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On Sept. 24, 2023, I met a man who, in a short amount of time, left an impression that would stay with me forever. That day, I picked up my wire-haired dachshund, Winnie, from Matthew Bisbee, a man whose kindness and quiet strength resonated deeply with me.
I had recently undergone a full spinal fusion for scoliosis, and I was searching for a companion to help me through my recovery. It wasn’t long before I found Matthew, who, along with his wife, Paige, ran Black Beaver Creek Farm & Kennel, a place known for its wire-haired dachshunds. Matthew had traveled all the way from Minnesota to New York, driving countless hours just to meet me at LaGuardia Airport, outside Terminal C, next to a Starbucks. My mom and I were there to pick up Winnie, who at the time was still called Dainty. When Matthew arrived, he was accompanied by two dogs, Winnie and a much larger, scruffier dachshund. Without hesitation, he unzipped a small bag and handed me Dainty, now soon to become Winnie Louise. He explained that it would be too difficult for him to hold onto her any longer, his eyes softening as he passed her into my arms. “She’s yours now,” he said with a warm smile.
Along with Dainty, Matthew gave us a bag filled with the essentials: bowls, vitamins and a baby blanket that smelled of her parents, Boris and Penguin. He didn’t stop there. He showed me how to care for her ears; dachshunds, with their deep ear canals, require extra attention, and he offered advice on how to keep her healthy and happy. It was a thoughtful and thorough gesture, one that showed just how deeply he cared for the animals he raised.
As my mom and I spoke to Matt, I learned that Matthew wasn’t just a dog breeder — he was a military veteran, a father of seven and a mentor to many. He had served in the 82nd Airborne Division and earned a Bronze Star for heroism in Afghanistan. But what struck me most was how, despite his quiet strength, he was deeply moved by the dogs he cared for. When we spoke about his military service, about his life raising children and animals, Matthew grew unexpectedly emotional.
“The dogs saved me,” he said softly, looking down for a moment. “Every time I re-home one, it’s always hard to look back.”
In those words, I understood the depth of his connection to the animals he cared for. Matthew didn’t just see them as pets or companions; he saw them as part of his healing process, and as a way to help others heal. He had built a life around guiding people — whether through his military service, his role as a father, or the work he did with animals. His dogs weren’t just dogs to him — they were a source of comfort, of therapy and of connection. It’s funny how brief moments like that can shape how you see the world. That meeting with Matthew wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple exchange — a dog for a new companion. But it became something deeper. In those few moments, I was reminded of the power of kindness, of giving without hesitation, and of the ways in which we can heal and help one another.
