About Us
Daniella Malcolm-Stewart
Hi, I’m Daniella Malcolm-Stewart — a certified holistic grooming behaviourist and Dynamic Dog practitioner.
My work really began long before any qualification, though. It started with Maximus.
Max was my first dog and he was fear-reactive from the beginning. New places, other dogs, unfamiliar people — it was a lot for him. When his first grooming appointment went badly, I couldn’t bring myself to push him through it. Instead, I decided to learn how to groom him myself. We were already working through so many challenges together, and I didn’t want grooming to become another source of stress for him.
Then Monty arrived. Completely different dog, completely different way of coping. While Max reacted outwardly, Monty simply shut down when things became too much. Supporting him meant rethinking what I thought I knew and diving even deeper into how dogs think, feel, and communicate.
Over time, something big clicked for me: so much behaviour is rooted in pain or discomfort. That realisation shaped the direction of everything I’ve done since. I became determined to bridge the gap between pain and behaviour — to stop looking for quick fixes and instead understand why a dog is struggling in the first place.
I’m not a traditional groomer, and I don’t pretend to be. I don’t follow conventional “just get it done” methods. I prefer to work with the dog in front of me, adapting to their pace, their needs, and their way of communicating. My aim is always to help them feel safe and heard while still taking care of their coat and skin in a way that doesn’t overwhelm them.
I’ve invested thousands of hours in training, including being one of the first graduates of the Holistic Grooming Academy and completing the (very challenging!) Dynamic Dog Practitioner programme. I also collaborate regularly with ethical, welfare-focused professionals — because good dog care isn’t about competition, it’s about bringing together the right knowledge for each individual dog.
These days, my focus is simple:
helping dogs feel more comfortable in their own bodies and more confident in the world around them.
And helping their guardians understand what their dogs have been trying to tell them all along.
Maximus
We adopted Maximus in May 2015 from the Dogs Trust in Evesham. He was an 18-month-old collie cross, and I arrived with all the dreams in the world of being the perfect dog owner.
We were going to train together, travel the country, and live out all the things I’d imagined. I bought every toy, every cosy bed, the best leads and harnesses, researched the perfect food — all in the name of doing everything “right.”
What I didn’t anticipate was that this beautiful boy carried big feelings. He was frightened of so many things and struggled to cope with the world around him. He’d never been taught how to relax or think independently. He relied on my cues so much that when his nervous system took over, he couldn’t focus on me at all. Fear pulled him into panic, leaving him lost and unsure of what to do next.
I kept trying to “fix” it — searching for quick solutions, desperate to turn him into the dog I had imagined when we first brought him home. It took years (more years than I like to admit) before I understood the truth: I wasn’t supporting him, I was pressuring him. And the day I drove all the way back to Evesham, ready to hand him back, was the day everything changed. Because sitting in that car park, I realised something life-altering.
It wasn’t Max who needed to change.
It was me.
Driving him back home, I made a promise — to stop forcing him into the version of dog I thought he should be, and to embrace the dog he actually was. That moment became my greatest lesson. And it’s the lesson that shaped who I am today, personally and professionally.
Max didn’t just change my path.
He gave me one.
Maximus
3 September 2013 - 4 February 2024
Monty
We adopted Monty in October 2016, just a few weeks after moving into our new home. I first met him while volunteering at a rescue and thought his calm nature would make him the perfect stooge dog to help with Max’s training. But after one weekend together, it became obvious — he wasn’t going anywhere. He was home.
His relationship with Max was quietly special. They weren’t the dogs who played together or curled up in the same bed, but their bond was unmistakable. They balanced one another, each drawing comfort from the other's strengths in a way only they understood.
Monty had a presence unlike any dog I’ve ever known. People called him a spirit guide, and it wasn’t hard to see why. There was something in the way he looked at you — as if he could see straight through to your soul. He was the calm in the chaos, the soft grounding energy in a world that often felt overwhelming. And even while carrying his own internal battles, he gave nothing but loyalty, love, and an unwavering gentleness that people fell in love with instantly.
He saved me more times than I can count.
Through some of my darkest moments, he anchored me, reminding me that I wasn’t a failure — that I hadn’t been a “bad dog owner,” just someone navigating a difficult hand. With Monty beside me, I found confidence again. Strength again. Hope again.
Monty didn’t just deepen my understanding of behaviour; he deepened my understanding of myself.
He taught me that the quietest dogs often have the loudest stories, and that the softest souls can leave the most powerful impact.
Where Max set me on this path, Monty taught me how to walk it with grace.
Together, they shaped everything I believe about dogs, healing, and connection.
Monty
4 July 2010 - 12 November 2025
woody
Woody was my childhood dog — adopted from Dogs Trust at just twelve weeks old, after what felt like a lifetime of wishing for a dog of my own. When he finally joined our family, it was as if every dream had stepped into reality. He was everything I had hoped for and so much more.
He grew up beside me, shaping my heart long before I understood how deeply a dog could leave a mark. Woody was my constant, my companion, he taught me what unconditional love from a dog truly felt like.
Losing him when he was twelve years old shattered me. He was, and always will be, the prince of my heart — the dog who first showed me what it meant to love and be loved by an animal so completely.
The day we said goodbye, I made a promise: his legacy would live on.
And so Woody’s was named in honour of him — the dog who started my lifelong devotion to dogs, and whose spirit still guides everything I do.
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