Change in the system – what my dog teaches me about team dynamics

The storm is raging, and the rain is heavier than it has been in a long time. Autumn has arrived, and we push through the darkness because turning back is not an option yet. But this time, it is different: just the two of us – Willow and me. Without Toffy. She has had two tough nights and only wants to lie down with that look: «I would like to, but I can’t right now.»

The evening trio that suddenly isn’t anymore

Systems are more fragile than we think. Systems are teams, groups, constellations - in short, units. That became clear these days, walking with only one of our dogs.

Our 13-year-old Toffy has reached the admirable age of a wise one, and her body is showing its limits. The younger one, 8-year-old Willow, is fit and in her prime. For years, we were three on nights like this – Toffy, the quiet, proud leader of the pack, and Willow, the playful, goofy one.

A well-oiled system of boss (me), proud pack leader, and goofball suddenly feels stuck. Now we are only two, and with one element missing from this trio, everything shifts on this first evening without Toffy.

So I told Toffy, «You can rest, but you have to get better. Thirteen is too soon.» 

Natural positioning

Since Willow joined, we’ve been a trio on our evening walks, and I never thought about what each of them brought to the table. It was simply how things were.

Toffy sets the tone, calm and confident, sometimes leading, sometimes following, while Willow trotted along, playful and carefree. Toffy’s leash hung loose around my neck, Willow’s was taut. Now it’s only the two of us, and suddenly something changes. If it weren’t so sad, it would be fascinating to watch: Willow’s posture and gait are different. Noticably different. She no longer walks beside me aimlessly. She leads. She looks around. She checks in with a glance to see if we’re okay. More intense. More questioning. More connected. As if she were saying: «Just you and me – is that even possible?»

And I realize: Toffy was the one radiating safety all those years. Not loudly or obviously, though she was bigger and her rare bark could make you flinch, but through her sheer presence. Willow simply followed along: relaxed, curious, sniffing, without a defined role in our constellation. She was herself, the young and playful one, anchored by Toffy’s steadiness. Willow was part of the system but not shaping it. That was Toffy’s role – or so I thought.

But suddenly, Willow grows into a space I didn’t know existed within her. Without Toffy, she walks completely differently. She’s alert, focused, sniffing with more tension, taking on the posture I used to see in Toffy. The leash pulls more, and her gaze toward me has changed. Suddenly, she orients herself toward me and shows a new side – a deeper connection. She expands into the vacuum that Toffy’s absence has left on these walks. 

The shadow of the top performer

Here lies the tragic part, the one that makes me type like crazy, because it saddens me: Willow was in Toffy’s shadow all along. Not unhappy or suppressed, but probably underestimated in our trio.

She is confident and funny, yet her full potential – this presence I now see – was never fully there. She shows it to me now. It took the space Toffy left during these last walks for Willow to truly step out. It’s hard to watch – painfully hard.

I ask myself: Could she have always been this Willow? Did I miss something? Could Toffy have stepped back at times so Willow could shine? Or should I have noticed earlier and created space instead of letting the system run as it was?

Or should Willow have positioned herself?

From dog to team – to all of us

I think of the teams I work with. The people I accompany. And I see the same pattern reflected in this story. Every member brings something to the system.

There is the top performer, the confident one everyone relies on. And then there are the others – who follow along, do their job, keep things running. How many of them are like Willow? Full of untapped potential that only becomes visible when the Toffys of this world are absent. Or when the top performer is missing.

Then the whole dynamic shifts. For better or worse, change moves the team – the system people have arranged themselves within. Tonight, after the late walk, I ask myself: Does it always take the loss, the departure, or the absence of a member for others to find their role?

I look at Willow, who looks at me attentively, and I think: No. That’s wrong. Just because someone holds the title of top performer doesn´t mean they should stay in it forever. Others can take it on, too – if you let them and give them the space. If we don’t wait for the system to force us, but instead make room consciously. 

The question that remains

What role do you play in your team? And what role could you play?

Or put differently: Are you the Toffy-type who gives everyone safety but maybe takes up too much space? Or are you the Willow-type who walks in the shadow, waiting for someone to say, «Now it’s your turn?»

Systems change, whether we want them to or not. People drop out, leave, fall ill, or change roles. The question isn’t if, but how we deal with it.

• Do we create space before the system forces us to?
• Or do we let things run until someone is missing, and only then realize what could have been possible?

I think of Toffy. Of the pressure she might have felt because Willow once again ran off and fooled around while we were searching for her. 

The wish that needs to come out

I hope Toffy will soon walk with us again. I know that’s my relentless optimism speaking – the part of me that believes she’ll recover and we’ll face the night storms together again. And when she does, I hope Willow won’t slip back into the shadow of the top performer. That I’ll see her differently, and we’ll find a way where both can be who they are. Thirteen is no age. Not for a dog. Certainly not for a team. But it’s old enough to understand: systems are fragile. And the beings within them, or in my case, the dog, deserve to be seen. Before someone is gone, leaving a space behind to grow into.