"Some lessons break you.
Some wake you up.
This one changed everything"
Our Family , Our Journey to Awareness
Our family lives in a rural town, tucked deep in the mountains of Idaho, away from the noise, the toxins, the bullshit. Out here, we breathe clean air, live on open land, and cut the cord from a system designed to keep people sick. But I didn’t always know better. Like most, I trusted the process. I followed the rules. Until the day I couldn’t anymore.
Twenty-two years ago, our oldest son, Zander, was born in Washington State. C-section. Routine immunization. Standard circumcision at two days old. All "normal" procedures. But he screamed for 48 hours straight, inconsolable. The nurses and doctors had an answer for everything, my milk wasn’t enough, formula would fix it. It didn’t.
We did what we were told, showed up for every checkup, never missed a shot.
They said we were doing everything right. Until everything started going wrong.
By a year old, Zander wasn’t hitting milestones like his sister. "Boys develop slower," they said. He was crawling, walking, climbing, but he lined up his toys obsessively, rewound and played VHS tapes on repeat, could operate our TV better than most adults.
"He’s just quirky," they assured me. I wanted to believe them.
Then came his two-year checkup. Another round of shots. Another round of blind trust. After the MMR vaccine, my son stopped responding to his name. Doctors blamed it on hearing issues, off to ear tubes we went. But his nose never stopped running, his belly stayed bloated, ear infections piled up, and antibiotics became routine.
Then, at his sister’s four-year checkup, the doctor suggested the chickenpox vaccine.
Zander, sitting next to me, had puffy eyes, snot dripping from his nose. I hesitated.
I had chickenpox as a kid. No big deal. But my husband, who had it later in life,
said it was miserable. He never pushed anything before, so I agreed.
August 26, 2005. The day that changed everything.
Within three weeks, my son was gone. No eye contact. No speech. Tiptoe walking. Headbanging. Self-harm.
He was trapped inside himself, and I had no idea how to reach him.
I took him back to the doctors, desperate for answers. Eight months later, we sat in a cold, sterile room while
three specialists and a nurse faced us from the other side of a table. Zander, nearly three,
was in the corner, slamming his head against the wall.
"I’m sorry, but you’ll need to consider institutionalization by the time he’s 13.
Mr. Gardner, since you’re tall, your son will be too, and he’ll be hard to control."
Then the doctor turned to me.
"Be lucky he ever said 'Mommy', because he never will again."
That was it. No support. No direction.
Just a death sentence for my child and a "good luck" as they walked out.
I spent two days drowning in grief. Then I got up. And I fucking fought.
I ripped apart everything I had been told. I studied vaccines, gut health, toxins, food,
and the corrupt system that profits off sick children. I found alternative medicine,
holistic healing, homeopathy, the things they don’t want parents to know exist.
And now? Zander is thriving. He may still be autistic, but he’s a far cry from the child they wrote off.
Because I stopped listening to the system and started listening to my gut. I will die on this hill, standing for truth,
for health, for every parent who refuses to let their child be another statistic.
And that’s why I do what I do.
When I saw how deep the lies ran, I knew it didn’t stop with humans. The pet industry? Just as corrupt.
Kibble. Vaccines. Flea and tick chemicals. It’s all the same playbook, profit over health.
So, I took the same fight that saved my son and applied it to the dogs I love.
I don’t just breed Great Danes. I fight for them. I educate. I coach. I expose the system that’s poisoning
dogs just like it poisons humans. I show owners how to break free, how to raise a dog that doesn’t just survive but thrives.
This is my mission. This is my hill. And if you want a dog raised with integrity, with strength,
with every ounce of knowledge I’ve fought to gain, then you’ve found the right breeder.
Welcome to Little Rogue Danes, where we breed for the future, not for the system.
Little Rogue Danes Copyright © 2025. All rights reserved.