or reposition herself to reach different compartments. The goal wasn't simply to give her something to do—it was to give her something mentally engaging that she could do without getting up.
One of the suggestions we were given was a lick mat.
I knew what they were. I had just never thought Glacier needed one.
Suddenly, I understood exactly why she did.
Our first lick mats weren't pretty. They didn't need to be.
There was no carefully researched purchase involved. We needed something for her recovery, and we needed it quickly.
My partner found a set of rectangular lick mats with four different textures. One was bright green. One was blue. They weren't something I particularly wanted sitting around the house, but aesthetics were very low on the priority list at that point.
While looking for those, we also discovered snuffle mats and ordered one of those too—a big brown and green one with lots of places to hide treats.
Again: not exactly my style.
But they worked.
We ended up using them every single day during Glacier's recovery.
Because Glacier is so food motivated, the snuffle mat could keep her occupied for a surprisingly long time. We'd break treats into the tiniest pieces so we could hide more of them without giving her a huge amount of food.
Then we'd place the mat directly in front of her.
She wasn't allowed to crawl around after it, so as she finished one area, I'd actually rotate the mat for her so she could reach another section without moving her recovering leg.
It was a little ridiculous.
It was also incredibly effective.
Figuring out what to put on a lick mat
The lick mats presented another problem: what do you give a dog who needs something interesting to do, but is barely moving all day?
Weight gain during recovery was something we had to think about. We couldn't just cover a mat in calorie-dense food every time Glacier needed stimulation.
And, as I wrote about in her TPLO story, getting her to poop became its own recovery saga.
So pumpkin purée became an obvious choice.
Glacier wasn't particularly impressed by pumpkin on its own, though, so I started experimenting. A little dog-safe peanut butter could make it much more exciting. We tried Greek yogurt. I played around with different combinations and amounts, trying to make something interesting enough to occupy her without turning every enrichment session into an extra meal.
And somewhere along the way, I started enjoying it too.
I was already researching ingredients and experimenting with dog treats at the time. Now I was thinking about food in another way: not just what can I make for Glacier? but how can food give her something to do?
That distinction ended up sticking with me.
I finally understood enrichment
Before TPLO, I think I thought about enrichment as something optional. A nice extra for dogs who needed more entertainment.
After TPLO, I understood it completely differently.
Glacier couldn't use her body the way she normally would, but she still needed to sniff, search, lick, investigate and work things out. Giving her those opportunities genuinely changed our days during recovery.
And once she recovered, the lick mats and snuffle mat didn't disappear.
We didn't need a surgery to justify using them anymore.
There are rainy days. Busy days. Days when a walk isn't enough. There are meals that can take ten minutes instead of thirty seconds. And there are plenty of reasons to give a dog something interesting to do simply because dogs need things to do.
Enrichment became something I knew we'd always have in our house.
There was just one problem.
I didn't like looking at any of it
Once I knew these products were staying, I started noticing them differently.
The bright green and blue lick mats had served their purpose perfectly. The giant brown and green snuffle mat had gotten us through weeks when Glacier couldn't do much else.
But I didn't want any of them sitting out in my home.
Of course, prettier options existed. There were already brands designing custom enrichment products. But I kept feeling like there weren't enough options—especially for people whose style didn't lean toward bright colors, cartoon characters and smiling faces.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with that aesthetic. It just isn't mine.
And I guess being mildly annoyed by a bright green lick mat every day is enough to get my brain going.
I started thinking about what I would make.
Then I started sketching.
What if dog enrichment could feel like part of the home?
At first, they were just ideas.
I sketched enrichment pieces and treat-hiding toys that I would actually want to leave out. I thought about softer colors, simpler forms and objects that could live alongside everything else in a home rather than immediately announcing themselves as dog products.
But appearance was only part of it.
Our first enrichment products had been purchased quickly from the internet during a stressful period. They worked, but I didn't know much about who had manufactured them, what standards they were made to or how much I could actually verify about the materials.
If I was going to design my own, I wanted to be able to answer those questions.
That meant finding the right manufacturing partners, understanding the materials being used, confirming food-contact safety, thinking about durability and cleaning, and making sure something designed to look good still did its actual job well.
I didn't want to make enrichment products just because I thought I could make prettier ones.
I wanted to create products that belonged in the home and came from a brand dog parents could trust.
And selfishly, it gave me something else too: another reason to design.
From something we needed to something I wanted to create
I never expected two ugly lick mats purchased for surgery recovery to eventually influence what Glacier's Goodies would become.
But that's one of the things I've learned while building this brand. Some of the ideas that have stuck around weren't born from a business plan or a product roadmap. They came from living with Glacier, running into a problem and thinking, I wish this existed differently.
TPLO taught me why enrichment mattered.
Living with the products taught me what I wanted to change about them.
And my background as a designer gave me the opportunity to actually do something about it.
I don’t think I would have understood enrichment in quite the same way if we hadn’t gone through TPLO recovery. Now it’s something I can’t imagine not having for Glacier. And once I started thinking about what I wished these products looked and felt like in our own home, I had a hard time not designing them.