Building a company inspired by one simple belief.

I've spent the last decade in and around other people's companies — helping founders find their voice, sharpen their story and prepare their businesses for the moments that matter. Board meetings, first pitches, first hires, first big cheques. I loved it. I still do. But somewhere along the way it stopped being enough to keep helping other people build the thing.

I wanted to know what it felt like to be on the other side of the table. To carry the belief myself. To be responsible not just for the pitch, but for the whole life around it — the product, the community, the people who show up because they trust that someone is genuinely trying to build something good.

The turning point wasn't a market analysis or a spreadsheet. It was a scruffy little terrier named Sparkle, and then a second one called Stormi, and the way our home slowly reorganised itself around them.

I started noticing things I'd never paid attention to before. Which cafés let them in. Which parks felt safe at dusk. Which groomer someone in the group chat swore by, and which vet took the time to remember Sparkle's name. I noticed how much of modern pet life happens in the small, unglamorous spaces between apps — the WhatsApp voice notes, the neighbour recommendations, the "let me ask around". And I noticed how much of it was invisible to the platforms that claim to serve it.

The love people have for their pets is whole. The world around that love is fractured.

I think community is one of the most overlooked parts of modern pet ownership. We talk endlessly about products, about training, about food, about insurance. We talk far less about the fact that most owners feel quietly on their own — figuring it out one Google search at a time, hoping the advice is good, hoping the person on the other end of the review is real.

Kunari exists because I don't think it should be that way. Because the groomer down the road, the trainer two suburbs over, the café that keeps a water bowl by the door — they deserve to be found on the strength of their work, not the size of their ad budget. And the people who love those places deserve a warmer, quieter, more considered way to find them.

My hope for Kunari is simple. That it becomes the trusted home for modern pet life. That it strengthens the connection between pets, the people who love them and the communities around them. That in ten years' time someone will say I found my dog's favourite place on Kunari, or I met my closest dog park friends there, and it will be true.

That's the company I want to build. Thank you for being early to it.