Don’t Shoot The Dog

Safety found me. 

I’ve worked in industry for a lot of years and in high school, I always had a job. I worked in a small engine repair shop when I was in grade 11 and the owner taught me how to take apart and put together Briggs and Stratton engines. I knew wanted to be in the trades when I grew up.  Those weren’t years that were kind to women in the trades so instead, I always found myself working on the fringe.  From my first job as a receptionist for a little equipment rental store in Lethbridge Alberta, safety has found me.  “Hey you, girl … do the safety things”.  Gladly.  I always found it interesting but to be honest, kind of a lot of BS.  Throughout my life, I’ve worked in grocery stores, bottle depots, hardware stores, a touring band, self employed U-Haul dealer, a Rent-A-Wreck franchise owner, and equipment rental company after equipment rental company. I landed back into industry in 1999.  At every job, I was the token safety person.  It was a job no one wanted to do.  

Nothing about safety back then made any sense to me.  But I did the work.  

Landing in a role for an international company with a robust safety program felt like fiction, but here I am.  

We have a leader in our safety department who has built a team that is reshaping our safety culture.  I remember feeling sick to my stomach back when I was in operations, whenever something went wrong and someone got hurt, or something got wrecked, or when under a different circumstance, something could have had the potential to do all of the above.  On some level, I knew that this was the wrong approach, but that was the climate… that was the season.  

Being a part of this shift in mindset isn’t just a flavour of the month, it’s a movement.  

We’re taught from the time we’re born, to learn from our mistakes.  An environment where you get fired because of an honest mistake is an antiquated approach.  Don’t get me wrong, there are reasons to go down disciplinary road, but I do believe, in my gut, that the accountability train has taken far to many liberties in the backs of workers who seriously just want to get the job done, and go home to their families.  I don’t believe the lions share of people wake up and go to work thinking, what can I wreck, or who can I hurt, today.  

Thank the powers that be for this shift.  Human and Organization performance is a life changing philosophy. This rabbit hole we’re going down doesn’t just feel good, it’s a calling.  

I’m not learning HOP, I am HOP and everything I’ve ever learned or ever done in my career, mistakes, (and there are a lot!), included, is the foundation I stand on.  

I’m fired up.  I’m inspired.  My desire to teach the world might be a little extreme, I’m just a small person who’s basically a nobody in the grand scheme of things. 

But what I am in my life is creative.  I’ve been a songwriter for a very, very long time, with five albums under my belt. Still a nobody, but a creative nobody who never gives up.  I’m not a “singer”, but I sing my songs with conviction.  I’m resilient, and even though I’ve met more than my fair share of people who don’t understand this drive to create that exists in my soul, the songs fall out of my face.  

In the last year I’ve found something in myself.  That voice that tells me I’m not good enough finally got the message.  I not only can, I do. I’ve found my voice, and with conviction I write about the things that matter to me.  

Im working on my sixth studio record, a folk roots album and it’s truly where the rubber meets the road, for me.  For the first time in my life, I’ve written a work related song and it’s from the point of view of a worker.  It’ll be on my new record.  

If there’s any indication that a part of the world agrees that I have found my voice, it was at the East Coulee Music Festival on May 3rd when I played a 45 minute set to a room of 80 souls, standing room only.  You could have heard a pin drop throughout my performance and these kind folks listened and hung on to every word I sang, and the stories that wove their way in between the music.  

This song I wrote about work resonated, and it’s called, “Don’t Shoot The Dog”. This song is about work, history, and hope.  Watch for it on my new record that I’ll proudly be releasing in the not too distant future.  

Before you listen to this song, I want to share why I wrote it.

It’s called “Don’t Shoot the Dog”, and it was born from two things:

(A) years of witnessing how working people are treated—especially when things go wrong, and

(B) a personal challenge from a speaker I met recently at an Energy Safety Canada seminar on “Building Learning Teams,” rooted in the principles of Human and Organizational Performance, or HOP.

I’ve never really thought about writing a safety song before—but hey, why the hell not?

In 2024, Alberta lost 203 workers to workplace-related incidents.

HOP offers one more layer of protection—one more barrier—to help shift that trend.

Like many of you, I’ve spent years watching blame roll downhill.

The people with the tools in their hands—the ones who show up every day and keep everything running—are too often the ones held responsible when the system is what failed.

But about three years ago, something started changing at my workplace.

We began embracing this new way of thinking: Human and Organizational Performance.

At its heart, HOP recognizes that mistakes are a part of being human—and that real safety comes from building better systems, not punishing individuals.

It’s a philosophy that restores dignity, respect, and trust to the front lines.

It doesn’t ask us to be perfect. It asks us to learn, listen, and improve.

And that’s a big deal.

This song is a reflection on that journey—from the old way to a new way of thinking.

It speaks to the grind, the sacrifice, the frustration—and the hope that comes with meaningful change.

“Don’t Shoot The Dog”

1

We Worked hard for 30 years 

It’s all our fault from what we heard 

Gitterdone you’re on the clock 

No time to stop 

It’s always been a tricky game 

When things go south, we’re to blame 

No one asks us how to fix what’s wrong 

Chorus

Patch the roof, don’t blame the rain 

Fix the tracks don’t crash the train 

Write the words just sing the song 

fix the fence, don’t shoot the dog 

2
Told to hustle, told to grind
Don’t ask questions, fall in line
The ones in charge don’t work the floor Any more
When gears get jammed and folks get hurt 

They blame the hands who done the work 

Instead of asking us how to fix what’s wrong 

Chorus

Patch the roof, don’t blame the rain 

Fix the tracks don’t crash the train 

Write the words and sing the song 

fix the fence, don’t shoot the dog 

3

They cut the crew but raised the stakes 

They can’t afford the price it takes

Do the job give what it takes

Make no mistakes

With broken wrenches, broken tools

We sign the forms, then break the rules 

Cause No one asked us how to fix what’s wrong 

Chorus

Patch the roof, don’t blame the rain 

Fix the tracks don’t crash the train 

Write the words and sing the song 

fix the fence, don’t shoot the dog 

4
Now I’m older, worn and wise

The Work Got done lord know’s we tried
We’re just a little worse for wear
If we’re still here
We showed up, built and fixed
With a little luck we still exist
why didn’t they ask us how to fix what’s wrong

Chorus

Patch the tire don’t blame the road

Fix the hole don’t sink the boat

Lighten up think it through

Before you do  

Patch the roof, don’t blame the rain 

Fix the tracks don’t crash the train 

Write the words and sing the song 

fix the fence, don’t shoot the dog 

#working-folks #original #singersongwriter #yycartists #folkmusic #workingman #workingmaam #originalartist