Animals Don’t Need Business Cards
What animals taught me about labels, expertise and simply being
The other day I caught myself doing something I have done thousands of times before.
I saw a post from another professional and within a split second I thought:
“Oh no. Maybe I’ve been telling people the wrong thing.”
Not because I had carefully considered the argument.
Not because I had reviewed the evidence.
But because my brain immediately registered: “She is the expert.”
It was fascinating to watch.
Because only a second later another thought appeared: “Wait… do I actually agree with this?”
And that is where things became interesting.
We live in a world of labels
From the moment we are born, we learn to place labels on ourselves and others.
Doctor.
Veterinarian.
Nutritionist.
Project manager.
Teacher.
Entrepreneur.
Mother.
Student.
Expert.
Beginner.
We use these labels to understand the world. There is nothing inherently wrong with that.
Labels can help us communicate. They can help us find people with experience. They can help us organize society.
But somewhere along the way, we started confusing what someone does with who someone is.
And that changes everything.
The day I became a veterinarian
When I graduated as a veterinarian, I was given a title.
A title that people respect.
A title that opens doors.
A title that tells the world: “This person knows things.”
And I am grateful for everything I learned.
The years of study.
The anatomy.
The physiology.
The pathology.
The science.
I would never want to erase that part of my journey.
But looking back, I can also see something else.
For a long time, being a veterinarian became part of my identity.
Not just something I did.
Something I was.
And when a label becomes your identity, it can quietly start building walls around your curiosity.
The prison nobody talks about
People often think expertise creates freedom.
Sometimes it does.
But sometimes expertise creates invisible boundaries.
Because once you become “the expert,” you start worrying about staying inside the box that expert belongs in.
You stop asking certain questions.
You stop exploring certain ideas.
You stop following certain intuitions.
Not because they are wrong.
But because they don’t fit the label.
I know this because I lived it.
The further I moved into holistic medicine, herbal medicine, energy work, intuition and animal communication, the more I felt the tension.
Not because these experiences felt untrue.
But because they didn’t fit neatly inside the label of veterinarian.
And that created friction.
Not outside of me.
Inside of me.
Animals don’t have this problem
One of the reasons I love animals so much is that they don’t seem interested in labels.
A horse doesn’t wake up wondering whether he’s important enough.
A dog doesn’t question whether she’s qualified enough.
A cat certainly doesn’t care what anybody thinks.
Animals simply show up as themselves.
Fully.
Without apology.
Without a résumé.
Without a business card.
Without a title.
A horse doesn’t think:
“I am a horse with 15 years of experience in grazing.”
A dog doesn’t introduce himself as:
“Senior squirrel detection specialist.”
They simply are.
And maybe that is why being around animals feels so healing.
They invite us into a world where worth is not attached to achievement.
A world where value is not determined by status.
A world where existence itself is enough.
The Chihuahua and the Great Dane
Actually, there may be one exception.
Chihuahuas. 😉
Many Chihuahuas seem convinced they are Great Danes.
But perhaps even that teaches us something.
They are not limited by the label we gave them.
They don’t spend their lives thinking: “I am only a small dog.”
They show up with the confidence of a creature ten times their size.
Sometimes completely disconnected from reality.
But still.
There is something admirable about that.
Becoming a richer human
These days I no longer see myself primarily as a veterinarian.
Not because I stopped being one.
But because that label feels too small.
Veterinarian is part of my story. It is not the whole story.
I am a veterinarian.
And a student.
And a teacher.
And a mother.
And a woman.
And a gardener.
And an animal lover.
And a curious explorer of life.
And probably many other things I haven’t discovered yet.
The goal was never to become a better veterinarian.
The goal was to become a richer human being.
Because the richer our experience of life becomes, the more deeply we can understand ourselves, each other, and the animals who walk beside us.
A question worth asking
What labels are you carrying that once empowered you but now limit you?
Which parts of yourself have been left unexplored because they don’t fit the story you tell about who you are?
And who might you become if, just for a moment, you put all your business cards on the table and walked outside without them?
The animals are already waiting there.
Not asking what you do.
Simply curious about who you are.